I like Morrissey, but I wouldn’t really call myself a Morrissey fan. After being invited to a Morrissey show, I decided that I should study-up so I’d know more of the songs. This involved borrowing approximately six Morrissey albums and listening only to Morrissey for several days. This made me (in order) depressed, apathetic, aloof, and finally… somewhat anti-patriotic. These emotions were conjured by the music itself, whereas the fact of my listening to the music (typically in the car at high volume levels) also made me feel somewhat embarrassed. I’m pulling out of the Home Depot parking lot with the windows down blasting “the heart feels free”, and I’m free not to make eye contact with the driver of the massive pick-up truck next to me. On the other hand, each morning I pass a construction site which features two trucks labeled “Morrissey Electric”, so his name is not totally foreign to the construction trade.
Of course, I now realize that I should have invested my efforts in listening to the latest Morrissey album over and over, because taking one or two passes at six Morrissey albums wasn’t really an effective way to “study”. In the end, Morrissey lost his voice and canceled the show – so I’m back to Bright Eyes and The National.