|
In part
two of NME's first chat with Morrissey in 12 years, he talks about
his time in a Los Angeles police cell, why he feels that love never
lasts and why it's the judges from Pop Idol we should fear most.
NME:
One of the songs on 'You Are The Quarry' is 'The World Is Full Of
Crashing Bores'. Name five…
Morrissey: "I could name 505, but that's not the point. Let's
just say the world is full of crashing bores. They know who they are,
particularly within music."
Are you
alluding to Pop Idol?
"It's the entire culture of so-called pop music and the assumption
that all you have to do is stand there and smile and you're a pop
idol. (Sighs in disgust) They are the aspects of modern
society that scare me to death. They're worse than terrorists."
Why?
Because they have more impact on ordinary people's lives?
"No, because they're idiots. It's just the hideous process
of wheeling them on, stripping them down and throwing them off. It's
just so degrading and sad, really. You do actually feel pity for them,
and you can only shudder at the working mind of the young people who
enter the competition."
Do you
think there's an element of sadism in popular culture that wasn't
there before?
"Definitely. And that is because people will do anything for
fame."
Did you
always want to be famous or did you just want to express yourself?
"No, I certainly wanted to be famous."
Would
you now if you were starting again?
"Well, I think when I was a child, more than anything else
I wanted not to be ordinary. And I wanted to be considered a bit peculiar.
When I was at school I wanted to be peculiar and I was delighted when
I was at secondary school and I was actually thought to be
peculiar (laughs). It was fantastically good for me because
I looked around me and I thought, 'Well, however you are I don't want
to be like you, so if you think I'm unbalanced then I'm delighted.'
That really stayed with me."
You said
last year that people adopt uniforms to become fascistic. Was that
about the police?
"Somewhat."
Have
you had brushes with the law?
"Last year I was in a cell in Los Angeles for three hours.
I was put through the whole process of tagging and searching, examining
personal items and so forth. It was harrowing."
What
happened, exactly?
"There was just some confusion over my passport and the airport
police come down very heavy on people who are supposedly in the country
or attempting to enter the country illegally - which I wasn't. At
the end of the three hours, when they realised, they were terribly
nice to me but, for the three hours before they realised, it was awful."
 What
did they do to you?
"Well, the police in America are terribly heavy and are themselves
beyond the law, so they can do anything. They can shoot you and it
doesn't matter to anybody. They don't have to account for themselves.
But they're very, very aggressive. And that's quite shocking, when
you're surrounded, dragged into a room and cross-examined."
What
did they ask you?
"Well, they asked absolutely everything. Whatever you say
in response, it sounds wrong, and that's the way it is with the police
- they're trained to humiliate. And they're trained to believe that
every single member of the public is a criminal and that it's their
job to find out how so. So as you can imagine, the level of questioning
from the police was just awful and there's not really much you can
do about it. Even though you explain yourself quite well, they always
find some way to ridicule you."
Did they
think you were a terrorist?
"Yes. Yes, they did. They thought I was a threat to national
security."
Did you
explain you were a singer?
"Yes. One of them knew me and said he had a CD in the car
and so forth. I offered a smile and it was mocked."
Was there
anyone else in your cell?
"There were a lot of people being detained, but I was the
only one in the cell that I was in. Have you ever sat in a cell? It's
pretty rough. I don't recommend it."
Is the
lyric, "The whispering may hurt you but the written word might
kill you", from 'You Know I Couldn't Last', about music critics?
"No it isn't, really. It's addressing people who have been
critical of me through the years and never quite given credit for
my having sustained a barrage of unrelenting criticism, which is quite
difficult for most people to take. Most people can't take criticism.
And I think I've been accused of everything except murder (sighs)
- which is bound to come at some stage, I don't doubt."
What's
the worst thing that's been said about you?
"There's been so many things."
Did the
racism charge hurt you most?
"Yes, because I don't have any racist feelings, so it's ludicrous."
On the
'Vauxhall And I' song 'Speedway', you sang, "All those lies/Written
lies, twisted lies/Well, they weren't lies".
"Well, life is a game, isn't it?"
Were
you just winding people up?
"Well, probably that also. (Laughs) People are there
to be wound up, as far as I'm concerned. There's no other function
for the human race."
Is 'All
The Lazy Dykes" about a lesbian commune?
