Not too long after the fantastic Bad Gays podcast on Morrissey (an audio essay by writer Huw Lemmey) comes a Politics, Theory, Other podcast featuring Kojo Koram and Owen Hatherley. Hatherley also wrote an excellent essay a few months ago on Morrissey’s journey from a figure on the anti-Thatcher left (a complicated, small-c conservative left) to – well, how far can I go without risking being sued? – what he is today.
I was only five when the Smiths broke up, so obviously I didn’t grow up with them, and I never got into them as a teenager, either. My loyalty was to indie music from the US. The Smiths to me lacked muscle and aggression – their music didn’t provoke that physical rush in me that, for whatever reason, I needed as a younger teen – and by the time I was seventeen or eighteen I’d formed the opinion that Morrissey was too arch, too fey, to speak either to me or for me. I liked musicians who said what they meant and meant what they said, even if as a result their lyrics were either hopelessly obscure at the one extreme or completely artless at the other. Morrissey always seemed to be hiding something behind a persona several layers deep, which he was constantly drawing attention to, inviting listeners to peel him like an onion. That was a game I was uninterested in playing.
As such, I didn’t really hear the fascination with violence in Morrissey’s lyrics that Hatherley keys in on in his essay, and neither did I hear how Morrissey’s romantic longings derived their effect – for fans at least – from the way he masked his sexuality while leaving in enough queer coding for those who knew where to look for it. I wasn’t among those who were looking, and anyway, nothing in my own childhood experience had taught me to pick up those clues. I simply didn’t need Morrissey in the way other kids did.
It was the intense identification from the fans who did need him that allowed Morrissey to shrug off the accusations of racism made against him in the early nineties by musicians including Cornershop’s Tjinder Singh and some writers in the press, most particularly the late Dele Fadele. (These – and the circumstances behind them – are well documented, so I won’t go over them again here.) Many (I would guess most) Smiths fans were (and are) instinctively anti-racist, even if not always in a considered, conscious way, and found it hard to reconcile the uncomfortable treatment of British Asians in Morrissey’s early-1990s solo material with his eighties work with the Smiths, and so took refuge in the idea that, like a British Randy Newman, Morrissey was merely adopting a character, depicting racism to critique it and satirise it.
His behaviour in the years since – his comments about the Chinese, his support for For Britain, Stephen Yaxley-Lennon and Nigel Farage, his derogatory remarks about politicians including Diane Abbott and Sadie Khan, his statement that “everyone ultimately prefers their own race” – has put him well past the point where that level of self-deception is tenable for his anti-racist fans. Peel the Morrissey onion enough and what’s revealed is just another tedious expat Little Englander, parrotting all the usual far-right talking points. The only distinguishing thing about this particular tedious Little Englander is that this one has a home in Los Angeles rather than the Costa del Sol. Lemmey, Koram and Hatherley have his number.