He's Okay By Himself! Morrissey's "Years of Refusal"

Careful now.  We know that's not your kid.

Poor, poor Morrissey.

Which is exactly the sort of sentiment generally fostered by critics and fans with regard to both the man’s work and his personal life, although I feel that Years of Refusal, his latest album seems more subject to that distanced pity than anything else the man has ever done.  For the first time, Morrissey is outwardly declaring that being alone in life is alright, and he’s doing so with such vigor and verve that he almost seems happy to admit this.  Perhaps because of this newfound energy, he seems like he’s trying too hard to get that message across, as if he’s still desperately attempting to convince himself of these beliefs (which seems quite likely), never mind the rest of us.

I mean, look at some of these lyrics!  “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris” explains that he’s finding joy in the city with a gorgeous, cinematic sheen, but because “only stone and steel accept my love… in the absence of human touch.”  Yeesh.  And how about “That’s How People Grow Up,” where he decides that getting into a paralyzing car crash is worse than “never being someone’s sweetie?”  But Steven!  How many times have you broken your spine?  And then there’s the grand finale that says it all, “I’m OK By Myself.”  If you think Morrissey’s found some sort of true zen in solitude, think again, because the only reason he’s “OK” with this fate (and no greater than “OK”) is because he can’t trust anyone who’s ever loved him!  Why change now?  He’s throwing in the towel, at long last.  Or something like that.

And that’s why Morrissey is a poor, poor, forty-nine year old, “asexual,” pseudo-celibate bastard, and that’s why this is the first album that’s prompted such a reaction from me.  Sure, he’s been doing the loneliness-and-pathos thing for years and years, but he always had a true wit about it, so it was easier to take a grain of salt with the whole act and while it all never seemed insincere, there’s no doubt that he worked off of an established formula that worked and resonated with millions of young (homosexual Latino males?) people across (Latin America?) the world.  Here, it truly seems like he’s writing about no one other than himself.  We’re all lonely for extended periods of time, but very rarely do we find ourselves alone for forty-nine years.  Ah, well.  Perhaps we can expect Years of Denial to come out in 2019.

Alas, he has done a pretty good job of trying to convince himself that everything is alright because he sings with such conviction and energy that Years of Refusal is anything but a pity-fest for the guy.  This is clear from the get-go, with “Something is Squeezing My Skull” launching the album immediately into punkish territory with Moz railing against antidepressants with a catchy “Don’tgimmeanymore” vocal hook.  From there, he croons and moans throughout what may be his most stylistically diverse album.  He’s got military drums and church organ (“Mama Lay Softly on the Riverbed”), mariachi horns (“When Last I Spoke to Carol”) and minor-key dirges (“You Were Good in Your Time,” the only time the album lets down its energy and as a result, is its worst track – but it’s kind of a breather!).

Since his "comeback" record, 2004’s You Are the Quarry, Years of Refusal has laid out a trilogy of albums that have marked a real return to form and renewed vitality for the singer.  Just listen to the final minute or so of the album’s bombastic emotional centerpiece, “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” where he wails tunefully over a meaty backing performance.  The man not only has an impressive vocal range that he does not display often enough, but he also sounds younger here than he ever has (and also, curiously a lot like his greatest musical offspring, Jarvis Cocker).  This sort of youth (no doubt stemmed from his acceptance/denial of solitude or whatever) is felt all over, and certainly the backing performers should be given credit, providing an up-tempo, loud, albeit clean template for Morrissey to do his thing over (Colin Meloy tweeted that it was “cock rock;” he should tweet for himself).  And I’ll be damned if there isn’t something liberating about hearing him proudly declare, “And when I die, I want to go to hell.”

So there it is.  Morrissey has found new life.  I personally think he’s kidding himself, but he’s making better music because of it, so good for him, and if he really is feeling better about whatever his problems exactly are, then all the power to him.  Still, there are a couple of cracks in the structure: “As for me, I’m OK/For now, anyway.”  Whatever.  Denial is the first step toward acceptance.  That’s how people grow up, isn’t it?

And oh, hey!  Here he is playing the album's lead-off track on Jimmy Kimmel.  Whaddaya know.  Also, look for a couple promotional videos from the album, one of which has him playing with puppies, and in the other, he dicks around with a tambourine.