"No. It's about a woman in a conventional marriage and I'm
- I, personally - am trying to convince her to go to The Palms
nightclub, which is on Santa Monica Boulevard."
Oh, so
it's a real place then?
"Yes, it is. And I'm trying to convince her to join the people
who she should really be with, and if she goes there and she allows
herself to be herself and let herself go she will be alive again."
Have
you been to the nightclub yourself?
"No, I haven't."
How do
you know what it's like then?
"(Laughs) Of course I've passed by many times. The
clientele are all spilling onto the pavement and they look absolutely
fascinating. Really very, very strong women; women who know who they
are and what they want and where they're coming from and where they're
going. Fascinating."
Is it
true that you fell out with (Dead or Alive singer and old friend)
Pete Burns over a fur coat?
"No, that's a story that he tells to people in the very, very
slim hope of appearing interesting. I never fell out with him at all.
He has a very strong personality and you have to be a bit of an athlete
to keep up with him and he has savage critique of the people
around him which becomes slightly wearing. But I do think he's very
talented and has a really good voice and I don't understand why he
doesn't do more, because he is a very interesting person."
You've
got quite a sharp tongue yourself, of course.
"(Laughs) Not really."
Do you
think you've mellowed?
"No, I don't think so. I lie in my bed and I like being comfortable.
Does that mean I've mellowed?"
Not really.
"No. Well then, I haven't mellowed."
You've
said that you now believe in vegetarianism even more than before.
What's intensified those feelings?
"Well, the love I feel for animals and the way they need my
love."
Have
you got any pets?
"I can't because I've just been running around so much. In
order to be the perfect parent you have to be there all the time.
If I had a pet I couldn't give him the attention he needed. I have
obviously in the past had lots that have expired along the way. I
think it's so unfair if you're not there all the time. Cats love routine
every day and dogs need so much attention. But I have absolutely no
doubt that I'll have masses of animals once I decide to be still."
On 'I
Have Forgiven Jesus' you reiterate a constant theme in your work:
that you find it impossible to love and be loved. Surely people are
queuing up?
"To do what?"
To have
you as a boyfriend or a partner.
(Morrissey sniggers)
Is that
not the case?
"Well, I haven't noticed any queues to be honest. I mean,
there isn't one outside this hotel, is there?"
Nobody
knows you're here!
"Well, that's a mere detail. There's still no queue, so that
scotches that idea. Well, how do I answer that question without even
really knowing what the question is? (Ponders) It's
the human condition, I think. Constantly looking for affection. Wondering
why it isn't there when you need it to be."
It must
have been there at some point.
"When do you mean? The release of 'Suedehead'? (Falls
about laughing)"
Why do
you say that?
"Just because it's ridiculous. (Thinks) Yes,
to be quite honest yes it is…fleetingly. It comes in and out.
But it's not something I ever speak about because it… it isn't
lasting. I mean, is it lasting in your life?"
No, not
really. Well, not so far.
"'No, not really. Not so far.' What do you mean - no?"
At the
moment no, but I imagine that… well, I hope I'll meet someone.
"Well, you see, that's the trick of life, isn't it? How old
are you?"
Twenty-nine.
"Twenty-nine? Forget it. Buy yourself a nice budgie. That's
my advice to you."
Why:
do you think I'd be settled down by now if it was going to happen?
"Well, you know, you've been roaming the planet for 29 year,
and if it hasn't struck you on the head by now I think you'd just
better really get used to that television set and get yourself a nice
comfortable armchair - which is fine, nothing wrong with that. You
see, when you're a bit younger you constantly think, 'It's bound
to happen. I'm bound to turn around a certain corner and be
faced by love everlasting.' And it's a trick of the light, I'm afraid.
(Drinks tea) Sorry about that. 'What the palmist said.'"
Definitely.
It's a bit like being cursed.
"All part and parcel of a Morrissey interview. There's no
charge."
So what
happens next?
"What, for you?"
In the
world of Morrissey. Or for me, if you want.
"Well, do you really want to dwell on it? I'm just sliding
down life's chute. Either people will take this album and really enjoy
it, and that will be thrilling for me, or they won't. And so be it.
But this certainly feels like the moment. Which is quite astonishing
considering I've been around for 50 years. A late flush. I'm a late
lark singing."
Is this
your Indian summer?
"Don't go too far!"
|
