Morrissey - The Pageant Of His Bleeding Heart

Thank you all for the kind words. I'm glad if what I wrote contributed to interest in Hopps' book. I think it's worth it.

cheers

After reading your summary i think i will definitely get his book.
There's also an excerpt from the first chapter on Amazon which you can read - it's only £11 on there right now! :)
 
Bravo, Qvist. You have succeeded in making the book interesting. If and when I get around to buying a copy, I will look forward to comparing your notes to mine.

One general impression I get from reading your thoughtful post is that Hopps' interpretations seem to be merely comprehensive, thoroughly documented presentations of ideas that were always plainly visible on the surface of Morrissey's art and/or put forward explicitly by Morrissey himself. Your entire last paragraph distills twenty-five years of comments Morrissey has made to the press, most in the first year or two of The Smiths' existence. What Hopps seems to have done, and done well, is put forward total interpretations of Morrissey's songs, which is something rarely done in pop criticism. An example is Hopps' apparently serious attempt to explain the meaning of Morrissey's "yodeling" at the end of "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side". It's really a question of insisting, as a critic, on making sense of all the materials in hand, not just the straightforward unpacking of the music and lyrics. You certainly need to take that approach with Morrissey.

The reasons I'm still lukewarm about seeking out Hopps' book are, one, as I said above, his criticism-- which, admittedly, I know only thanks to your review-- is made up of "300 pages of hard labor" that merely restate in concrete academic terms what the music and the interviews have been saying in far shorter and far more entertaining terms from the very beginning. I suspect most fans will read key passages and say, "Oh, so that's the lit-crit word for what he did in this song", not "Oh, I hadn't noticed that!"

The other reason I'm a little skeptical is that, as you astutely note, the strength of Hopps' method is also its weakness, and from the sound of it I'm guessing the weaknesses would outweigh the strengths. When a critical light is shined on pop songs the way Hopps seems to do, you quickly realize that the overarching claim of the book, Morrissey's genius, is rather pathetically reduced. Though each follows or departs from a more or less fixed set of rules and conventions, pop music lacks the capacity for uniquely individual expression that poetry or fiction allow. An exegesis of a pop star's body of work isn't the same as one about, say, a poet like Yeats. The former necessarily shades into an exegesis about pop music as a genre and often becomes identical to it, whereas even after one discusses the ways in which Yeats' poetry interacts with the tradition-- its status as a single cell within the corpus of capital 'P' Poetry-- there is still an immense amount of material native only to Yeats' imagination. Certainly Morrissey brings an individuality to pop that few others do, but he's much more tightly bound to pop music itself than were the writers to whom Hopps compares him. "Ambivalence", "mobility between identities", "haunted spaces", "spark of the divine": one could just as easily write an interesting 300 page book about Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, or Miley Cyrus exploring these themes while introducing still others.

But of course I know nothing, not having read the book. Your review has brought me a lot closer to doing so. :)
 
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I'm very interested in a critique that goes beyond the dumbed down "what can we deduce about Morrissey's private life from this song/album" that seems to be the way most critics approach his work. And it's about time a critic paid attention to his singing as well as his lyrics. It's astonishing to me that so few music critics even mention anything about his singing.You'd think he just spoke the words over a few guitars.

Will be getting it once the price has gone down a bit. :)
 
One general impression I get from reading your thoughtful post is that Hopps' interpretations seem to be merely comprehensive, thoroughly documented presentations of ideas that were always plainly visible on the surface of Morrissey's art and/or put forward explicitly by Morrissey himself. Your entire last paragraph distills twenty-five years of comments Morrissey has made to the press, most in the first year or two of The Smiths' existence. What Hopps seems to have done, and done well, is put forward total interpretations of Morrissey's songs, which is something rarely done in pop criticism. An example is Hopps' apparently serious attempt to explain the meaning of Morrissey's "yodeling" at the end of "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side". It's really a question of insisting, as a critic, on making sense of all the materials in hand, not just the straightforward unpacking of the music and lyrics. You certainly need to take that approach with Morrissey.

And beyond that, it's a question of allowing Morrissey's work to speak, without prematurely cramming it into all sorts of contexts that pre-define the meanings it is possible for it to have.

The reasons I'm still lukewarm about seeking out Hopps' book are, one, as I said above, his criticism-- which, admittedly, I know only thanks to your review-- is made up of "300 pages of hard labor" that merely restate in concrete academic terms what the music and the interviews have been saying in far shorter and far more entertaining terms from the very beginning. I suspect most fans will read key passages and say, "Oh, so that's the lit-crit word for what he did in this song", not "Oh, I hadn't noticed that!"

Well, that's hard to say. For me at least, there was no shortage of things that went well beyond mere recognition (but I am nowhere near as well-read on Morrissey literature as you seem to be). In many other cases, the analysis dealt with things I had sensed or strayed towards, but not neccessarily articulated very clearly, which is always useful. "300 pages of hard labor" was perhaps a little bit tongue-in-cheek. I read the book in maybe 4-5 sittings over 3-4 days, it didn't struggle to keep my attention. Judging from the sort of literature you've referenced before, I shouldn't think you'd find the work excessively hard. :)



The other reason I'm a little skeptical is that, as you astutely note, the strength of Hopps' method is also its weakness, and from the sound of it I'm guessing the weaknesses would outweigh the strengths.

Not really no, at least not for me. There weren't very many cases where I found the analysis contrived.

When a critical light is shined on pop songs the way Hopps seems to do, you quickly realize that the overarching claim of the book, Morrissey's genius, is rather pathetically reduced.

