I have deceided Constant Reader... this is my foot and I am putting it down. I *never* want to stand for a gig again. It has taken 30+ years of going to events to make me realise this but so many recent gigs have been ruined by the twunts who only go to a) drink b) talk c) drink & talk. The latest casualty was Morrissey tonight at the Roundhouse. Now Moz's fans can be odd at the best of times but... no. No more.I was strangely unexcited as today went on... I was seeing Morrissey... where was the excitement that would normally be building? The Roundhouse is a good venue for him, he was coming off hugely successful residencies in NY and LA and had a fistful of new songs.
It started off promisingly with what I suspect are highlights from Mozza's video collection - slightly off-the-wall numbers by Sacha Distel, Brigitte Bardot, Anthony Newley and a bizarre one of a young Alvin Stardust lookylikey doing a twist number. Oh and The New York Dolls on MusikLaden.
As you can see from the above shot I was well positioned for the central mike... until the screen dropped to reveal the stage when of course the twats in front of me happily let huzzing big tall blokes in to stand in front of them. Owen decamped to the back wall and texted to say he had a good view so I joined him. It was a good view. But sadly it was between the bar and the bogs, so the traffic was endless.
Now I would usually expect Morrissey to be spellbinding enough to make me forget such things but no. Don't get me wrong.... he was in good voice, the songs themselves were not at fault (I did a setlist on my iPod on the way home and enjoyed all of them). So why at one point did I turn to Owen and say I was ready to go? A combination of the non-stop yakking and constantly moving punters all around me and Morrissey being good. Not spellbinding, not magnificent, just good. And being good was not enough to distract me from the constant stream of supposed fans roaming around the auditorium.
I saw him in blistering form three times in a row, at the Royal Albert Hall and Brixton Academy in 2002 and at Royal Festival Hall in 2004. Tonight there seemed to be no tension driving the band. A set of 19 songs felt like exactly that. At one point I turned to Owen and asked was this in fact one of the longest gigs ever? He had only been on for an hour.
By the time I had confronted myself with the fact that I really wasn't enjoying myself and that I was ready to leave... he had sung Irish Blood English Heart, said thank you and left. By the time I came back from the gents he was halfway through The First Of The Gang To Die which turned out to be the only song sung as an encore as he left the stage closely followed by me leaving the Roundhouse.
In case you want to know this was the set-list -
Last of The Famous International Playboys, How Soon Is Now?, That's How People Grow Up, Stop me If You Have Heard This One, Something Is Squeezing My Skull, Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself, Tomorrow, One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell, The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores, Stretch Out and Wait, All You Need Is Me, I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris, Sister I'm A Poet, Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed, Billy Budd, Death of A Disco Dancer, Irish Blood English Heart, The First of The Gang To Die
Now I would usually expect Morrissey to be spellbinding enough to make me forget such things but no. Don't get me wrong.... he was in good voice, the songs themselves were not at fault (I did a setlist on my iPod on the way home and enjoyed all of them). So why at one point did I turn to Owen and say I was ready to go? A combination of the non-stop yakking and constantly moving punters all around me and Morrissey being good. Not spellbinding, not magnificent, just good. And being good was not enough to distract me from the constant stream of supposed fans roaming around the auditorium.I saw him in blistering form three times in a row, at the Royal Albert Hall and Brixton Academy in 2002 and at Royal Festival Hall in 2004. Tonight there seemed to be no tension driving the band. A set of 19 songs felt like exactly that. At one point I turned to Owen and asked was this in fact one of the longest gigs ever? He had only been on for an hour.
By the time I had confronted myself with the fact that I really wasn't enjoying myself and that I was ready to leave... he had sung Irish Blood English Heart, said thank you and left. By the time I came back from the gents he was halfway through The First Of The Gang To Die which turned out to be the only song sung as an encore as he left the stage closely followed by me leaving the Roundhouse. In case you want to know this was the set-list -
Last of The Famous International Playboys, How Soon Is Now?, That's How People Grow Up, Stop me If You Have Heard This One, Something Is Squeezing My Skull, Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself, Tomorrow, One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell, The World Is Full Of Crashing Bores, Stretch Out and Wait, All You Need Is Me, I'm Throwing My Arms Around Paris, Sister I'm A Poet, Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed, Billy Budd, Death of A Disco Dancer, Irish Blood English Heart, The First of The Gang To Die
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