The relatively recent explosion in the popularity and marketability of Emo-punk bands has eroded almost any form of subtlety from the genre’s songwriting.
Bands have forsaken the concept of well-worded meditations on despair, rejection and other emotional subjects in favor of blunt-force metaphors, cheesy description and some mention of miscellaneous acts of violence. In case the listener doesn’t get it from all these blaring clues, there’s usually a heavy dose of screaming to really send the message home.
Some bands do try their best to get poetic, but most come off sounding naďve or ambiguous and, ultimately, lacking the quiet, seething intensity of a moving work of lyricism.
While different bands take different approaches with varying degrees of success, there is one common attribute: All of them, whether they know it or not, worship at the temple of Morrissey, who has been churning out cleverly depressing lyrics for longer than anyone in the business while retaining a mainstream flair and impressive album sales (particularly in the UK.)
Yes, the Pope of Mope is back with his eighth solo album, “Ringleader of the Tormentors.” After the success of 2004’s “You are the Quarry,” it might be expected that the pontiff would stick to the adult contemporary rock feel and “televised car-chase production” that so characterized that release, according to Pitchfork Media’s Marc Hogan.
Instead, Moz makes some subtle changes including a bit more experimental composition, courtesy of legendary film composer Ennio Morricone, while maintaining the mood of traditional mainstream chunk-rock.
Even with the quiet new changes in the sound, Morrissey is still Morrissey and if you liked him then, you’ll probably still like him now – but if you didn’t like him then, you probably still won’t like him now.
Morrissey’s voice and airy sound are as distinct as ever and the bouffant-coifed crooner still sings with the intense weight of despair, hopelessness and self-contradiction that listeners have come to expect; the album offers little to those who have already dismissed Morrissey from their musical tastes and will probably only capture the hearts of long-time fans.
One need only look at the song titles to understand the well-trod depths of despair to which Morrissey eloquently returns: the epic “Life is a Pigsty,” the early ’90s pop-sounding “I’ll Never Be Anyone’s Hero Now,” and the admittedly touching “Dear God Please Help Me.”
Even the most happily-titled songs are depressing, expressed no more clearly than in the late-album balladry of “To Me You Are A Work of Art” where we hear Morrissey spit “I see the world / It makes me puke” just before this chilling chorus: “But then I look at you and know / That somewhere there’s a someone who can soothe me / To me you are a work of art / And I would give you my heart / That’s if I had one.”
Is it gloomy? You bet. But at least he isn’t screaming.
What’s striking about Morrissey is his uncanny ability to write songs that are quietly simple, yet strikingly poetic, all the while singing melodies like cheerier pop songs. The first single, the boldly titled “You Have Killed Me,” could easily be used as a case for more uplifting lyrics.
He’s still singing emo lyrics but in place of the blast beats, the predictable chord progressions and the needless screaming, there is subtlety, a gentle voice breathing it all out, as if to say “yes, I’m sad, but I don’t want to make you feel the same way.”
It’s emotional but not overbearing and it’s not for everybody, but it’s something to be considered in an otherwise blaring world of lyrical misery.
|
|
|
