Nobody Loves Us #8: Break Up The Family

Oh, hello again everybody.  Welcome back to the Nobody Loves Us Countdown.

If you don't know, I've been counting down my 20 favorite Mozzer non-singles each weekday until his concert on the 29th down at The Orpheum.  Unfortunately, the countdown was derailed last week thanks to technical difficulties, other blogging obligations, and a bout of bad health.

As it stands, two of those three problems have been resolved.  The computer seems to be running relatively smoothly again.  All the things that needed to be posted on Newest Industry were posted. Sadly, I'm still sick as a dog.  Frreal.

Yet, the blog marches on.  Here's what the list looks like so far:

20. One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell
19. Driving Your Girlfriend Home
18. Munich Air Disaster 1958
17. Seasick, Yet Still Docked
16. I Don't Mind If You Forget Me
15. Sister I'm A Poet
14. On The Streets I Ran
13. There's A Place In Hell For Me And My Friends
12. Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself?
11. Come Back To Camden
10. Disappointed
09. I've Changed My Plea To Guilty

And so here we are, on to #8:


#8. Break Up The Family (Morrissey/Street)

From the album Viva Hate.

 

Key Line: "I'm so glad to grow older, to move away from those younger years... I'm in love for the first time and I don't feel bad..." 

It's nearly impossible to listen to Viva Hate without hearing references to the then-recent break up of The Smiths.  Songs like, "Angel, Angel Down We Go Together" and "I Don't Mind If You Forget Me" could hardly be about anything else.

Which brings us to "Break Up The Family."  On first glance, it seems that this song must be about the band.  Morrissey has claimed over the years that this is not the case.  He insists that the song is tied to the splitting of a group of youthful friends from his boyhood days.  In theory, I suppose, this is believable.  However, I'm choosing not to believe it.

To me, it seems that this song was written in the aftermath of the breakup of the band in one of those rare, lucid moments when emotions are removed from the equation and the practicality of ending the relationship becomes apparent.  We've all reached that place after the end of serious relationships, haven't we?  We're all familiar with that moment when the clouds break (however momentarily), bitterness is removed, and the "big picture" suddenly emerges.  Not completely unlike the hypothetical conversation between man & country that I brought up in my "Come Back To Camden" post, we find Mozzer in this place the first time around, wishing his former "family" the best and asking only that they return the favor.

When Morrissey sings the line, "I'm so glad to grow older, to move away from those awful times..." he toes the line between celebration and bitterness in exquisite fashion.  It's no secret that, outside of the actual recording and performing, the business of being in "The Smiths" had taken its toll on everybody. When he comes to the line, "Let me see all my old friends, let me put my arms around them... Now, does that sound mad," it seems that he's referring to his former bandmates as people and friends.  Essentially, he's stating that the breakup of the band had nothing to do with any personal animosity.  That they are still his friends, but that it's also time to "grow older."

Musically, Stephen Street crafted an "unexpectedly funky" track.  To this day, "Break Up The Family" still stands out among the rest of Viva Hate largely on the strength of the instrumentation.  Cleverly, Street fills out the sound with Mozzer's vocal inflections drifting in and out of the mix, a trick that would be used repeatedly by various Morrissey producers for years to come.

Honestly, and this is strictly personal, "Break Up The Family" can be used as a barometer to gauge just how passionate a Mozzer fan a person is.  It's a track that definitely rewards repeated listens, especially in the context of the LP being played in its entirety. When somebody claims they are a Morrissey fan, ask them what their favorite song on Viva Hate is.  If they answer anything but "Break Up The Family," be immediately skeptical.

Nobody Loves Us #15: Sister I'm A Poet

Hi, everybody! Welcome to week two of the Nobody Loves Us countdown.

If you haven't been paying attention, I'm counting down my Top 20 Morrissey Non-Single tracks. Mozzer is playing at The Orpheum October 29^th and I decided it would be appropriate if I threw the spotlight on some of these forgotten classics each weekday up until the show.

In case you've missed the list so far, do me a favor and scroll down. Or just check out how it's played out:

20. One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell

19. Driving Your Girlfriend Home

18. Munich Air Disaster 1958

17. Seasick, Yet Still Docked

16. I Don't Mind If You Forget Me

So, with that said and done we return to the Viva Hate era with #15 on the list:

Sister I'm A Poet (Morrissey/Street)

B-Side from the Everyday Is Like Sunday single.

Key Line: “That's 'cause I'm a... Sister, I'm a... all over this town...”

While a huge chunk of Morrissey's solo debut Viva Hate was devoted to settling old scores with his estranged partner Johnny Marr (“Angel, Angel Down We Go Together” and “I Don't Mind If You Forget Me”), Mozzer was in fine braggadocio form with this b-side.

Released just a scant three months after Viva Hate (and, therefore, scarcely a year after the demise of The Smiths), “Sister I'm A Poet” is the closest thing we get to a victory lap from Morrissey.

