Photo Credit James Edmond
“Blah. Blah. BLAH!”
For a man who is not normally of few words, most of which tend to be controversial, Morrissey’s introduction set the tone from the get-go; he meant BUSINESS.
Cutting a flamboyant, yet non-plussed figure, he tore into “How Soon Is Now?”, arguably the biggest hit from the band that made him, richoeting fans back to a long lost (but loved) time when Morrissey and Marr ruled the world. Now with a single handed stint spanning over 3 decades, Morrissey’s extensive back catalogue got an airing, including, “We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful”, “Billy Budd”, “First Of The Gang To Die”, “Sure, The Telephone Rings”, “I Am Veronica” and “Bonfire Of Teenagers”. Morrissey sauntered, sashayed and shimmied over the set, more on top of his game than he’s ever been.
However, as with ALL frontmen going it alone, it is the hits of the band that made you that your audience have come for; “Frankly, Mr Shankly”, “Half A Person”, “Never Had No One Ever” and an emotionally charged, “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” were embraced with a fierceness which will always be reserved for The Smiths, regardless of how successful Morrissey is in his own right.
The undisputed highlight came in the form of an impromptu piano version of “Auld Lang Syne” accompanied by a mass singalong from the crowd; something Glasgow do better than any crowd in the world – you play it, we’ll sing it – before melting effortlessly into the familiar opening bars of the anthemic “Every Day Is Like Sunday”, unifying all the outcasts, lost souls, weirdos and off beats in the room, saying YOU’RE NOT ALONE, just as it has for 30 years.
Morrissey kept chat to a minimum, but did reflect on the tabloids reporting on “half the crowd leaving” his last gig in Glasgow following his comments on Scotland’s First Minister, “Glasgow, you don’t know what I go through for you …” he quipped in his trademark melancholy manner. A rousing version of “Irish Blood, English Heart” closed the evening with Morrissey shedding both his shirt and suit jacket before bowing out, leaving his crowd baying for a second encore, which sadly didn’t come.
Morrissey is the unequivocal M in Manchester, but the adoration of him stretches way beyond Salford Lads Club.
Review by Siobhanne Beattie Photographs by James Edmond
