1987 02 14 The Smiths Record Mirror

THE BOY IN THE BUBBLE 

Finally -- yes, finally! -- Morrissey speaks -- cautiously, immodestly, pompously, arrogantly, defensively... Stuart Bailie probes Steven Patrick's balance of innocence and insanity, and discovers that, although the Smiths have once again swept the polls, their leading light conceals a surprising shyness and insecurity. Persona portraits: Patrick Quigly. Morrissey/Marr photo by Jo Novark.

It takes all number of hitches, provisos and cancellations, but eventually our first interview with Morrissey in a year and a half is finalised. Indeed, sometimes along the way it seemed that negotiating for global disarmament would have made an easier, more thankful task. And then by way of a final dramatic flourish, we encountered a photo session that was unusual even by Morrissey standards.

The transparencies which arrived (most of which were later vetoed by the singer) showed him pancaked and pouting, with a 'tattoo' pencilled on his forearm. The plan, apparently, had been to look like Elvis Presley, but he came out of it looking more like Coco the Clown. Just what was he getting up to? This, combined with his legendary isolation, and speculations about his emotional balance, begged the question once again. Was he developing into some sort of homegrown Michael Jackson, our very own boy in the bubble? In short, had Mozzer finally gone wacko?

Thankfully, the young man I come across the following week seems fully possessed of all his faculties. Maybe he's just a little bit cautious, but given his turbulent relationship with the press, that's quite understandable. I pump his hand, present him with some bottles of stout (a colleague's peace offering) and ask him about these curious outtakes from the photo session.

"I was really pleased with the session at the time," he explains ruefully, "but when I saw the slides, I just looked like... a ponce, really. I had too much make-up on, I just looked like the pop star in the studio. So I thought no, not really."

The photos made you look like you had put on some weight, didn't they?

"I mean, time does pass; I'm not a teenager any more, which may surprise you. I'm not really a teenager, I have grown quite old recently, especially with all the worry," (he laughs) "and the financial hardship."

So do you always insist on approving photographs of yourself?

"Yes, but not because I want photographs which make me look unnaturally young or anything like that, but just because there are certain profiles that have to be banished from the public eye, as you can imagine. And so they are.

"You'd do the same thing if you had photographs taken that were supernaturally ugly. You wouldn't say, 'That one would make a nice front cover'; you'd say, 'Hide that one, and find a nice one'.

"It's not vain to want to look acceptable, not really. Vanity doesn't enter into it. But even if it did, it's not too bad to want to look reasonable, is it?"

The idea was for you to look like the Elvis photo on the cover of 'Shoplifters', wasn't it?

"Not really, I mean that would be too much to strive for."

But didn't you choose that picture of Elvis because it looks slightly like you?

"I wish that were even vaguely true. No, it doesn't, not to the clear-sighted."

There is some resemblance, you must admit that.

"Well, I'm deeply, deeply, deeply flattered."

I didn't actually say which bits were the same, though!

"Yes... I thought you'd have to go and spoil it. It was the bow tie, wasn't it?" 

'Shoplifters Of The World Unite' is the thirteenth Smiths single in four years, and whatever your views on the band (people will differ wildly here) they are unquestionably the most consistent English singles band to emerge this decade. The last four singles, for example, have all differed in style, pace and lyrical attack, and it is no longer enough for their opponents to write them off as being simply 'miserable'. Having said that, 'Shoplifters' is less immediate than 'Ask' or 'Panic', and the diehards have been either wailing "Another 'Shakespeare's Sister'!" or holding out in the hope that it will be a grower in the "How Soon Is Now" mould.

Lyrically, 'Shoplifters' is an obscure affair, and the author is typically unhappy about expanding on the song's meaning.

"Well, I never really like to say, I never really like to pin it down. Do you understand that? I mean, there's someone in Huddersfield who might have a fascinating, fiery explanation, and then I go and shatter it by saying it's about greyhound racing. Their life collapses."

That's putting it a bit strongly, isn't it?

"Well, you never know, it happens. I mean, I could talk about nuclear weapons, but it gets quite tiresome, doesn't it? Everyone gets quite bored with it. I often wonder why shoplifting can be such a serious crime when making nuclear weapons isn't. That should really be a crime, I think, but it isn't. We live in a very twisted world, with a very twisted morality."