No, I don't think that is the case. The book is not really "critical", in the sense that it does not concern itself with identifying any weaknesses in Morrissey's work, nor even with making any qualitative distinctions between different parts of his work. It implicitly treats all of it as equally important. He consistently sticks to looking for meaning and wholly omits any pretension to make qualitative judgments, as far as I can see (except of course the axiomatic and underlying assumption that his work represents some form of great art - in fact, the book could well be construed as one long answer to the question "what is it that makes Morrissey's work great art?", though Hopps would no doubt scoff at the term "great art".).

Though each follows or departs from a more or less fixed set of rules and conventions, pop music lacks the capacity for uniquely individual expression that poetry or fiction allow. An exegesis of a pop star's body of work isn't the same as one about, say, a poet like Yeats. The former necessarily shades into an exegesis about pop music as a genre and often becomes identical to it, whereas even after one discusses the ways in which Yeats' poetry interacts with the tradition-- its status as a single cell within the corpus of capital 'P' Poetry-- there is still an immense amount of material native only to Yeats' imagination. Certainly Morrissey brings an individuality to pop that few others do, but he's much more tightly bound to pop music itself than were the writers to whom Hopps compares him.

Well, in a sense the whole book constitutes a fundamental rejection of that perspective. :) Hopps clearly assumes that a pop star's work can be analysed in essentially the same way as poetry, except in requiring a somewhat broader sweep to include performance, visuals, singing and music. There is not the slightest attempt at placing him as a figure within pop music, other than a perfunctory and brief juxtaposition with the happy materialism of 80s pop music (with Wham's Club Tropicana serving as the counterpoint). There's nothing about musical influences, nothing about his influence on music, no rock history meta-narrative at all. Also, there is no biographical dimension in the book, which simply ignores "Morrissey the person" though it pays much attention to "Morrissey the persona". He does quote Morrissey quite a lot, but always statements that relate to the points he is making about his work. There is no chronology, no attempt at seeing his career as an evolving process, no focus on crucial events such as the break-up of The Smiths - instead he treats his work as a single and essentially unchanging entity, the narrative moving from one aspect of it to another, frequently drawing on both early and late lyrics/music/performances to illuminate a given aspect or point.

Of course, all of the things you point out are important aspects of Morrissey, and things you'd like to read about. But I nonetheless think that their absence from Hopps' work makes the book more rather than less interesting. The reason for this is that it assumes that there is a core of human and artistic meaning to Morrissey's work that is not reducible to his situatedness within pop music, and does not essentially depend on the context of rock history. Which I think is both true, important and under-explored. Clearly this means that Hopps' is never going to be the definitive, stand-alone masterpiece about Morrissey, but instead it is arguably something rather more useful, namely a study that focus solely on whatever meaning and significance can be teased out of the work itself, beyond biography and beyond a usual rock meta-narrative that does often tend to be rather over-determining in much writing. In a way, it implicitly asks, what is still there to find if you peel away the whole pop star context with the myriads of interpretative perspectives that that in itself enforces, as well as biography?

In a way I guess you could compare it to, say, Dante and scholastic theology. The latter is an obvious and inescapable context for the Divine Comedy, which no full treatment of Dante's work can ignore. But, art is never wholly reducible to context and ultimately the reasons why Dante is still read mostly isn't that we're interested in theology. Clearly there are other things present in his work, and the problem with a dominant context is that it tends to analytically obstruct these things. Hence, some of the most useful and interesting studies you read are the ones who consciously ignore the usual dominant context and approach the body of work from a different angle.

"Ambivalence", "mobility between identities", "haunted spaces", "spark of the divine": one could just as easily write an interesting 300 page book about Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, or Miley Cyrus exploring these themes while introducing still others.

There I'd refer back to the point I made at the beginning of my review, namely that the value of such a study ultimately depends on its ability to make points that are not merely methodologically viable, but who also appear reasonable and worth making. I'm sure you could analyse out the spark of the divine in Bon Jovi, but I doubt the analysis would seem very convincing. But more generally, by all means, such treatement is often possible. For instance, Dylan's and Cohen's lyrics have been the subjects of quite a few theses in philosophy and literature. I even know someone who knows someone who got his degree on a thesis about the guitar solos on Television's Marquee Moon, and it wasn't in Music.

But of course I know nothing, not having read the book. Your review has brought me a lot closer to doing so. :)

I'm glad to hear it, that's a compliment worth getting. :)


cheers
 
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So, nothing about Julia then?
 
It's practically unreadable, a pretentious load of old bollocks, reading it is like a mixture of being in historys dullest ever school lesson, having a root canal treatment and watching the good old days and going 'oooh' when Leonard whatisname says loads of big words and bangs his hammer down just before Barbara Windsor comes on pretending to be Marie Lloyd. I wouldn't have thought it possible to make Morrissey and his work sound deathly dull but he's definitely managed it.
 
Hopps clearly assumes that a pop star's work can be analysed in essentially the same way as poetry, except in requiring a somewhat broader sweep to include performance, visuals, singing and music. There is not the slightest attempt at placing him as a figure within pop music, other than a perfunctory and brief juxtaposition with the happy materialism of 80s pop music (with Wham's Club Tropicana serving as the counterpoint).

Wham! served as a handy counterpoint to many things, didn't they. :rolleyes:

Hopps may not have placed Morrissey in a certain spot in musical history, but in my post I was referring to the fact that if Hopps wants to write about things like Morrissey's singing in relation to the guitar, bass, and drums, interpret not only his lyrics but his sighs, moans, and silences, talk about "mobility of identities" and so on and so forth, he's really talking about qualities shared by most pop artists, not just Morrissey. It's kind of like saying, "I'm going to describe my friend Max for you. He's totally unique. He's loyal, faithful, playful, likes a good game of catch, stands about two-feet high, has four paws, a tail, enjoys sniffing his own ass, and has the most wonderful shaggy coat of fur".

