Morrissey in London – prime pop for grown-ups

Last night’s Morrissey gig at London’s Roundhouse – his third in a six night residency – was prime pop for grown-ups. A delightful show.

The setlist was a mixture of classic, recent and new material, with Irish Blood/English Heart, First Of The Gang To Die and Last Of The Famous International Playboys the standouts. The forthcoming single, That’s How People Grow Up, will justify careful scrutiny.

Mozza’s unique talent is pungent, wittily original lyrics, allied to an unmissable on-stage charisma: very few performers give good gig better than he. His rapport with the faithful is wondrous to behold.

Musically, last night was nothing to get excited about, though. Trenchant lyrics apart, Morrissey’s solo work sounds pedestrian to my ears: too little variety in melody, tempo or dynamics. No variation in delivery. No improv.

So his musos are in a straitjacket to start with. But this crew sounded dull anyway. And the sound, from stage left, 20 metres from the front, was muddy, bassy, and Il Mozzo was too low in the mix.

Morrissey was my first gig at the refurb’d Roundhouse. Very impressive – it easily reclaims its traditional status as London’s premier rockpop venue. Big enough for a 2,000 stand-up audience; small enough for intimate communion.

Pity about the audience. They’ve had to stop smoking (Hallelujah!), but most still yak incessantly, sing along as if they’re in the bath, and shuffle backwards and forwards to the bars all night long, spilling expensive, dubious-looking beer from plastic mugs over innocent bystanders.

All music venues, from the Royal Opera House to Ronnie Scott’s, attract more than their fair share of stiffs. But rockpop gigs are notorious: fully 50% of last night’s Roundhouse crowd were boneheads.




Gerry Smith