Yet in the midst of all this unpleasantness, Morrissey confesses that the continued support for the Smiths "lightens one's step". He gratefully acknowledges the rm poll results which gave the Smiths the best band award, the best album ('The Queen Is Dead'), the best single ('Panic'). And as for the man himself taking the runner-up slot in the 'Best Buttocks' category? "It was perfectly justified," he immodestly remarks. But going back to 'Panic' for a moment, didn't some say it was slightly similar to T Rex's 'Metal Guru'?

"Well, it was whispered somewhere in the corridors of the British Isles, I can't remember where, but... I don't know, everything has its reference points, I suppose. Like the clothes we wear have their reference points..."

"I thought the song was extremely funny, I really did. And I thought it was extremely funny to hear it on national daytime radio on the few occasions it was actually played in the mish-mash of monstrous morbidity... I think it was quite amusing -- a tiny revolution in its own sweet way.

"After that it was quite crucial to release a single that was a slight antidote to 'Panic', because if the next single had been a slight protest, regardless of the merits of the actual song, people would say, 'Here we go again.' That's why we put out 'Ask'. The idea there is... Well, restraint is a decent thing really, but it's nice to throw caution to the wind as well -- to jump in at the deep end."

Morrissey's conviction that 'restraint is a decent thing' has of course been well documented in the past, as has the notion that his records can "ease the paranoia of being celibate". But another area in which the Smiths have been highly influential has been in creating a better climate for the newer breeds of indie bands.

Many of the shambling-type bands, for instance, owe a debt to the Smiths in providing an audience for softer, more articulate music. It is now much easier to sing about 'affairs of the heart', and the pressure to fall back on rock and roll stereotypes is no longer so pressing. Witness the success, for example, of Talulah Gosh, who share with Morrissey a love of Sixties all-girl groups and an affinity with singers like Twinkle.

Does Morrissey himself feel that it's easier now for bands to be musically, er... 'wet'?

"I don't know about wet: a lot of people drag that word out, and I don't actually approve of that term. Because it might be 'wet' as far as cavemen logic goes, in very traditional, brusque terms. I quite enjoy the history of British music, and I think that was a very scarce feeling within recent years. People would not see Twinkle or suchlike as an intelligent reference point.

"People didn't understand what Sandie Shaw meant, or even Billy Fury perhaps. I think there was a great wealth of creativity in those seemingly simplistic English small town approaches. I mean, I never cared for James Brown and Chuck Berry.

"As far as the term 'wet' is concerned, I don't know many top 10 groups who would call their LP 'The Queen Is Dead' -- there'd be too much to lose. The Smiths certainly take risks; I don't think we've ever made life easy for ourselves.

"So I don't really believe that the groups who appreciate the Smiths are fey individuals. I think they must have some degree of strength."

Have you been impressed by any of the Matt Johnson records?

"I have accidentally heard some of it. It hasn't stirred me in any great way -- in the same way that the Christians or the Primitives have.

"The difference, I suppose, and the thing that makes the Smiths so unique, is the fact that in certain territories we have reached a stadium level. And on reaching that level, the temptation to be respectable and just sail along is very great, and I don't think the Smiths have acknowledged that in any way. I don't know how Matt Johnson would write if he was playing in front of an audience of 15,000 people."

And what about the Housemartins?

"I'm not really sure. I can't really work it out, to be quite honest. I do appreciate their presence, and the fact that they have views, I think, is quite revolutionary. And I know they're receiving blockages from certain directions because of their viewpoints, which I think is really admirable.

"I'd rather have them in that position than anybody else. They seem to take over from where Madness left off, which is good because it can be enlightening for the younger section of the record buyers. Their record has gone platinum, I believe."

This is the side of Morrissey that some people find unbearable; the pompous, opinionated persona that he has adopted to counter his shyness and insecurity. But he wears this arrogance badly, and his intolerance for non-Smiths disciples is especially annoying when you consider how many of his songs appeal for open-mindedness. In the course of our short conversation, he decides that I must be "a Saint and Greavesie man", accuses me of liking 'Oi' music, and pooh-poohs my going for a chocolate biscuit instead of his fruit shortcake selection. Some of us, after all, just aren't cut out for fruit shortcakes.