Your explanation actually makes me sorry I deleted one last remark in my post, which is that Morrissey's music ought to be interpreted as if Morrissey were himself a critic of pop music, as if each of his songs was in one sense a song as such and in another a critical essay on pop. I know that sounds terribly stuffy and boring and I'd never bring that up in a pub, but we're talking about a 300-page excursion into academia. Plus I can always play the trump card, which is that Morrissey is simply adopting the role of (wait for it) the critic as artist. :)

a study that focus solely on whatever meaning and significance can be teased out of the work itself, beyond biography and beyond a usual rock meta-narrative that does often tend to be rather over-determining in much writing. In a way, it implicitly asks, what is still there to find if you peel away the whole pop star context with the myriads of interpretative perspectives that that in itself enforces, as well as biography?

You have successfully articulated once again why Hopps' book is worthwhile, but again I have to take issue with Hopps' notion that such a reading of Morrissey's work is possible. I think you do have to situate Morrissey within the larger context of pop music, and you also have to account for his collaborations with musicians and producers. Peeling away his outer layers is fine, I'm just not sure it's clear to Hopps what those layers are. As much as I adore and respect Morrissey as an artist, I concede that his presence as a pop artist, including even his live performances, is stained by the medium, his collaborators, the transmission, and with many other colors. When I read "The Lost Symbol", I am essentially reading the same words that Dan Brown typed into his Macintosh. Other factors intervene and crowd the scene, sure, but much less so in Dan Brown's case than in Morrissey's.

Let me put it this way: I'm wary of any take on Morrissey's music that couldn't explain why the Peel Session versions of (say) "This Charming Man" and "What Difference Does It Make?" are far superior to the studio versions. Does that make sense?

In a way I guess you could compare it to, say, Dante and scholastic theology. The latter is an obvious and inescapable context for the Divine Comedy, which no full treatment of Dante's work can ignore. But, art is never wholly reducible to context and ultimately the reasons why Dante is still read mostly isn't that we're interested in theology. Clearly there are other things present in his work, and the problem with a dominant context is that it tends to analytically obstruct these things. Hence, some of the most useful and interesting studies you read are the ones who consciously ignore the usual dominant context and approach the body of work from a different angle.

Hmm. You make a strong case, as always, but I'm not sure I agree. You're right that it's often useful to remove the dominant context in a work and see what the author, as an individual, brings to it. This is actually how I prefer to read books. However, as I've been saying, in the case of pop music it's not as easy as that. The context is too dominant, you could say; there's no easy way to separate that which is Morrissey and that which is conventional (or discernibly unconventional) in his music. In my opinion, to "get" Morrissey, you have to take him on as a commodified entity fully immersed in the marketplace and in the culture which spawned him. You would have to relate his songs to "Carry On" and the New York Dolls as readily as you would to Wilde and Beckett. You would have to understand that a single James Dean pretty-boy pout is as vitally important to Morrissey's art as feminism or poetry. You would have to understand that his funny little singles are pieces of junk-- "Trash"-- as surely as they are works of art. "The pageant of his bleeding heart" can flip, like a coin, into "Heartbreak Hotel".

To me Morrissey's genius is his instinct for theater, his use of pop iconography, and his flawless taste in just about everything (even when, as I've said in another thread, his taste is flawlessly bad). What all of these have in common is that, from the outside, they can be read as both superficial and-- simultaneously-- containing deeper layers of meaning. A critic can spend five pages explaining Morrissey's choice of a cover star-- say, Alain Delon-- when the irony is that Morrissey probably didn't think about it at all. He saw the photo in a book and jabbed it with his finger, announcing "This is it". That's what we call talent, baby. :rolleyes:

The key to "reading" Morrissey is from the Preface to "The Picture of Dorian Gray": "All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril". The greatest critical biography that will ever be written about Morrissey is the one already embodied in his own music. Mind, I wouldn't say this about most artists; if I'm resistant to critical biographies of Morrissey it's because he is one of the few artists who transcends them entirely. I'm more than ready to read Hopps' academic study of Michael Hutchence.

Sorry to be argumentative, I really ought to shut up and read the damn book. :)
 
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...Your explanation actually makes me sorry I deleted one last remark in my post, which is that Morrissey's music ought to be interpreted as if Morrissey were himself a critic of pop music, as if each of his songs was in one sense a song as such and in another a critical essay on pop. I know that sounds terribly stuffy and boring and I'd never bring that up in a pub, but we're talking about a 300-page excursion into academia. Plus I can always play the trump card, which is that Morrissey is simply adopting the role of (wait for it) the critic as artist. :) ...

... A critic can spend five pages explaining Morrissey's choice of a cover star-- say, Alain Delon-- when the irony is that Morrissey probably didn't think about it at all. He saw the photo in a book and jabbed it with his finger, announcing "This is it". That's what we call talent, baby. :rolleyes:

Oscar Wilde described criticism in his day: "mediocrity weighing mediocrity in the balance, and incompetence applauding its brother". There's probably still a lot of that about, at the expense of style and standard.

Obviously some of Morrissey's songs are critical of the pop music industry and modern times; it'd be difficult to prove the same for most of his oeuvre. On the other hand, if there's one thing widely associated with his public persona, it's his readiness to criticise.

Yet it seems that Morrissey also appreciates a warm reception, and is as ready to criticise critics as anything else (from the liner notes/diaries of the re-issued Southpaw Grammer:

"...Why not simply stay at home and criticise others for doing? For doing something that you yourself have not yet mastered? Yes, life would be so much easier.

A recording is a demarcation of one's own being: look, there it is, I can point ot it - THAT was my 1995, and no other explanation is necessary. In order to record is it necessary to find yourself to be excessively fascinating? No. The opposite of that luxury is often how you feel.

