Alternative Press - review of New York City (Central Park)

Showstoppers Of The World Give Up And Roll Over

Alternative Press (Dec. 1997)
review by David Daley, picture by Tim Owen

It's been half a decade since British pop idol MORRISSEY set foot on an American stage. David Daley and the city of New York are still waiting to be conquered.

It still seems strange to consider Morrissey a solo artist, considering the breadth of influence his first group, the Smiths, had over confused teens in the 1980's. The singer has now been without Smiths guitarist and songwriting foil Johnny Marr for twice as long as the band stayed together (this autumn marks the 10th anniversary of the Smiths' break-up). Despite not having played in America for almost five years, the patron saint of teenage angst has now done more tours as a solo artist than the Smiths did in their heyday.

Yet while new records by the Cure, Depeche Mode, and even a reunited Echo And The Bunnymen have been hits on modern-rock radio, Morrissey's own recorded output remains oddly ignored; even the Smiths don't receive the on-air reverence they once did.

While only film director John Hughes did a better job chronicling awkward adolescence in the 80's, Morrissey — like Hughes' favorite star, Molly Ringwald — hangs in a nostalgic netherworld that is frozen so indelibly in alternative culture's consciousness that his new work could never touch people the same way it once did. Of course, it hasn't helped that his solo albums have been a decidedly mixed bag — eight releases that probably amount to little more than one truly stellar album among them.

Sadly, Morrissey's Sept. 17 Central Park show was largely a lackluster and oddly lifeless affair — shocking since his other Stateside tours have been frenzied, chaotic and electrifying, especially with fans rushing the stage for hugs and Morrissey basking in the adulation. Threatening signs posted near the Central Park stage warned against would-be interlopers. If the message — "Any attempt to get up on stage will result in ejection" — wasn't clear, the boot underneath it drove the point home. No one even tried.

More than the controlled crowd, however, Morrissey's set list left much to be desired. He touched 1992's Your Arsenal only briefly [he did?] and went no earlier into his solo career. While the selections from 1995's Southpaw Grammar had a fiery fervor, especially "The Teachers Are Afraid Of The Pupils" [is he reviewing the right show?] and the breathless "Boyracer," most of the material from this year's Maladjusted seemed stultifyingly slow. The pacing seemed all off: The middle of the set creeped along, and the crowd, looking for a reason to rejoice, received few familiar songs. After little more than an hour, with a farewell statement of "Goodnight. I love you," he was gone.

Does Morrissey still have a devoted audience? Absolutely. But it seems a very different one from the Smiths crowd, who, perhaps thanks to the Smiths, have grown from confused teens into well-adjusted adults. Fans had lined up outside the gates starting at 7 a.m. the day of the concert. Many sported different varieties of Morrissey t-shirts, carried gladioli and daisies and talked about how their fandom bonded strangers as friends during the long wait to get into the concert venue. So perhaps it's not too surprising that barely a ripple passed through the crowd when Morrissey dug back to the Smiths' Strangeways, Here We Come for a sparkling rendition of "Paint A Vulgar Picture."

His one-song encore, the Smiths nugget "Shoplifters Of The World Unite," however, did set off a frenzy. Momentarily, it was a reminder of Morrissey's glory — that now, today, tomorrow and always, those Smiths albums remain available to guide countless confused kids through troubled years.