Only the indefatigable Morrissey can deliver the line, “You open your eyes/And you see someone you physically despise”, from Let Me Kiss You, rip his shirt off, and nearly cause a riot when he hurls it into the audience. The man, it must be said, looked fit and amazing.
‘Holy crap, I’m watching Morrissey!’ This thought coursed through the mind of this scribe and, I’m sure, everyone else’s to boot in the sold-out Festival Hall as the last of the famous international playboys himself – armed with a stellar band – performed his first show on these antipodean shores in over a decade. And, my gosh, he brought the goods.
The show was kicked off in style with a slam-bang rendition of Shoplifters Of The World Unite, one of many Smiths tunes that peppered the 90-minute celebration of everything Mozz. The setlist was a healthy what’s-what of some of Morrissey’s greatest musical moments, both solo and with The Smiths.
Everyday Is Like Sunday shone like the pretty and darkly humorous gem it is, whilst How Soon Is Now? was transformed into a pugnacious and hypnotising corker, armed with angular guitars, bursting percussion and an almost fevered audience sing-a-long. “You say it’s gonna happen now,” he called, “but when exactly do you mean?” The crowd went batshit.
The cheekily fabulous Ouija Board, Ouija Board followed on the heels of one of The Smiths’ most morose songs, I Know It’s Over – and it was moments like this that reminded one of Morrissey’s effortless diversity. Quite simply, his voice was a powerful force that, backed up by his talented band, filled the Hall effortlessly.
Ever the militant vegetarian, Morrissey was bound to graphically tell us his opinion about eating meat at some point. Following a strange diatribe about the Royal Family (comparing them to, oddly enough, deposed Egyptian president Mubarak and the Al-Assad regime in Syria), the lights went deep red and the familiar abattoir sound effects of Meat Is Murder filled the room.
Nightmarish scenes from factory farms – ghastly footage of chickens, turkeys, pigs and cows being tortured and brutally slaughtered in abattoirs and egg factories – were projected on a giant screen. The music was deep and throbbing, and when Morrissey bellowed, “IT’S THE UNHOLY STENCH OF MURDER,” it was an intense, visceral moment – and one that won’t be forgotten soon.
But the highlight of the show was probably the interaction between performer and audience when we were treated to a low-key and gentle offering of Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want. A thrilling hush took hold as everybody’s voice rose pleadingly as one: “Lord knows, it would be the first time.” It was a magical moment, and Morrissey himself seemed to have been caught up in it.
As the show was closed down with a raucous rendition of First Of The Gang To Die, the assembled masses made their way to the exits with pleased and faintly dazed faces. A living legend had just made a lot of people’s dreams come true, and the post-show chatter was filled with amazed comments about history having been made. I’d say they’d certainly gotten what they wanted, this time. And then some.
BY THOMAS BAILEY
LOVED: Seeing Morrissey!
HATED: That bloke in front of me who screamed “Queen Is Dead!” between every bloody song.
DRANK: Cider.
