Morrissey confounds all but the most hard-core fans

By Mike Weatherford
Review-Journal

There's something about the man ...

Maybe it's the black leather suit. Or the pompadour. Or the way he swivels his hips.

OK. You probably know from the headline that we're not talking about Elvis, but Morrissey. Not the king of rock 'n' roll, but a rather fey British rocker with some tuneful pop and an apparent Elvis complex.

Of course, Elvis would never have shed his leather suit, no matter how hot it got underneath. But not too far into Sunday's concert -- the first of two at the House of Blues at Mandalay Bay -- Morrissey drifted off-stage in the middle of "Hairdresser on Fire" to lighten his black leather load ("The only throbbing beast to come near this suit so far is me," he told the crowd.)

And no pork chops for Morrissey, who still gets a rise from the crowd by removing his shirt, and still gets your attention with the blunt "Meat Is Murder" from his days with the Smiths. (Now, a peanut butter and banana sandwich? Maybe.)

And anyone who crashed E's stage at the Las Vegas Hilton could have expected a swift karate kick in the pants. No such threat Sunday, when fans repeatedly rushed the stage until the encore, when Morrissey apparently had enough togetherness and put a sudden end to the 75-minute show after a close encounter with an admirer sent his microphone crashing to the stage.

Superficial tributes aside, Morrissey's does have an actual similarity to Elvis, and it isn't the least bit musical. It's the way his fans act around him; the fascination his followers hold for him even after years of little-to-no productivity, and the silly extremes they carry it to.

The tuneful but downbeat pop of the Smiths -- and Morrissey as a solo act -- made a brief but lasting impact on the beginnings of modern rock. On a Sunday night before Christmas the club was packed, and with an all-ages audience, though any fans who were current with the '80s heyday of the Smiths would be at least pushing 30 now.

Unlike his last visit to town in 1991, the four-piece band resisted the urge to rework the songs as rockabilly, and instead stuck to fairly faithful arrangements while the crowd sang along to favorites such as "Tomorrow."

Like the last time, however, just about any time a tune got interesting, either the crowd or the singer's glibness would derail it. Morrissey has written some compelling, offbeat songs, but it's as if he doesn't think he can get away with a serious performance. And his attitude, along with the chaotic conditions, makes it a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Perhaps there's nothing wrong with a love-in if it satisfies the private club of the singer and his cult followers. For more casual fans, Morrissey's abrupt exit from the building prompted a shrug of the shoulders: "See you in eight years, maybe, if you're ready for the rest of us to take you seriously."

REVIEW
What: Morrissey
When: Sunday
Where: House of Blues
Rating: C+
Attendance: not available