Category Archives: Morrissey



I believe Morrissey once remarked that WORLD PEACE IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS was his sequel to Viva Hate. His latest, I AM NOT A DOG ON A CHAIN, feels to me a sort of 3rd installment in the Trilogy begun with WORLD PEACE.

I was never one of those who so swiftly switched from alienated adulant to virtue signaling denouncer at the whistle of outlets such as the Guardian. I read the opinion pieces which were all self-serving jerk-offs. And yet, there was the phenomena…droves decrying the “Alt-Right Racist Morrissey.” Which was about as unbelievable a load of shite as there could be. But it happened. And I watched zero research or critical thinking accompany it. I bear that in mind as I watch the same schmucks chucking about opinions on ANYTHING based on mass media headlines and the manipulative meme-ology of so-called social media.

Of course, Morrissey remained as petulant as ever with regards to defying the defining demarcations of a sonambulistic society on Low In High School which opened with the lines:

“Teach your kids to recognize and despise all the propaganda, filtered down by the dead echelons mainstream media”

The message continues on DOG with the title song, as brilliant a tune as ever crafted by MOZ:

“I am not a dog on a chain, I use my own brain

I do not read newspapers, they are troublemakers

Listen out for what’s not shown to you and there you find the truth

For in a civilized and careful way they’ll sculpture all your views”

They will even round you up to believe that Morrissey is a racist.

NPR reviewed WORLD PEACE and found Morrissey to be, perhaps, the only true “Punk Rocker” around. The grit, danger and exposure of fraud which was once Punk is now an appropriated genre utilized to entertain the brain-dead and sell fashion accessories.

Let me share a viewpoint: a friend suggested that Green Day “compromising their politics” was a way to “reach more people. “ Sounds a bit like championing “incremental change” vs. “Revolution” in politics today. A former CEO of Goldman-Sachs was a big supporter of Hillary Clinton. But when it came to Bernie Sanders, he said he might need to support Trump. He clearly could “feel the Bern.” And there you have it. Bernie Sanders is Punk Rock. What was that leak about Obama having a plan to stop him if he got too big?

Green Day is Top 40 Radio. The Sex Pistols became an issue with British Royalty.

How much does an artist endanger themselves to deliver a genuine art?

And how much do artists compromise to ilk out a living?

One may ask: can you blame them? Every needs to live.

Some would say that “Everyone has a price.”

In the strange case of Morrissey, we find someone “worth it in this murkiness.” His genius was spreading out to speak to the emotive being of so many who were estranged by the sexual top dog politics of Pop. This earned him a deep place in the hearts of many for saying what would not be said in the glamour world.

Morrissey’s popularity in Latino culture is a testimony to this. A member of the band Mexrissey remarked that Mexico was never Number One-and Morrissey was a voice for Number Two.

And there you have it. Morrissey has always been with Number Two. And Number Three and Four. “The most inept that ever stepped.”

“But-he called the Chinese sub-human!!!!”

No, twit. He referred to people who eat dogs as sub-human. How many other artists on your playlist could write “Asian Rut?”

That’s what I thought. Now bugger off.

Morrissey just released CALIFORNIA SON which is as conceptual a work as Bob Dylan’s Trilogy. This is something of an “interlude” in his own Trilogy from WORLD PEACE to DOG. I think I waited 30 years, imaging Moz covering Dylan. It happened.

Please listen to this. And then revisit the masturbatory prose of every single asshat who used their “15 minutes of fame” to suggest that Morrissey is “racist.”

Remember Oscar Wilde? Hard Labor. The breaking of the human body. Slow killing. For what?

Being Gay.

I think Ireland officially apologized for imprisoning Wilde.

That’s nice. But I don’t think he can hear the politically expedient sentiment from that place where he “won’t be charged twice,” the space where “nature makes his bed.”

Through all the expression of emotional agony, sexual frustration and confusion, love and depression, Morrissey’s work conveys a tremendously powerful and positive spirit. You’ll find this in “Do Your Best and Don’t Worry.” Morrissey’s work has always expressed the despair of Vantitas (“Young Girl…one day you will be OLD”). Longing, loss and self-reprehension are perpetual themes.

And through them all….

Humor and an unrelenting drive into Ecstatic Joy.

Think of this as you enter the new album’s opening “Jim-Jim Falls.”