Assessment depends upon the ear of the beholder. We are taught doubt and attack so assiduously that these reactions trigger faster than thoughts of love and support. Our answers are formatted to a permanent state of judgement - or, at most civil, the comparison game. It is the critics' calling to make something wrong. I am sustained only by the knowledge that skeptics never seem to know anything..." (Thank you, Morrissey! :lbf:) :)
 
Oscar Wilde described criticism in his day: "mediocrity weighing mediocrity in the balance, and incompetence applauding its brother". There's probably still a lot of that about, at the expense of style and standard.

Obviously some of Morrissey's songs are critical of the pop music industry and modern times; it'd be difficult to prove the same for most of his oeuvre. On the other hand, if there's one thing widely associated with his public persona, it's his readiness to criticise.

Yet it seems that Morrissey also appreciates a warm reception, and is as ready to criticise critics as anything else (from the liner notes/diaries of the re-issued Southpaw Grammer:

"...Why not simply stay at home and criticise others for doing? For doing something that you yourself have not yet mastered? Yes, life would be so much easier.

A recording is a demarcation of one's own being: look, there it is, I can point ot it - THAT was my 1995, and no other explanation is necessary. In order to record is it necessary to find yourself to be excessively fascinating? No. The opposite of that luxury is often how you feel.

Assessment depends upon the ear of the beholder. We are taught doubt and attack so assiduously that these reactions trigger faster than thoughts of love and support. Our answers are formatted to a permanent state of judgement - or, at most civil, the comparison game. It is the critics' calling to make something wrong. I am sustained only by the knowledge that skeptics never seem to know anything..." (Thank you, Morrissey! :lbf:) :)

Haha! A wonderful quote from Morrissey. :)

I think maybe I wasn't clear, though. Perhaps my post was half-baked, which wouldn't shock anyone.

What I meant was that he was a "critic" in the sense that his art is itself an act of 'criticism', not in the sense of opining about whether another work of art is good or bad but using the medium to react against and comment on existing forms. When you listen to a lot of his music you get the impression that the songs exist both as pop songs and as commentaries about other pop songs, or about the medium itself. The celebrated verse/chorus structure of "William, It Was Really Nothing", the 50s car crash/teen death theme in "Girlfriend In A Coma", the 'homage' to T. Rex in "Certain People I Know", or more obviously the lyrics of "Rubber Ring", would be examples of songs that get you thinking about other songs. Morrissey is keenly aware of the history of pop music and it comes through in a lot of his music, whether he's tweaking or honoring generic conventions, or just filling his songs with allusions to other works of art. This kind of aesthetic is maybe easier to see in films which riff on other films, such as those of Jean-Luc Godard or Quentin Tarantino, and as I hinted above you can follow it back to Oscar Wilde.

I dunno. Maybe it's an obscure point.
 
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Haha! A wonderful quote from Morrissey. :)

I think maybe I wasn't clear, though. Perhaps my post was half-baked, which wouldn't shock anyone.

What I meant was that he was a "critic" in the sense that his art is itself an act of 'criticism', not in the sense of opining about whether another work of art is good or bad but using the medium to react against and comment on existing forms. When you listen to a lot of his music you get the impression that the songs exist both as pop songs and as commentaries about other pop songs, or about the medium itself. The celebrated verse/chorus structure of "William, It Was Really Nothing", the 50s car crash/teen death theme in "Girlfriend In A Coma", the 'homage' to T. Rex in "Certain People I Know", or more obviously the lyrics of "Rubber Ring", would be examples of songs that get you thinking about other songs. Morrissey is keenly aware of the history of pop music and it comes through in a lot of his music, whether he's tweaking or honoring generic conventions, or just filling his songs with allusions to other works of art. This kind of aesthetic is maybe easier to see in films which riff on other films, such as those of Jean-Luc Godard or Quentin Tarantino, and as I hinted above you can follow it back to Oscar Wilde.

I dunno. Maybe it's an obscure point.

No argument there. Even his album titles could be construed as reactionary. I think his many influences have been mentioned but not in such an indepth and culturally-sensitive manner as you suggest. All in the fullness of time, no doubt :popcorn: :)
 
Haha! A wonderful quote from Morrissey. :)

I think maybe I wasn't clear, though. Perhaps my post was half-baked, which wouldn't shock anyone.

What I meant was that he was a "critic" in the sense that his art is itself an act of 'criticism', not in the sense of opining about whether another work of art is good or bad but using the medium to react against and comment on existing forms. When you listen to a lot of his music you get the impression that the songs exist both as pop songs and as commentaries about other pop songs, or about the medium itself. The celebrated verse/chorus structure of "William, It Was Really Nothing", the 50s car crash/teen death theme in "Girlfriend In A Coma", the 'homage' to T. Rex in "Certain People I Know", or more obviously the lyrics of "Rubber Ring", would be examples of songs that get you thinking about other songs. Morrissey is keenly aware of the history of pop music and it comes through in a lot of his music, whether he's tweaking or honoring generic conventions, or just filling his songs with allusions to other works of art. This kind of aesthetic is maybe easier to see in films which riff on other films, such as those of Jean-Luc Godard or Quentin Tarantino, and as I hinted above you can follow it back to Oscar Wilde.

I dunno. Maybe it's an obscure point.

On the contrary, it just points out something that has been a staple ingredient of all art since the dawn of culture - the referencing in some way of other works of art as part of its generation of meaning.

cheers
 
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Sorry to be argumentative, I really ought to shut up and read the damn book.

You really ought to read the damn book, but please feel free not to shut up in the mean time. As usual the discussion they generate is productive in the most welcome way. :)

Hopps may not have placed Morrissey in a certain spot in musical history, but in my post I was referring to the fact that if Hopps wants to write about things like Morrissey's singing in relation to the guitar, bass, and drums, interpret not only his lyrics but his sighs, moans, and silences, talk about "mobility of identities" and so on and so forth, he's really talking about qualities shared by most pop artists, not just Morrissey.

