Morrissey Review – Classic Smiths songs meet GB News style talking points | Morrissey

IIt could almost be the ’90s: in a sold-out O2 arena, a pink-shirted Morrissey and his five-piece band packed the crowd with Suedehead, each rocking a ‘why’ and roaring collectively. It’s as if the past two decades of fiery political activity haven’t damaged his reputation. What’s more, things will get better soon, he assures us, because the morphine is just getting started. A little laughter. Maybe he’s joking?

Opiate allusions aside, the narrative between songs is a classic Moz ride. He stumbles from self-hype to criticism of “jealous bitches” and his usual, cancel culture that has completely alienated him from the platform to the point where he has no choice but to stand on a big stage and tell 20,000 fans all about it. Although his insinuations seem lost to the public eye, his alignment with far-right talking points comes to the fore on recent single “Notre Dame,” a hateful pop lament seemingly based on debunked (and widely Islamophobic) conspiracies that arsonists started the 2019 Paris cathedral fire. “We know who tried to kill you,” he sings, addressing the cathedral itself. “Before the investigations they said: There is nothing to see here.”

Smith’s songs seem lifted from another timeline entirely. The first night, “Rush and Thrust and the Land is Ours,” takes on a psychedelic bone, while the lament I Know It’s Over is accompanied by images of his late mother. But the moment is lost in the flat, direct arrangement, where his powerful riff alone drags the band to the song’s emotional peaks.

He then took to court again, sheepishly declaring that he was “concerned about the safety of all communities, but the community at risk now is my community.” Uh oh. The morphine seemed to be wearing off. Plucked guitars herald Irish blood and English heart in a blaze of red lights, presenting the song as a surprisingly hellish spectacle. Nowhere is the epistemological break with Morrissey’s old commodity more evident, its vague nationalism unmasked by his initial reformist policies.

The hard hit from such lows makes even the potential highs gigantic, so how soon is it? It leaves him collapsed next to the drum set – feeling exhausted. The feeling seems to be mutual. “You’ve been very nice, but I have to go get more morphine soon,” he says. “Otherwise I will die.” The encore is “There’s a Light That Never Goes Out”: a nostalgic wave of exquisite pains and ecstasies. Then the lights went out, and Smith’s frontman walked off the stage, returning to Morrissey.