Words Are Enough: Morrissey

What kind of lyricist gets labeled a depressive, vegetarian, celibate, homosexual terrorist who defends child murder, gang violence, domestic violence, prostitution, drug use and racism? Perhaps the kind of lyricist who pens a series of lyrics advocating shoplifting ("Shoplifters of the World Unite"):

Oh, shoplifters of the world/ Unite and take over/ Shoplifters of the world/ Hand it over/ Hand it over/ Hand it over

defending hooliganism ("Sweet and Tender Hooligan"):

Poor woman strangled in her very own bed as she read/ But that's OK/ Because she was old and she would have died anyway/ Don't blame the sweet and tender hooligan

and mocking the obese ("William, It Was Really Nothing"):

How can you stay with a fat girl who'll say:/ "Oh, would you like to marry me?/ And if you like you can buy the ring."/ She doesn't care about anything

all while insisting on the power of love ("Shakespeare's Sister"):

But I'm going to meet the one I love/ So please don't stand in my way/ Because I'm going to meet the one I love

the need for optimism ("Asleep"):

There is another world/ There is a better world/ Well, there must be

and the healing power of song ("Rubber Ring"):

The passing of time/ And all of its crimes/ Is making me sad again/ The passing of time/ And all of its sickening crimes/ Is making me sad again/ But don't forget the songs/ That made you cry/ And the songs that saved your life

Morrissey, vocalist and co-songwriter for the Smiths and his eponymous (and prolific) solo vehicle, is such a lyricist. He has created one of the most controversial, misunderstood and moving musical personalities of his generation. And all because he sings from outside his own personality.

His genius is not in penning flowery confections or introspective catharses. Rather, it is — by invoking vivid and complex characters with each verse he sings — in overturning the confessional impulse so ubiquitous in contemporary popular music.

Morrissey is labeled a depressive because he sings from the perspective of a depressed person ("Half a Person"):

And if you have five seconds to spare/ Then I'll tell you the story of my life:/ Sixteen, clumsy and shy

He is called a defender of gang violence because he sings sympathetically about hispanic gangs in Los Angeles ("The First of the Gang to Die"):

We are the pretty petty thieves/ And your standing on our streets/ Where Hector was the first of the gang/ With a gun in his hand/ And the first to do time/ The first of the gang to die.

But Morrissey the Man's feelings on violence or proclivity toward depression are not the point. In the lyrics he pens, he conveys the experiences — be they contradictory, immoral and/or cruel — of a large and varied palette of contemporary figures. And he does so with an efficacy and power rarely achieved in conventional pop music.

His most memorable characters struggle to overcome deep feelings of alienation and often long passionately for love. With his lyrical ventriloquism, he articulates these longings with a poetry that is true to the individual experiences of each character he creates, but also acknowledges the universality of their feelings ("How Soon Is Now"):

I am the son/ And the heir/ Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar/ I am the son and heir/ Of nothing in particular/ You shut your mouth/ How can you say/ I go about things the wrong way?/ I am human and I need to be loved/ Just like everybody else does

And while it may be for his ability to express beauty in this pain that he has become the poster boy of the adolescent and disenfranchised, it is for his ability to voice intricate variations on such omnipresent experiences that he is truly unique.

Anyone can sing about sadness; only Morrissey has the chutzpah, the originality and the skill to sing about sadness as experienced by anyone — from an orphan to a racist.

— Joey Rubin (joey at flakmag dot com)