Morrissey
Years of Refusal
Lost Highway
By Eavvon O'Neal
The Moz has done well to preserve the privacy of his life outside of music, except for the glimpses he gives us through verse, and this is displayed best through Years of Refusal. Over the years, Morrissey has established himself as a lyricist whose ideas are strongly presented, but coyly mixed into a deep labyrinth of phrase; his ambiguity is both his strongest talent and also arguably the reason he attracts such attention. Still the most glaring issue with Morrissey’s style is how a man who both needs no one and sings to all is still able to function.
Morrissey’s strength has always resided in how he tells you he’s hurting. It’s at times jarring, but can also shine like a precious bauble, only to have him later ask you to return it. This fact remains unchanged throughout, up to his most recent offering, which is arguably the closest he’s ever gotten to perfecting the presentation of his personality. Nowhere is this clearer than on the lead single, “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris.” The song opens with the revving of a machine, sputtering to life as a modern day Tin Woodsman. He claims, “only stone and steel accept my love,” so why bother with trying; he’s already hollow. This pain is intensified by the fact that the one he wishes to love, has even attempted to match Morrissey’s droid like stature by making himself “very plain” but to no avail.
His proclivities and his need to embrace and ostracize those he wants close are aired openly on some of the albums most prominent songs. “That’s How People Grow Up,” a track for his detractors, attacks those who attempt to cramp his creative flair, but also accept it as a part of his calling. “All You Need Is Me” seems to be in the same vein, but works both as a rejection of whims of critics but also as a celebration of the fact that he may be needed. “One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell” is the most epic in this aspect, serving as the most ultimate realization of the pain a callous lifestyle can leave in its wake. Still Moz doesn’t ever seem regretful, only nostalgically pensive, which not only affects his words but is also displayed through the musicality of the album.
Sonically, Refusal is Morrissey’s complete embrace of his youthful innocence. It’s as if the power chords of punk rock helped to drown out the negative images of his career—the memories that precluded his adult life and his incessant battle with the public eye.
“Something Is Squeezing My Skull”, which starts the album, begins with “I’m doing very well, I can rock out the present and the past now,” adding further validity to his associating punk rock to comfort music. There is a notable flip between hard riffs and emotive ballads, and songs like “Black Cloud” with its morose opening but stronger emphasis on percussive elements hints as thoughtful turning points in the direction of the album.
Reminiscences turn into introspection then into hopeful ambition and then to “You Were Good In Your Time,” which is a naked confession of change and sorrow filed acceptance. It’s hard to discern if this song is dedicated to Moz’s self-eulogy, but it certainly feels like this is how he hopes to be remembered. He wants to be honored for his gift of clarity. He wants us to love him for his offerings of emotive honesty.
This admission helps to found his claims of solitude while also providing Morrissey with the only relationship he can support (stomach), that he has with his listeners. “Sorry Doesn’t Help” and “ I’m OK By Myself” close Years Of Refusal in the same way that Royal leaves the Tenenbaum family. He’s not so sorry for the acts he’s committed as is for those that may feel wronged by him working out his personal strife. Never really apologetic, but cognizant, Morrissey’s Years Of Refusal is also his lifetime of acceptance. This sad fact is why he will be both ours forever and a man no one can every fully love.
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