Sure, but why is that a problem? You could say the same for practically any aspect of the work of any writer, artist, film-maker or architect. Those are the things in which art consist, or at least becomes visible - and they produce meaning primarily when seen in relation to the other aspects of which a given a body of work consist.

Your explanation actually makes me sorry I deleted one last remark in my post, which is that Morrissey's music ought to be interpreted as if Morrissey were himself a critic of pop music, as if each of his songs was in one sense a song as such and in another a critical essay on pop.

I'm going to answer that by a rethorical question, namely "why?". By which I mean that this is certainly one way of analysing Morrissey's music and it may be the one you prefer for some reason or other, but I do not think any satisfactory argument can be given for why this is intrinsically the only or best way of approaching it. The same if of course true of Hopps' approach, but then, the point is not that his is the way of approaching Morrissey, just that it is a way.

Plus I can always play the trump card, which is that Morrissey is simply adopting the role of (wait for it) the critic as artist. :)

:) Well, to trump the trump, how do you know? Did you ask him? If so, are you sure you can trust the answer to be a straight and exhaustive one? ;)

More to the point, you don't have to know in order make that interpretation, but you have to know if you want to argue that any interpretation that does not approach his work in this way is as a result to some extent deficient.

You have successfully articulated once again why Hopps' book is worthwhile, but again I have to take issue with Hopps' notion that such a reading of Morrissey's work is possible. I think you do have to situate Morrissey within the larger context of pop music, and you also have to account for his collaborations with musicians and producers....As much as I adore and respect Morrissey as an artist, I concede that his presence as a pop artist, including even his live performances, is stained by the medium, his collaborators, the transmission, and with many other colors. When I read "The Lost Symbol", I am essentially reading the same words that Dan Brown typed into his Macintosh. Other factors intervene and crowd the scene, sure, but much less so in Dan Brown's case than in Morrissey's.

Ultimately I don't actually agree with this. The complexity of context point is well taken as it relates to literature, but what about theatre, or film, or architecture?
The main point however is this. This is a mode of anlaysis that is not about the artist, but about the art. It's not about his project largely conceived, it's not about his wider significance within his genre, it's not about the how's and where's and when's, all of which is really only possible to the extent that you can hunt down intentionality or reduce things to facts. That kind of analysis is fine, and neccessary, and potentially valuable, and often possible - but it perforce either has to conflate the meaning of the art with its context to a very large degree, and/or accept severe limitations in interpretative perspectives - you would end up in a situation where you are essentially trying to figure out what Morrissey means to say or achieve. Or, you end up writing essentially a book about pop music more than a book about Morrissey.

What on the other hand Hopps type of analysis is doing is treating Morrissey's work from the angle from which it mainly matters to most, which is not his place in pop music but what occurs in the meeting between one's own consciousness and Morrissey's music. In that sense, Morrissey's art doesn't belong to him any more than it belongs to me - whatever meaning it has to me (or to anyone) is primarily generated by what happens in my brain when I listen to his songs/watch his concerts etc etc. From that perspective, what Morrissey intended really does not matter, and what occurs does not really lose much significance even if I should be totally ignorant of pop music in general. What does remain as a fixed point of reference beyond my (or anyone's) subjective experience of it is not Morrissey the person, but the work itself - these exact words, these exact chords, these exact sung notes, these exact physical gestures made. And they (and not least, their interaction) are open to a kind of interpretation that spurns an often futile hunt for intentionality, and a kind of interpretation that is situated exactly at if not neccessarily the point that matters the most, then at least the point that is closest to why Morrissey matters, to me. Which I must admit is my personal experience of his music far more than any significance he has to pop music in general (though that too is of course highly interesting). I haven't read Simpson, but from his own description of his approach he shares a somewhat similar assumption, in that he drops the biographical detective work, and tries to reconstruct Morrissey at the level of the lyrics. I suppose the difference would be that Simpson does this in a rather straightforwardly subjective manner anchored in his own experience, while Hopps anchors his in some sort of methodology, which is usually an advantage.

But anyway - not everything has to be done by everyone. For the purposes of such a study as you seek, I would think a study like Hopps' represent a valuable input. But, he has to make the demaracations he does in order to be able to write a study of the kind he's undertaken, at all. There is no half-way point between what you are calling for and what he is doing.


Peeling away his outer layers is fine, I'm just not sure it's clear to Hopps what those layers are.

I would not say that's what he's doing. I'm sorry if I've implied that the book sort of tries to remove the superficial elements of Morrissey's work and get to their core, that's not it at all. I don't think Hopps' approach even acknowledges that there is any kind of distinction along such lines.

..............cont
 
Let me put it this way: I'm wary of any take on Morrissey's music that couldn't explain why the Peel Session versions of (say) "This Charming Man" and "What Difference Does It Make?" are far superior to the studio versions. Does that make sense?

Well yes, except that I don't see why there's any intrinsic problem with writing a study that does not attempt to sort out what is superior and what isn't within Morrissey's work. And again, how do you know, exactly? People do disagree about these things you know. :) I for one prefer the studio version of WDDIM, so it would be rather unclear what exactly the writer would be supposed to explain?

Hmm. You make a strong case, as always, but I'm not sure I agree. You're right that it's often useful to remove the dominant context in a work and see what the author, as an individual, brings to it.

Mmmm, that's not really the point though. The point is, what does the work of art say if you do not approach it as a reductive expression of something other than itself?


This is actually how I prefer to read books. However, as I've been saying, in the case of pop music it's not as easy as that. The context is too dominant, you could say; there's no easy way to separate that which is Morrissey and that which is conventional (or discernibly unconventional) in his music.

