Morrissey

“Ringleader of the Tormentors”

(Attack/Sanctuary)

3.5 Stars



According to an article in the ultra-hip mag The Believer, consummate mope-rocker Morrissey has found great success recently among a new and unexpected demographic—Latinos. How did he, over 20 years after became a superstar in his native Britain, make it across the Atlantic and attract a new group of fans?

While it would be speculation to say how he resonates with Latinos specifically, “Ringleader of the Tormentors” makes it obvious why people in general still find him so compelling; throughout the album, the subjects of loss, love, and God are addressed within a tuneful flow, oozing charisma and self-conscious meaning. The music presents his image as the savior in his own quasi-religious faith.

The album’s opener, “I Will See You in Far off Places,” starts with a banging rock opening that could be any number of bands from The Smith’s mid-80s heyday. But the lyrics immediately reveal Morrissey’s agenda to ponder the mysteries of life, not to simply entertain: “Nobody knows what human life is/why we come, why we go/so why then do I know/I will see you in far off places?”

There’s no question the existential quest shtick is a little much for moderate listeners. Even after eight or so listens, I still find myself asking, “does he mean heaven? hell? Walmart? Do I care?” Finally—and this is what makes Morrissey’s fans so rabid—I begin to realize that I do care. His tragic hero—though it’s unclear if he’s trying to escape his problems or embrace them—is intense and involving in a manner very rare for a rock song.

“Dear God Please Help Me,” follows, which is the most effective track on the whole album. It is sparely orchestrated, with a slight mischievous twinkle that distinguishes the piece from the synth-pop to which Morrissey occasionally threatens to descend and allows the listener to concentrate on the words and delivery.

The lyrics are vintage Morrissey, telling a tale of failed, confused lust; there are “explosive kegs/ between my legs” which soon leads to “I’m spreading your legs/With mine in-between.” The difference is that the confused lust succeeds this time. And then? “The heart feels free.” Occasionally, even the most tortured souls have to get laid, although not without questioning “Dear God, did this kind of thing happen to you?”

The delivery, however, is not triumphant, or mourning, or angry, though one could easily imagine the lyrics sung in any of these modes. Instead his voice includes a unique mixture of declaiming and confused, like he just strung what he was thinking into a song a second ago. The lyrics seem much more real than ones describing this kind of experience should.

Each track is uniquely Morrissey, using his charms to the fullest without coasting on his charisma. The biggest fault of these tracks is that the background has an annoying 80s-synthy sound. Although this would annoy me on most tracks, it is particularly frustrating in back of powerful, meaningful lyricism like “The Youngest Was the Most Loved,” a look at parents’ inability to hide their kids from the world’s problems. The jaunty guitars and child singers come together with the lyrics to create an unattractive, gripping schizophrenia.

The other big issue is that with so many self-consciously big issues on his mind, Morrissey occasionally lapses into meaningless pretension, like the doggerel of “In the Future When All’s Well.” Morrissey states “Armed with wealth and/The best of health/in the future when all’s well/ I will lie down and be counted.”

On the other hand, “The Father who Must Be Killed,” rotates between the perspective of an angry step-father, an omniscient narrator persuading a girl to kill her father, and a retrospective account of her actions. This time the occasional interruption by the child chorus works to heighten the very apparent tension and confusion. The clear Morrissey element is that there is no cleansing to the killing; it eliminates one problem, but he is not shy about realizing that there are no cure-alls, no really effective balms.

Upon first listen, many are annoyed by Morrissey’s self-absorption and melodrama. But if you take the time, relax, and let his unique orchestrations flow through you, you might just want to join the faith.

—Reviewer Scoop A. Wasserstein can be reached at wasserst@fas.harvard.edu