Morrissey

Morrissey

I think it’s quite safe to say you have to be a special sort of person to embrace Morrissey and, dare I say it, become a disciple. Sure, anyone can call themselves a fan of The Smiths, but Morrissey’s solo material has always been – in my opinion at least – that little bit less accessible and mainstream, and despite spanning two decades, even experienced temporary rejection when the Lancashire-born cynic found himself without a record deal for seven years.

In my personal estimation, Morrissey’s initial solo outing, Viva Hate, is as good as it gets – and even surpasses the joint efforts of Morrissey and Johnny Marr on The Queen Is Dead, now a firm favourite of those hastily compiled best-of-all-time lists and indie kids everywhere. But try as I might, You And The Quarry and everything beyond has remained a blur of dreary throwaway tracks, with very few exceptions.

Sadly, ‘I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris’ does little to alter my current perception of Morrissey, who, if nothing else, seems to have taken to parodying himself on a regular basis. This is the song the man himself often joked would be his entry to the Eurovision Song Contest, so I suppose this much is true; listen hard enough and you might just detect some jangly guitar work which wouldn’t be completely out of place on a Smiths record. But speaking very generally, the first single to be lifted from Morrissey’s ninth and yet to be released solo record is repetitive, monotonous and absolutely disposable. The best thing about it? It’s only two and a half minutes long.

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The Badger

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