The point is, it doesn't matter, the distinction is superfluous as well as impossible. For all intents and purposes, "Morrissey" to me (or any other listener) is the thing that comes out of my speakers. Whatever influence his context has had on that, that is where that influence becomes apparent and is given expression, that is where I will experience it, and that is where any effect it has had counts. Well, that's putting it rather pointedly of course, but you see my point.

In my opinion, to "get" Morrissey, you have to take him on as a commodified entity fully immersed in the marketplace and in the culture which spawned him.

Why? Who is this Morrissey that I need to "get"? The Morrissey that primarily matters to me is, again, the one who comes out of my speakers. What I primarily need to get is what that Morrissey (who is an experience, not a person) is saying or otherwise expressing, how it affects me, and how, and why. Of course, I am not uninterested in the sort of context you are describing either, and knowledge about that in turn impacts on my reception. But it is not the most central thing, and certainly not something that is essentially required.


You would have to relate his songs to "Carry On" and the New York Dolls as readily as you would to Wilde and Beckett. You would have to understand that a single James Dean pretty-boy pout is as vitally important to Morrissey's art as feminism or poetry.

I'm going to be really nauseating and ask again, how do you know? :) Anyway, Hopps does not I think argue that Beckett is a more relevant context than James Dean, neccessarily.

You would have to understand that his funny little singles are pieces of junk-- "Trash"-- as surely as they are works of art. "The pageant of his bleeding heart" can flip, like a coin, into "Heartbreak Hotel".

Again, I may have given you a wrong impression. On the whole, what you describe above is not something that is absent from Hopps's book by any means.

Sorry, must rush, will finish later.

cheers
 
You really ought to read the damn book, but please feel free not to shut up in the mean time. As usual the discussion they generate is productive in the most welcome way. :)

Without rambling uninformed discussions this site wouldn't exist.

Or I wouldn't. :rolleyes:

Sure, but why is that a problem? You could say the same for practically any aspect of the work of any writer, artist, film-maker or architect.

You answered the question yourself: it's a problem because you can say the same about almost any pop singer. I'm exaggerating when I say this, of course-- I know Morrissey is better than the rest-- but it becomes more difficult to read a critical study that tries to take him seriously as an artist when some of the things said about him could also be said about pop singers we don't and shouldn't take seriously. It's like the recurring joke in "Twenty-Four Hour Party People" where Tony Wilson insists that Shaun Ryder is the most significant poet since Yeats. To me the humor in that joke, aside from Wilson's characteristic deadpan absurdity, lies in the impossibility of refuting him.

You put the matter very well by saying that Hopps focuses on "what occurs in the meeting between one's own consciousness and Morrissey's music". Couldn't we just as easily read 300-page academic books on the subject of the meeting between one's own consciousness and Lady GaGa's music, or Sting's, or Status Quo's? We could, but they wouldn't convince. My point is not that Morrissey shouldn't be treated seriously, only that this particular treatment-- which I really oughtta read some day soon-- begins to sound arbitrary to the point of meaningless. I thought what you wrote about the way Hopps explains the way he sings over Johnny's guitar in a contrapuntal fashion to be very interesting, but the thought immediately occurs to me that I could note the same (or similar) phenomenon if I were to listen closely to R.E.M., Jackson Brown, The Velvet Underground, Iron Maiden, Gang of Four, and so on.

Let me repeat: I'm hardly suggesting Morrissey is no better than these other groups. I'm exaggerating to illustrate my argument, which is simply that Hopps runs the risk of doing the reverse of what he intends, which is failing to differentiate Morrissey from his peers.

I'm going to answer that by a rethorical question, namely "why?".

In my opinion, by approaching Morrissey as a "critic", in the Wildean sense, the study would have the virtue of contextualizing Morrissey within pop music as a whole-- that's all I meant by that.

:) Well, to trump the trump, how do you know? Did you ask him? If so, are you sure you can trust the answer to be a straight and exhaustive one? ;)

Well, I don't know, Qvist. If I'm willing to debate a book I haven't read, what makes you think I know anything real about Morrissey? :lbf:

This is a mode of anlaysis that is not about the artist, but about the art. It's not about his project largely conceived ...

which is not his place in pop music but what occurs in the meeting between one's own consciousness and Morrissey's music.

I basically agree with your approach to interpreting Morrissey's work. I don't really care about the ways in which Morrissey is like other singers, I want to think about why he's different and superior-- why I think he's a great artist. And when I do that, sure, I zero in on the bits that affect me deeply and directly, not just the ones that differentiate him from other pop stars. I don't love "Cemetry Gates" because it's about plagiarism in art or that the music makes me think of folk music a little or that it's among the "Top 50 Songs of 1986!" I love it because it speaks to me in a very personal way. I gather this is how you try and think about Morrissey's songs, too. We're fans, not critics (and even paid critics should always be fans first and professional explainers second).

Now, Hopps is just such a paid critic. He has to walk the minefield. He has to go beyond his personal contact with the music and try and explain just what it is about Morrissey's art that's so affecting for so many people. As you say, he has to focus on these words, these gestures, these song structures, etc.

I notice in reading your eloquent paragraph on this subject that you speak of "Morrissey's art" in the same way that one speaks of "Picasso's art", for instance. I don't believe you can do that in the case of any pop singer, least of all Morrissey. This was the reason I mentioned the BBC sessions of The Smiths' early singles. (You could use any of his live versions, like "Rank" or "Beethoven Was Deaf", too.) Now, setting aside the obvious fact that Morrissey's vocals fluctuate from performance to performance-- his throat is hoarse one day, he's in a chipper mood, he's drunk, he's inside a studio, whatever-- his lyrics and delivery are more or less constant.

