|Morrissey, replete in peach (shirt #1 of 5)|
His visage was all on over that stage
(at the elegant Heinz Hall)
|Barney, Wilma and Steve in the "cheap" seats|
All day I kept thinking "he better fucking show up this time." Well, he did. With a five-piece back up band, a big ass light show, and a trunk load of shirts which he changed every four songs whether he needed to or not.
It's been a while since I've sat through one of these uber productions. It was a fun change, but it also made me appreciate the smaller, more intimate, reasonably priced (read cheapo) shows I normally attend.
|light show a go-go|
So back to Moz...
He's held up rather well. His angst agrees with him apparently. His voice was exactly the same as his younger self. Unfaltering. He entered the stage amidst the spinning cookie lights, dramatically pausing, posturing, theatrically kneeling up stage near the drum kit (complete with timpani and eight foot gong), shaking hands with his minion in the front row, and pushing the mic stand over like a true diva. It was hysterical.
I kinda love it.
For the second or third shirt change (who can remember) he came out in a denim number which he promptly ripped off and tossed into the audience during the chorus. At which point, my old pal, Steve remarked, "okay, he's not in bad shape, but nobody needs to see that. NOBODY."
Truth be told, he didn't play enough hits for me. No "There's a Light That Never Goes Out." No "Big Mouth Strikes Again". No "Sheila Take a Bow". No "Panic". No "Cemetery Gates". And that's just off the top of my head. I wasn't familiar with most of his selections, but boy howdy, the two kids in front of us were going to town, thrashing their heads with abandon for each and every offering. We had a great time watching them freak.
I tell you this though, I could have done without the graphic slaughterhouse footage rolling behind him during "Meat is Murder".
I. Get. It.
You're a vegan. You're opposed to people using animals as food, but I don't want to see that shit at a concert, yo! Also, he ended the master setlist on that Debbie Downer.
What. the. EF?
Never having been to one of his elusive performances before, I had no idea the whole fans-jumping-on-stage-to-touch-and-or-hug-the-Moz was a thing with him. Three adoring followers (two male, one female) took the leap of faith to lay hands on His mighty self, while Morrissey continued crooning uninterrupted. But only three jumped to kiss his ring, which may be why we only got a ONE SONG ENCORE!!?!
Okay, it was How Soon is Now, but still. WTF?
It was different. Not horrible at all, just ... different. I can't say for sure whether it was worth the self-inflicted wound of sleep deprivation suffered the next morning at the cruel hour of 2:30am, but I'm glad to finally have had the chance to see him. I'm still bummed I foolishly passed up the opportunity to see him with The Smiths back in 89, but this was one for ye olde bucket list, fo sho.