Neil Young once declared it was “better to burn out than fade away.” At 80, it was advice he should have heeded, as it’s been 30 years since he released a decent album that wasn’t sandbagged material from the seventies left in the vault. What makes a great artist like your Iron Maidens and David Bowies is consistency. How are you holding up 14 albums into your solo career? This is the question we ask going into the newest Morrissey release, Make Up is a Lie (Sire Records). 

 

Moz has become an anti-hero of sorts. His cult-like following continues to pay for tickets to concerts, most likely facing cancellation. I myself am numbered among these, as he has cancelled on me the same number of times as I have seen him…ten. Granted, this includes three cancellations for the same ticket in one case. It is not unlike being in an abusive relationship, when my friends question why I am spending another 200 dollars on him, I tell them…

 

“It’s going to be different this time, he’s changed, you’ll see, heaven knows we are going to be miserable together, and hopefully a ten-ton truck kills both of us, because to die by his side would be a wonderful way to go” 

 

But when it comes to Moz, that is the low-hanging fruit; the concerts I’ve gotten to witness are some of the best I’ve ever seen, though two years ago, when I caught him in Tampa, it was clear age was ticking away at his vocal cords, making me leery going into this album. Leaving the concert tonight, I said he was great, but I think I wanted that preserved in my mind rather than see him descend further into his senior years onstage. 

 

There are other artists we made excuses for in this regard, Rob Halford and Geddy Lee come to mind, piercing tenors whose songs can only be done justice after dropping into lower keys once or twice. It was even hard to watch Ozzy on his throne for his pre-death concert. Morrissey is an odd juggling act of class and ego that you expect to bow out promptly, as he has shown similar restraint in not reuniting with The Smiths. But perhaps, his reasons for returning to the studio are driven by a different motivation.

 

His ticket sales have proven he is beyond cancellation. People don’t like his opinions; he extends a courteous British middle finger in their direction. He was once the Elvis of hipsters, and the Smiths were thought of as the Led Zeppelin of coffee co-ops and craft breweries. Granted, it was well-deserved idolization considering the Smiths saved music in the eighties from just being drawn to the frat boy Van Halen side of the spectrum, making it ok to have emotional depth.

 

Then, maybe 10 years ago, those fairweather fans began to backpedal with claims they only listened to the Smith because of Johnny Marr and could not stand Morrissey. Some are even idiotic enough to say the Smiths would have been better without Morrissey. Bitch please, there is no Smiths without Morrissey. Johnny Marr is without a doubt one of the most groundbreaking guitarists of his time, but if his songwriting was so great without Moz, then why does his work with The The, Electronic, or Modest Mouse not even come close to the ball sweat of “Viva Hate” or “Your Arsenal?” 

 

 

These sentiments are given further exploration in Moz’s new album. The Smiths do not define him, nor are there many hints of eighties nostalgia, maybe a guitar tone on “Notre Dame.”  But there is none of the jangle and a more deliberate sense of melody, not unlike Stevie Ray Vaughn’s playing on Bowie’s “Let’s Dance” album. Instead, Moz shows a fondness for the music he grew up with from the sixties and seventies. So much so that he reflects upon Lester Bangs, the writer for Creem and the Village Voice, who reviewed some of Moz’s favorite bands, the New York Dolls and Roxy Music. Speaking of Bryan Ferry and friends, Moz covers the 1973 Roxy Music song. “Amazona” – staying both true to who he is while honoring the original.

 

As far as the songwriting credits go, longtime collaborators Alain Whyte and Jesse Tobias returned for the sessions. This brings a sense of familiarity, while multi-instrumentalist Gustavo Manzur and Juan Galeano round out the line-up. This might puzzle Moz’s detractors, who have accused him of being racist, to learn that half of his band is of Latin descent, but things like these are a mere inconvenience to illogical axes to grind. These axes to grind are sharpened by Moz’s refusal to play nice within the industry and to be anyone other than who he is. 

 

This leads to early reviews of the album trying to downplay the fact that this is an album of what Moz does best. Some complained of his morose moaning and whining or generally bleak and depressing lyrical outlook, but is that not what a Morrissey album is supposed to be? I find it unlikely this one is going to win over any new fans, none of the songs really lend themselves to TikTok, leaving younger audiences to discover him from the praises Deftones’ Chino Moreno or Converge’s Jacob Bannon might sing for him, as both vocalists have claimed Morrissey’s work was a crucial influence in their creative development. 

 

This might not be Morrissey’s best work, but it does not need to be, as it’s at least on the same level as “Maladjusted” and “Ringleader of the Tormentors.” In other words, short of “You are the Quarry” or “Vauxhall and I,” which is still better than 90% of all the other music coming out these days. Morrissey fans rejoice and unite with the shoplifters of the world, as the Pope of Mope is back with what you want from him. Perhaps one more album, and he will be ready to bow out with grace and dignity, rather than wrestle for relevance with Post Malone duets. There is a light that never goes out, and that is his legacy, which this album upholds.

 

Buy the album here:
https://amzn.to/3N1bvsJ

 

9 / 10
WIL CIFER
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