The Big Issue, July, 1997
"At 22 I felt like something that had died seven years previous, so the
prospect of being 40 is a doddle."
Gary Crossing meets a mellower Morrissey Los Angeles isn't the sort of place you'd expect to find Morrissey. A superficial, wilfully kitsch city of.
bronzed,rock-hard torsos, swimming pools, big cars,Hollywood stars and gangsta rappers, it hardly seems suited to the needs of a bashful, bookish, rapier-witted and quintessentially English artiste.
Yet, the elusive, rarely-interviewed pop star is here at West Hollywood's
Sunset arquis Hotel;
M a plam-tree shadow away
fromSunset Boulevard, a brisk Harleyride from Beverly Hills. U2 and Courtney Love sometimes
room here, Depeche Mode's Dave
Gahan overdosed here. A Sunset regular himself, Morrissey has beento LA six times this year
already. "I'm extremely
familiar with Loose Angela," he chuckles. Yes, there's a huge contrast between LA's lavishly-oiled hedonism and drizzly
Manchester, the inspiration for Morrissey's angst-ridden and witty songs, both solo and with cult Eighties indie outfit T
he Smiths. But the Oscar Wilde of rock has made the move from bedsit kitchen sink to the land of the drive-in and the
drive-by with elegant ease.Very much the Englishman abroad, he is untouched by LA life. A handsome devil, he looks the
picture of health. Charming, polite, eloquent and funny, with no trace of a Californian twang, he speaks in lyrical
Northern whispers."If you can stay here comfortably, it's remarkably glamorous," he says. "The blind consumerism is
extremely enjoyable if you can afford to ride its coat tails, although I'm aware that millions can't and that LA can be
a frightening quagmire of filth. Initially I had a naive view of America. I hated the fact it seemed to have so much
while I had nothing. I feel differently now. Guess why?" he laughs.
One of the main reasons Morrissey spends a lot of time here is a desire to be where he is liked. And he's very popular
across the pond. The singer's last US tour in 1992 ended with two sell-out shows. Record sales are ever on the up
Stateside, yet his last few singles barely pierced the British Top 30. So, while an ungrateful UK gives him the cold
shoulder, America runs to him with open arms. When he parted company with RCA, no other British label wanted to know
until Mercury US signed him.
Last year Morrissey even tried to move to LA. He lasted two weeks. "The fact that I had left
England completely shocked me," he says. "Yes, England drives me insane, but I can't ever imagine leaving it." At the
moment he is between homes. He has sold his north-London dwelling and, although he owns a house in Dublin, says he has
never lived there. His heart remains in London. "Even when I hate London I love it," he says. "I love the good and the bad,
the barren and the plush." The late-Nineties Morrissey is in limbo between two cultures. His days have no shape either.
"It's fascinating to wake up and have no idea what's about to happen," he says. "I can't imagine standing at a bus stop
at 10 to eight every morning. Tea, books, a sofa... that's a great way to live."
Despite devout British fans filling venues and giving his albums respectable chart positions
('95's Southpaw Grammar made No. 4), Morrissey is under no illusions
about his current status. "I'm in exile. I'm box-office poison as far as I can gather," he says.
"I'm simply a roadside curiosity. I don't know whether a hit single would change things."
Sparkling new single Alma Matters, and forthcoming album, Maladjusted, are easily the strongest, most confident
Morrissey material since his 1988 solo debut Viva Hate. But he doesn't hold out much hope for them on home shores.
"Once the tide turns it turns," he says. "And unless you have the wind in your sails there's very little
you can do. "Bad British feeling towards Stephen [sic] Patrick Morrissey came to a head last year.
Former Smiths drummer Mike Joyce took him and ex-sidekick Johnny Marr to court to claim 25 percent of the millions
made by The Smiths through hit albums like The Queen Is Dead. Morrissey and Marr, who penned the bulk of the songs,
had awarded themselves 40 percent each of the royalties, while Joyce and guitarist [sic] Andy Rourke -
who settled out of court - each had 10 percent. [Note: This statement is misleading. Joyce sued for performance royalties
only, not songwriting royalties.] A High Court Judge found in favour of Joyce and singled out Morrissey as "devious,
truculent and unreliable". The tabloids thought it was Christmas.
"I've never spoken to anybody about the case," says
Morrissey. "Anything that has been written has been other people's views, so obviously I haven't come out of it
well. It was presided over by a judge who had no knowledge of the music industry. He had to have Top Of The Pops explained
to him. The whole point was get Mozzer. Get him in the witness box and grill him. It was horrendous. If I had any faith
in the British judicial system before, I don't now. "Morrissey is very bitter about the judge's summing up of the trial.
"His words could have ruined my life. But he wanted to do that because he knew the press was writing about it, and all judges
want to be famous. It makes me feel that if you ever come up against a judge or have to stand in a witness box,
the best thing to do is lie. Don't bother with the truth."
So many people have used the Union Jack since then, with the eruption of Britpop. Nobody else
has been pilloried for it." Made during a "recurrent mood of, certainly despair, bordering on elation", Maladjusted finds
Morrissey once again in the role of misfit. "The writer Michael Bracewell recently described me as the outsider's outsider,
" he says. "That rang true. Whatever's in vogue isn't me. That's not enforced rebellion, it's quite natural. I can't
think of any other pop artist for whom it seems to be natural."
It's out there hovering on the edge that Morrissey has always done his best work. And those feelings of insecurity
aren't fading with age. Morrissey is 38, "two incredibly long and tedious years to go" till he's 40. "There has been no
significant change to my character. I'm slightly more at ease. But the main shortcomings that we have stay with us.
We either learn to hide them or deal with them."
He's not worried about his age and can't think of anything worse than being 22 again. "That's abhorrent to me.
At 22 I felt like something that had died seven years previous, so the prospect of being 40 is a doddle really."
Neither is he bothered about maintaining his creative edge. "There's an enormous gravity in my life, and I don't think that
I write songs in a superficial way," he says. "I haven't been swept away by a massive wave of popularity. If I had it would
be difficult to maintain. I don't face the dangers of instant evaporation. I can withstand the fact that I don't sell as
well as I used to. The people who buy my records do so for the right reasons. That's important because it means you're not
a fad.
"Having just finished the video for Alma Matters, Morrissey spends his time lounging poolside or driving around LA.
It's hard to imagine this gentle soul being aggressive enough to get behind the wheel, but he finds "the demon car a
complete necessity. "Morrissey is currently looking for a house in north London with a garage.