This album is such a drag, lifeless and withered on songs as limp as a soufflé that's been overbaked. The music is absolutely anonymous and repetitive, serving only as a palliative to Morrissey's voice, the only star shining amidst so much junk disguised as songs. And the old trick of provocations, which once made the greatness and the very limit of the character, is of little use.
Songs like "American Is Not The World" or "I Have Forgiven Jesus", where they don't succeed with the music, they attempt with provocation and the fake irreverence sparked by our modern-day Presley in a downward spiral. Let's talk about the lyrics... abandoning the old decadent/desperate/depressive themes of the Smiths-era Morrissey, what does our hero do? A barrage against everyone and everything, riding on the half-fascist, half-queer persona he has tailored for himself over so many years of militancy.
What can I say: did the critics love it? Well, for what it's worth, they also loved Neil Young's "Greendale" or Nick Cave's "Abattoir Blues" which were two genuine duds, and yet... and yet I have a hunch that hyping up one album or another is just part of the game, right? Or hadn't you realized that yet?!
It’s an album... where the unforgettable English bard speaks directly to his devoted or newfound fans.
Stand up, please.