Morrissey
Years of Refusal

Morrissey says he doesn't love institutions, and we believe him. Curiously, though, he himself has become an institution. And this is both good and bad. Good because he has now become a classic, a source of inspiration and constant comparison for anyone who wants to offer good music of a certain kind. Bad because, despite shamelessly loving fame like a good narcissist, he has become excessively indulgent toward his own musical mannerisms, losing the subversive charge he had with the Smiths. And so his inspiration dilutes album after album, from the charming "You Are The Quarry" until today.

Yes, the Smiths. Yet another demonstration that the unity of the two parts is greater than their algebraic sum. The dreadful Boorer may well be a good man, a great worker, but his writing with Moz practically never goes beyond good quality classic pop, with hints more than deep of AOR, which has nothing to do with Marr's exciting riffs. In fact, it represents practically the philosophical opposite. The rest of the band doesn't help: a bunch of youngsters who like to blast hard & heavy riffs on super Marshall using ungainly guitars. The production fully embraces this tendency towards a heavy sound already present on "Ringleader," and it accentuates it even more. A personal choice, but as far as I'm concerned, questionable. It's still a bit embarrassing to hear Moz sing certainly nice and graceful melodies over these big riffs.

Now, these flaws would have seemed more than enough for me to slam yet another Next Big Thing with Telecasters and horizontally striped shirts, but in the case of dear old Steven Patrick, my considerations must be read under a different light. That is: I believe Moz no longer needs to invent anything new, having already made a huge contribution, and personally I consider myself satisfied when in each of his new records I manage to find at least 3-4 beautiful songs and a substantially pleasant average level. And that's the case with "Refusal". "That's How People Grow Up", "I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris" and "All You Need Is Me" are excellent pills of cynical romanticism (or romantic cynicism), always balancing between superficiality and crushing truth, garnished with the right elegance and style, and I find myself agreeing that songs like these disintegrate any track by those Coldplay fluff or various dreadful emo-pop bands circulating. And then a consideration about the endings of the songs? It seems Moz has a talent for finding codas to the vocal melodies that re-evaluate the whole piece, making you reconsider it completely.

In short, I invite anyone who succumbs to the charm of the Horrid Vegetarian to prepare to approach "Years of Refusal" (a trivially brilliant title) with every spring expectation, but please make sure you get at least a copy of Wilde's De Profundis.