Morrissey, Brixton Academy, London

Nick Hasted
Monday 15 August 2011 19:00 EDT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

The last time I saw Morrissey at the Brixton Academy, he was in The Smiths and lines of horse-backed police awaited our exit. The police are out in force in nearby streets as I arrive tonight, and the singer alludes to the weekend's unrest, wondering if David Cameron has ever been to Tottenham and pointedly playing "People Are the Same Everywhere". But Morrissey always carries a self-provoked micro-climate of trouble.

"All of the rumours keeping me grounded," he's soon singing during 1994's "Speedway", "well I never said they were completely unfounded". There were weary shrugs at his latest decision to say something outrageous, but Morrissey's need to be embattled is part of what keeps him musically alive. His band provide a rock sound of exciting attack, while throughout the crowd there is fervent activity and idolisation. The latter is fed by a star who needs and understands it, leaning down to shake hands and take gifts.

Two songs from the generation-defining Smiths album The Queen Is Dead are inevitable highlights. "I Know It's Over" awakens now nostalgic memories of virginal longing in the middle-aged, and every word of "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out", that romantic ode to romantic defeat, is hymned by the crowd.

Morrissey has if anything lost perspective since those classics of adolescence, but retains potent confidence that he matters. He throws his shirt into the crowd at the end, a relic of a man who remains a sacred and profane star.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in