On the other hand, he perks up at the mention of St Valentine's Day, and the prospect of "tons and tons of cards with fluff on them, and big yellow hamsters." On the subject of the Moors Murderers, and the recent turn of events, he is genuinely concerned about the parents of the dead children, and is upset that the public attitude to Myra Hindley has become "dangerously civil". He enthuses about the TV show 'Golden Girls', and raves about a book called 'Jealousy' by Nancy Friday.

"Do you know Nancy Friday? Her most famous book is 'My Mother, Myself', which you've surely stumbled across; it's been everywhere for years. You've not read it? I'm stunned!

"So this book is about jealousy, and it's remarkable, I'm just underlining everything. What's it about? I don't know how to describe it, let's just say that I'm learning so much from it." (NB: Nancy Friday is a feminist writer; 'My Mother, Myself' is about mothers and daughters -- Ed.).

Would you say that you were a jealous person?

"Oh, desperately. But I tend to find jealousy where it doesn't exist, within circles of people, which is a great barrier. But I think everyone has their particular traits, and I don't think jealousy is particularly negative. But I only learned that through reading Nancy Friday."

The holier-than-thou aspect of Morrissey's public profile has naturally enough tempted numerous journalists to try and bring him down, though none have met with any great success. Some have unsuccessfully tried to brand him as a racist, picking up on his 'burn down the disco' sentiments on black music.

The other line has been to probe for a story on the man's sexuality, taking their cue from the camp artwork on Smiths record sleeves and from lyrics like "I'm the eighteenth descendent of some old queen or another". Perhaps the most 'creative' of these investigations involved putting Morrissey together with his friend Pete Burns and 'documenting' the outcome.

"Well, I never talk about this really."

Were you pissed off about it?

"Yes, completely, and I don't have anything vaguely humorous to say about it. It had no reflection of what actually occurred and it made me out to be a bit poncified... Pete was less annoyed, even though I said to him, 'You never said that, you never called me Joan Collins.' His attitude was, well, forget it, but that's not really my attitude. I think it was absolutely and pathetically stupid."

You were portrayed as two queens camping it up, weren't you?

"Well, of course, that's what certainly came through. But it was a really sombre day -- we were just sitting around on the settee being quizzed. I find that most journalists, when they create an overblown, camp atmosphere in interviews, they tend to have some alternative interests. And more than that, I shall not say.

"Like there's this journalist in America, I've been interviewed twice by him, and he's a leading voice in the gay movement in America. And on the two occasions when I've had rather damp conversations with him, he's transcribed these as 'the dawn of gay lib' and 'the Smiths are the gay voice of the world'. Which to me is absolute crap -- I really resent that kind of thing being written."

And the speculations about Andy Rourke's involvement in drugs?

"I can't really deny anything. I don't really know that it's my place to speak on Andy's behalf, because it is quite personal. And that's that, really."

Are there any further thoughts about the band signing to EMI?

"Let's just say that it's a necessary progression. It's a very touchy issue and I'd rather just get on with it rather than discuss it."

And so the Smiths will surely continue to 'get on with it' in their prolific and highly individual way, mapping out the last frontiers of rock music with intelligence and taste. The Morrissey/Marr team is without rival in this department, based on what the singer sees as a well-defined structure. "I often feel that whereas I can lay eggs, Johnny can make omelettes."

The end of this month sees the release of a compilation album, 'The World Won't Listen', a companion to 'Hatful Of Hollow' with its assortment of singles and B-sides, plus the tandoori-flavoured 'You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby', which was once planned as a follow-up to 'Panic'. Unlike 'The Queen Is Dead' however, this album doesn't have the unity of feeling and the mixture of the comic and serious that made the last LP such a great success. Side two of this new release, in particular, makes for some very depressing listening.

Setting that aside though, what are we to make of this character Morrissey? Is he some kind of contemporary poet, a visionary outcast who is pointing the way towards a more civilised consciousness? Or shall we believe the cynics who reckon he's an egotistical twit with a whole lorry load of hang-ups? An hour and a half in the man's company confirms that he's anything but an ordinary Joe, but successfully reinforces all the other confusions. Let's just say that the jury's still out on this one.