ALBUM REVIEW: MORRISSEY 'YEARS OF REFUSAL'
For 25 years now the word ‘ambiguity’ has had a picture of Morrissey beside it in the Oxford English Dictionary. With the notable exception of Bob Dylan, no other artist has to do so little to get so many people analysing and hypothesising before a single note is even heard. The main sleeve of ‘Years of Refusal’, Morrissey’s ninth solo record, has had Internet forums overflowing with opinions on its meaning and significance. Why the baby? Why the Fred Perry shirt? Why the etchings on Mozza’s wrist and the child’s forehead? And where do these signifiers fit in with the album’s title? ‘Refusal’ to do what? Is Mozza playing the persecuted prophet without honour again? Is it a reference to the years of refusing to step back on the stage with his former Smiths band-mates? In reality, Morrissey is, by now, more than aware of the constant scrutinising of everything he does and is probably having some fun with it as he resides indefinitely like the successor to Richard Harris in some plush hotel suite.
If Morrissey has refused to do anything it’s change. Yes, the “remarkably dressed” crooner now approaching 50 is a far cry from the pale emaciated and proudly aloof young man who fronted The Smiths. He is a lyricist that rarely ponders on anything but his own life. It is something that has become increasingly evident through the years and ‘Years of Refusal’ is a loud declaration that this is the only way forward for Morrissey now. "I’m doing very well" he states, as album opener ‘Something Is Squeezing My Skull’ continues his tradition of starting his albums off quite aggressively, with the stamp of the late Jerry Finn's production evident immediately. A schizophrenic tale of medication in a loveless modern world, the album opener is solitary a quiff away from Blink 182, yet there’s still enough to make the Kaiser Chiefs look on in envy and, one would hope, consider early retirement.
‘Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed’, with its tribal drum rolls by Matt Walker, who is in fantastic form though out the album, addresses “faceless moneymen” who have driven a debt-ridden mother to the depths of despair. In some ways it’s a revisit to 1984 and The Smiths’ ‘This Night Has Opened My Eyes’, albeit lyrically. Musically it’s quite a dull forgettable affair. ‘Black Cloud’ maintains the rock element and is an improvement, with Morrissey and band gelling well, reflecting practically three years on the road together. A guest appearance by non other than Jeff Beck must surely make for one of the more off-the-chart collaborations in recent times, yet his guitar riff intro should have fans forgetting that Johnny what’s-his-face for a second or two.
Lead off single 'I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris' is less aggressive and recreates the autumnal soundscapes of 'Vauxhall and I' period Morrissey. The nomadic Mancunian finds himself (yet again) in possession of a love "nobody wants", and in doing so embraces the welcoming Parisian "stone and steal" instead. Morrissey has described the track as his "cosmopolitan hymn to architecture" - a line much more interesting than anything in the actual song.
"When Last I Spoke To Carol" is yet another tale dismissing all hope of rescue, where our hero struggles to find words of encouragement for a bewildered ally. "I can't pretend it gets easier" sings Morrissey to "Carol", while his backing band pander quite beautifully to his Latino fanbase with flamenco guitars standing in sharp contrast to the pre-dominant rock essence of the album. The inclusion of last year’s singles ‘All You Need Is Me’ and ‘That’s How People Grow Up’, which both appeared on Morrissey’s ‘Greatest Hits’ compilation, is at first baffling, yet both sit well in this collection maintaining a tempo that makes ‘Years of Refusal’ sprint in a manner that one would not expect from a man approaching 50, least of all Steven Patrick Morrissey.
As someone who spent his twenties and thirties being “old but sadly wise” he now sounds increasingly youthful. While there is little lyrically to dwell on in this album, the most fascinating thing about Morrissey here is his voice, which is hitting notes previously un-attempted. His peculiar falsetto is as much an instrument as the chomping guitars on the resolute ‘I’m OK By Myself’ and the Sparks-influenced keyboards on ‘Sorry Doesn’t Help’ and the undoubted album highlight ‘It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore’. The latter has Morrissey touching on the lush atmospherics of The Blue Nile in the verses, and it contains the now obligatory single thinly veiled reference to ‘whoopie’ in a Morrissey album. “All the gifts that they give can’t compare in any way to the love I am now giving to you, right here, right now on the floor,” he sings – it’s gender unspecific and Morrissey at his best.
Sadly album producer Jerry Finn passed away last summer and while ‘Years of Refusal’ is a worthy swansong for the American, it does suffer, as did Finn’s previous collaboration with Morrissey in 2004, ‘You Are The Quarry’, with the artificial strings, which are quite obvious when used, particularly in the ballad ‘You Were Good In Your Time’. But the album is at its best when it rocks and in many ways is the album ‘Southpaw Grammar’ should’ve been back in 1995.
Rented rooms in Whalley Range are, by now, a long time ago and as a sun-soaked multi-millionaire Morrissey does right, by and large, to examine what condition his present condition is in and his alone. While this may see him fall into parody at points, it’s still comforting to know that he’s out there and probably at this moment driving his Jaguar XK Convertible to Mexico while admiring himself in the rearview mirror, with nothing for company but a compilation of Diana Dors, Timi Yuro and Jobriath that he made specifically for the trip.
7/10