Think of this as we end our auditory voyage with “My Hurling Days Are Done:”

“Oh mama, mama and teddy bear
Were the first full firm spectrum of time
But now my hurling days are done
And there’s no one to tell and there’s nowhere to run…”

There is Death and there is Love.

In Between, there is Life.

Morrissey is a Cartographer of this Space. I tend to think he does this for his own Soul-and then offers his experience to us all.

DOG takes us into a world of cruelty which we cannot deny. The rich kill for fun. Children are gassed. “Bobby, do you think they know?” Bobby hopes not-especially if he lives in Saudi Arabia. We can chat identity politics in convenient cafes a million miles from genital mutilation. Pink hat protests with a pontificating Madonna might be measured against actual women buried in soil and stoned to death for choosing what to do with their bodies.

But if Morrissey said these people were “sub-human,” you’d call him a racist, yes?

There is a wonderful jangle in “What Kind of People Live in These Houses?” From poor to prosperous, we find the predictable psychology of the automaton:

“They vote the way they vote, They don’t know how to change, Because their parents did the same!”

There are far too many one liners on this album to cite. And you should experience them for yourself while listening.

Morrissey remains “Punk Rock.” In fact, he’s Punker than Punk.

It is my hope that some who have succumbed to brain-drain might stop and look back with anger at the opportunistic assholes who have impacted perspective as servile servants of Era Vulgaris, Inc. Look at their names. Find their faces. And fuck THEM. They are the drones in our Brave New World. They will usher in your New Masters with obsequious bows.

Didn’t Morrissey sing: “The Future is passing you by?”

It’s not just a line in a song. We are on the fast-track to the grave. “Everyone has a date with an undertaker…it’s a date you cannot BREAK.”

Thanks to Morrissey for singing and “not talking about it.”

DOG is fantastic. And for those who got sucked into the Guardian toilet-spin, you may have some catching up to do.

Join Roy from Beyond in applauding the Tribute.

May all tyrants fall. Let love reign.

Watch TV


“The critics who can’t break you…
They somehow help to make you”


Of course, Morrissey was referring to those music critics gleefully churning out haughty disdain for lack of any originality or talent of their own. We might stretch the idea of the “critic” to encompass any and all factors in our life which act to threaten, crush and hold us down.

But if they can’t break us…they “unwittingly make us.”

Blake put it perfectly when he penned his classic line: “Opposition is True Friendship.”

I don’t think we inclined-or designed-to shake such a hand with a nonchalant smile. The Opposition hurts and can induce depression (in which activity slows and withers). However, this insight is given to us from an “Author in Eternity,” as Blake stated in his epic, Jerusalem. It’s the aerial view. The view of the Gamer who plays within and without the fray at the same time. I alluded to this approach in my book ORBIT where I spoke of utilizing first person shooter gamespace to practice killing without aggression. One no longer fires a weapon with reactive anger but touches frenetic foes as the Zen Master touches the appearance of thought in meditation…and sends it off like a blown dandelion.

Of course, the Critic may, indeed, appear as some snot writing for a music rag. Such hacks were quick to direct their daggers toward a British punk band called The Adverts. It could have been a devastating blow for frontman TV Smith were he not made of sterner stuff than any of these fools could have guessed.

Some readers here may be familiar with The Adverts and fondly recall when they crossed the Red Sea. For those who aren’t, an hour of your human life will be well spent watching the BBC documentary WE WHO WAIT.

TV Smith saw his Path and no Maker-Breaker armed with a typewriter and limp-wristed arrogance was going to say Nay. On one hand, he proved his Vision true when he rose to recognition and power with The Explorers. On the other, the fickle finger of the Industry decided, in a drunken mood, to flick him from the spotlight and into unemployment.

The real fire rises when TV picks up his guitar and goes it on his own. Don’t need the labels and don’t need anyone’s benediction. What he does afterwards is a soaring upward climb. Poetry and passion knocks back a Stim-Pack and showers down brilliance. More guts and glory than anything offered by the Machine for our increasingly numbed and dumbed-down world to consume.

This isn’t a story about the music world. It’s YOUR story. Vision can ALWAYS override the Critic. The World can’t kill it. Age can’t weaken its power.

It is “In the World but not of It.”

Watch TV. He’ll show you how it’s done.


For Ed, The Appliance SFB

Stars For Brains