What's different are the non-Morrissey elements: the playing of his backing band; the venue, the way the songs are produced, the audience (in the case of a live show), the mode of transmission, the date of release, other music that may be in the charts; and any of a host of other little factors that might figure in. It becomes extremely difficult to extract "Morrissey's art" from that mix of ingredients, don't you think? Much more difficult to do than, say, extracting "Yeats' art" from the varying editions of his poems, or the venues in which they are encountered, and other factors. So much in each song is contingent on things outside Morrissey, which is why I stubbornly cling to the notion that any study that underplays these contingencies is bound to be lacking.

Whether or not Hopps' study does this, I admit I don't know.

Regarding Morrissey's intentions: this gets to the statement I made about its simultaneously deep/shallow qualities. Morrissey's intentions are often opaque, which is why his impeccable taste-- his capacity to make just the right choice of lyric, vocal phrasing, tour backdrop, turn of phrase on a postcard-- is both profoundly impressive and almost impossible to explain in a scholarly way. Can anyone explain why he tilted the photo of Elvis Presley on the cover of "Shoplifters Of The World Unite", or Billy Fury on "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me"? Not one in a million graphic designers would have given the cover such a weird little touch. The tilting might mean something. It might not. It might have been the result of a funny mood he was in. Maybe he was making a sly comment about how photos can be misleading, since the facial expression seems to change markedly; how icons can shift in front of our very eyes (go ahead, flip the cover of "Shoplifters" a few times-- it's barely the same picture of Elvis).

Hence, any interpretation of Morrissey that doesn't have the dexterity to say he's channeling Beckett and merely quoting a favorite line from a "Carry On" film in the same line doesn't even remotely get to the essence of Morrissey's art. Again, if Hopps' study does that, then my reservations about the book will melt, melt, melt away.

not everything has to be done by everyone.

Couldn't agree more. I like having numerous different kinds of books about Morrissey and The Smiths, actually. There isn't a single book I like more than the others, just as I don't think there's one definitive Smiths/Morrissey website but three or four that provide complementary resources.

But as you can tell, I obviously have some strong feelings about the sort of book Hopps has attempted. Why? Well, in brief, I think "serious" studies like this usually amount to an attempt to justify a pop artist as a "real artist" by making lots of dubious claims about said pop artist's affinities with Real Official Art. I think it's done with a bad conscience and I don't like it. Let me be clear: I don't mind if a critic says "Morrissey is cut from the same cloth as Shakespeare" so long as he quickly adds, "Of course, he's also cut from the same cloth as Rick Astley".
 
"Morrissey" to me (or any other listener) is the thing that comes out of my speakers. Whatever influence his context has had on that, that is where that influence becomes apparent and is given expression, that is where I will experience it, and that is where any effect it has had counts. Well, that's putting it rather pointedly of course, but you see my point.

I do see your point, which is why I need to ask, what's the benefit of reading Hopps' book? Perhaps I am not understanding you, but you seem to be saying that the reason you liked the book is that Hopps did a good job describing what you hear when the songs come out of your speakers-- in your home, your private space. I really don't understand how Hopps can accomplish this without relying on criticism that comes from well beyond your private sphere, but this is perhaps the point I am missing and would comprehend if, you know-- if I read the book. :o

I'm going to be really nauseating and ask again, how do you know? :)

Because I listen to what comes through my speakers. :rolleyes:

Anyway, Hopps does not I think argue that Beckett is a more relevant context than James Dean, neccessarily.

Come now. "Gavin Hopps is Research Councils' UK Academic Fellow in the School of Divinity, specialising in the relationship between literature and theology, with particular interests in Romantic writing. He has been Lecturer in English at the universities of Aachen, Oxford, and Canterbury Christ Church, and a Visiting Fellow at the University of Cambridge". Amazon tells me the book "argues convincingly for Morrissey's inclusion in the pantheon of literary greats" including "Lord Byron, Mary Shelley, George Eliot, Christina Rossetti, Oscar Wilde, Samuel Beckett, Paul Celan and Philip Larkin".

In the discussion of what sort of artist Morrissey is, which names do you think are going to resonate in the reader's mind? Who will put down the book and associate Morrissey with, George Gordon or George Formby? :)

Do you realize how much praise and respect Morrissey has gotten just by namechecking Oscar Wilde a few times and being photographed in a music weekly holding one of his paperbacks?

Anyway let's not get too far afield. I hereby throw up my hands and re-state the obvious: I admit I have no business discussing a book I haven't read. I was trying to make some general comments about music criticism which I hope were received in a friendly way. I think your intention was to turn us on to a good book, and you've done that. I'll give it a chance. I probably wasn't going to before.

And even if I do end up liking it, I will never waver in my conviction that Hopps chose the absolute worst title in the history of criticism, bar none.
 
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...But as you can tell, I obviously have some strong feelings about the sort of book Hopps has attempted. Why? Well, in brief, I think "serious" studies like this usually amount to an attempt to justify a pop artist as a "real artist" by making lots of dubious claims about said pop artist's affinities with Real Official Art. I think it's done with a bad conscience and I don't like it. Let me be clear: I don't mind if a critic says "Morrissey is cut from the same cloth as Shakespeare" so long as he quickly adds, "Of course, he's also cut from the same cloth as Rick Astley".

If you will permit me to tangentally ramble a moment, a poem I'd cut out of the Irish Times on 25th April was sent Morrissey's way after his concert in Killarney this year. I can't remember the name of it or of the author, but it portrayed the discovery of an important writer's reading preferences, shortly after their death, which ranged from trashy comics to profound philosophical literature. I immediately felt that Morrissey would be able to relate to the infinite range in taste of the character. I doubt Hopps would contest this.

The other detour wanders back to Oscar Wilde and Dorian Grey, and how, when I was searching for previous discussions in that context on this site, I found, besides your informative response, one other interesting comment. It was observed that, in all the references to Grey's escapades in dens of unspeakable debauchary, after which other participants often ended up socially ruined, what he actually did was never outlined. Therefore, the poster theorised that Wilde may have been suggesting that it was in adhering to a compulsively secretive lifestyle wherein his chief evil lay. Hopps appears to have identified in Morrissey the skill of hinting at a reality without saying so in words as well, according to some readers.