Obviously, the song itself has little to do with Morrissey's actual sister Jacqueline. Rather, the titular “sister” is everybody in Manchester. It's safe to assume that Morrissey's ego was not at all concerned with anybody outside of his hometown since the song only references “this town” and nothing larger.

Of course, even in 1988, a large part of Morrissey's mythology had been built around his hometown of Manchester. I mean, one of the very first songs he and Marr ever wrote together was “Suffer Little Children,” a song that, in a roundabout sort of way, is used to stake The Smiths' and Morrissey's claim as an integral part of Manchester (even if that means associating themselves with the darkest part of the town's past). His opening line, “All over this town, a lone wind may blow....” is a subtle reference to the now-overcome loneliness of his youth.


Essentially, the same Morrissey who spent his formative years holed up in his mum's house reading books and watching James Dean movies still had not-so-secret desires to be a (regionally) famous person, a sex symbol (“I can see through everybody's clothes”) celebrated for more for his bookish outsiderdom than any sort of “mainstream” appeal. The line, “(I've) no reason to talk about the books I read but still I do...” says it all. At this point, it doesn't matter what Morrissey's on about, just that he's talking, and somebody should be there to take note of what's said. His reference to no longer being at the mercy of the town's stoplights is a brilliantly English way of explaining the level of fame he's attained (I'm no longer constrained by common courtesy!)

The quintessential line, “Is evil just something you are or something you do?” is, on it's surface, just a clever phrase, his over-arching point is that he's no longer concerned with such trivial matters of the direct consequences of said person's “evil,” but can has achieved a level of status and comfort that allows him to look at it through more abstract eyes, questioning the roots of said evil rather than the immediate affect.

(European-Style Football Sidenote: A couple of years back, David Beckham made his debut with the Los Angeles Galaxy of the MLS. It did not go well for the first few months, with the fans calling out Beckham and him taking equal offense. I remember watching an episode of Sportscenter in which Beckham was battling with the L.A. fans and seeing somebody holding up a sign that read, “Is evil something you are or something you do?” I have no idea how many Sportscenter viewers caught that and laughed out loud, but let the record show that I was among them).

Stephen Street has described the music for “Sister I'm A Poet” as a conscious attempt to write something that had the same jangle as The Smiths. Obviously he succeeded on that account. While the Morrissey critic is not necessarily wrong to listen to a song like this and think, “Oh, Mozzer isn't taking any chances with this one then, is he?” A fan can't help but listen to it and think, “God, Morrissey and a good guitar lead is all I'll ever need in life.”

Frankly, the fact that this song was demoted to a b-side is at once appropriate (no good Englishman would ever gloat so boastfully on an A-Side) and tragic (as Morrissey's rarely been so catchy and so knowing in his lyrics).

Nobody Loves Us #16: I Don't Mind If You Forget Me

Hello everybody and welcome back to the list blah, blah, blah...

If you still don't know what this list is, well let me let you know.  I'm counting down my 20 favorite Morrissey non-singles each weekday up until his concert October 29th at the Orpheum in beautiful downtown Minneapolis.

Here's what the list looks like so far:

20. One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell
19.  Driving Your Girlfriend Home
18. Munich Air Disaster 1958
17. Seasick, Yet Still Docked

Which brings us to #16:

#16: I Don't Mind If You Forget Me (Morrissey/Street)

From the album Viva Hate

Key line: "Rejection is one thing, but rejection from a fool is cruel..."

A late highlight in an album full of highlights, "I Don't Mind If You Forget Me" is the last rock n roll punch thrown on Viva Hate (though the coldly blunt "Margaret On The Guillotine lands the knockout blow).

When Stephen Street was crafting the music that would become Viva Hate he intentionally set out to write a song that sounded like "Motown meets The Buzzcocks."  In my opinion, that bridge was already crossed by The Jam with "Town Called Malice," but that's neither here nor there.

With a title like that, the casual fan would be forgiven for expecting a cliched, "woe is me," miserablist lament.  However, what became of that instrumental is one of Morrissey's more aggressive shots at his former partner Johnny Marr after the dissolution of The Smiths.

"Sincerely, I must tell you, your mild, "best wishes," they make me suspicious..."


And, bitterly,"Rejection is one thing but rejection from a fool is cruel..."

I mean, it's pretty obvious who lines like that are directed toward.

Of course, Morrissey being an inherently caring (if thin-skinned) man, he can't help but temper his disdain.

"The pressure to change, to move on, was strange and very strong, so this is why I tell you, I really do understand..."

With years of hindsight to our benefit, we know now that there is almost nothing Morrissey fears more than being forgotten.  As such, this song reads as more of an angry letter sent,possibly regretted, in the heat of a stormy breakup (albeit one that inspires more awkward, white person dancing than vodka and "No Diggity" combined.  At least in my apartment).