That's it. Pray carry on! ;)
 
If you will permit me to tangentally ramble a moment, a poem I'd cut out of the Irish Times on 25th April was sent Morrissey's way after his concert in Killarney this year. I can't remember the name of it or of the author, but it portrayed the discovery of an important writer's reading preferences, shortly after their death, which ranged from trashy comics to profound philosophical literature. I immediately felt that Morrissey would be able to relate to the infinite range in taste of the character. I doubt Hopps would contest this.

I don't think Hopps would contest it, either. In fact I know he wouldn't. Would he be able to explain how Morrissey's art reflected both the high and low, trashy and profound, usually at the very same time? If so I shall send him a basket of bananas.

The other detour wanders back to Oscar Wilde and Dorian Grey, and how, when I was searching for previous discussions in that context on this site, I found, besides your informative response, one other interesting comment. It was observed that, in all the references to Grey's escapades in dens of unspeakable debauchary, after which other participants often ended up socially ruined, what he actually did was never outlined. Therefore, the poster theorised that Wilde may have been suggesting that it was in adhering to a compulsively secretive lifestyle wherein his chief evil lay. Hopps appears to have identified in Morrissey the skill of hinting at a reality without saying so in words as well, according to some readers.

Nor is the "poisonous book" that so deeply corrupted Dorian mentioned by name. The novel was published as a serial in Lippincott's first and as a standalone novel second, and inbetween Wilde revised many sections of the text and added chapters. Draft comparisons show that a good number of his changes and additions served to move the narrative away from concrete details toward moods and impressions, reflecting his debt to the Symbolists. He was going for something like prose-poetry, which resulted in many of his notorious purple passages.

Whatever it was he was nudging out of the spotlight, the poster you mention may have been correct in saying that Wilde wanted to depict Dorian's sin as one of concealment and secrecy rather than any specific vice. As he wrote in "De Profundis", whatever occurs in the privacy of the bedroom must one day be shouted over the rooftops of the world (I'm paraphrasing, as I don't have my copy with me). His great realization following his imprisonment was a fuller understanding of sorrow, and in particular how a man must embrace both joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, to be truly spiritual. In his trial he said his philosophy was self-realization, and to realize oneself through pleasure was far better than to do so through pain; in his final years he concluded that self-realization was impossible without both.

Similarly, Morrissey could be said to have attempted to convince the public of exactly the same thing. Self-realization is the goal, but to realize oneself through Wham! and The Smiths is far better than to do so through either Wham! or The Smiths alone. He would have agreed that "the supreme vice is shallowness", and followed the post-incarceration Wilde in wishing to take all the ugly portraits down from the attic to display in the thoroughfare. And like Wilde he'd have hauled out the ugly portraits in clothes that cost more than most of us make in a year. :)
 
I don't think Hopps would contest it, either. In fact I know he wouldn't. Would he be able to explain how Morrissey's art reflected both the high and low, trashy and profound, usually at the very same time? If so I shall send him a basket of bananas.



Nor is the "poisonous book" that so deeply corrupted Dorian mentioned by name. The novel was published as a serial in Lippincott's first and as a standalone novel second, and inbetween Wilde revised many sections of the text and added chapters. Draft comparisons show that a good number of his changes and additions served to move the narrative away from concrete details toward moods and impressions, reflecting his debt to the Symbolists. He was going for something like prose-poetry, which resulted in many of his notorious purple passages.

Whatever it was he was nudging out of the spotlight, the poster you mention may have been correct in saying that Wilde wanted to depict Dorian's sin as one of concealment and secrecy rather than any specific vice. As he wrote in "De Profundis", whatever occurs in the privacy of the bedroom must one day be shouted over the rooftops of the world (I'm paraphrasing, as I don't have my copy with me). His great realization following his imprisonment was a fuller understanding of sorrow, and in particular how a man must embrace both joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, to be truly spiritual. In his trial he said his philosophy was self-realization, and to realize oneself through pleasure was far better than to do so through pain; in his final years he concluded that self-realization was impossible without both.

Similarly, Morrissey could be said to have attempted to convince the public of exactly the same thing. Self-realization is the goal, but to realize oneself through Wham! and The Smiths is far better than to do so through either Wham! or The Smiths alone. He would have agreed that "the supreme vice is shallowness", and followed the post-incarceration Wilde in wishing to take all the ugly portraits down from the attic to display in the thoroughfare. And like Wilde he'd have hauled out the ugly portraits in clothes that cost more than most of us make in a year. :)

:D I'd almost forgotten about the sustained mystery of the poisonous book. What are the theories about that? I'm not sure either what the 'purple periods' are; not the verbiose passages on jewels, perfumes and the like?

I agree that both Wilde and Morrissey encouraged self-realisation. I am dubious though that Wilde was more repentant after his prison stay, and not only because afterwards he devoted his life to the noble cause of the illicit love that dares not speak its name. I do not honestly understand what he really wanted, what he was trying to prove if anything. I suspect that the people he associated with later were perhaps the most reviled in society. I feel that before his trial, he was more good-hearted than credited, and that talk about his prison conversion, even when suggested by himself via the ballad (a form he'd previously deplored), was more to appease others than a retreat. Some other earlier stories demonstrate his awareness of widespread sorrow e.g. The Young King - http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/YouKin.shtml - and I think The Fisherman and His Soul is one of the most perfect stories ever on the human condition.

Shallowness is treading water, like denial. It's easy, but not in the long-term, and it disables problem-solving. Hopefully we'll hear more from the real Morrissey in 2010. :cool:
 
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