Morrissey

What We Believe About Everything

Last week, the new Morrissey album, Make-Up Is A Lie, was released (or “dropped” as the kids may still say). It’s really, really awful. If you have been with me for more than one second, you know how much that pains me to say. But this isn’t a review.

I’m instead wondering about the head- (and heart-) space of an artist. 

When a good-to-great artist (in this case, a transcendent artist) completes and readies (what we consider) a subpar album for release, does he/she feel: 1. This is awesome, maybe the best material I’ve ever done. Now, of course, he/she might be wrong, or we are. 2. This may not be my best work, but it’s totally solid. At this point in my life/career, with much success, this is another excellent work. 3. This isn’t great, but the media/label/public pressure is heavy and something new needs to come out NOW. It might be fine. I hope it’s better than I fear. Or, I suppose there is a 4th: This is a stinker, but there are so many people out there who will buy it no matter what. Who cares about them? Money is money. 

The specific is this album, but the real question is, how do we see each other? What is in the soul of a human being? Are we ultimately lacking integrity and looking to use each other as means to our own selfish end? Or do we genuinely mean well, even if things don’t turn out the way we hope? Can we be trusted? Who are we? 

And, since I see most things through a spiritual prism, when a religious person or group uses Scripture to beat up another person, shame and ostracize them, when they use verses as excuse for violence and hate, is this because they are simply looking for an excuse for violence and hate? Or, at the point of inception, do they truly believe that they are doing God’s/god’s will? Is it from their authentic faithfulness that their actions flow? Or is it spiritual abuse and garden variety manipulation, the convenient means that justify their own ends? 

I know, it’s just an album, and maybe something so trivial shouldn’t have any connection to our deepest held values. Or maybe what we believe about one thing is what we believe about everything. Or maybe that’s how it should be. I’m not sure that this album matters at all, but I am absolutely certain our perspective of every human being matters, and maybe they’re related.

I think he thinks it’s great. Maybe it’s not The Queen Is Dead, but he’s not that guy anymore. He’s this one, and he believes Make-Up Is A Lie is an A+. He’s not a bad guy, not a schemer, not a thief, not a guy with bad character, he just happens to be wrong. I’m not out on the old stuff, or the next album (if we’re lucky enough to get another one). I still trust him, and still love him the same, and will still wake up early to listen to his new songs. 

I have the honor of walking with many people, in pretty close proximity, sometimes at the worst moments of their lives. And those people can say some awful things. They/We can be rude, dismissive, belittling, condescending, and just plain nasty, at times. When that happens – when they drop the interpersonal equivalent of Make-Up Is A Lie, what do we do with that? Are they/we simply the last thing (or the worst) we’ve done? I don’t think so. That person who hurt us, maybe they’re also not bad guys, or schemers, maybe they don’t have bad character…Maybe they’re hurting, or maybe they’re just human. Maybe they’re made in the image of God, wholly loved, just like we are.

Now that I think about it, they probably are related.

Christmas Presents

Last week, I went to a Morrissey concert in Atlantic City. Morrissey is a pop singer, and he’s been my favorite artist since I was around 13 years old and heard a song called “Ask.” (I’ll talk about the actual show on my lovewithacapitall.com blog, if you’re dying to know more.)

I went with my sister to the show, and her husband (who, inexplicably, HATES Morrissey) and the Angel also came for the evening in the city. We stayed in a fancy hotel with a perfect view of the ocean, ate too much of a great meal and way too much, several times, from an interesting cafe.

Then, home for last minute preparations for Operation Christmas Child shoebox Sunday. I made the soup and the cake, she made the artichoke dip, and we eased our tired bodies (we’re older now and need more rest than we used to) into bed.

Sunday morning, the Bridge packed the boxes we delivered to the drop point a day later, and hopefully we all ate too much of the community meal. Together.

This was a beautiful weekend, full of meaning and significance. But Morrissey was the least of it. That’s strange to write, because for so many years, I would’ve said he was the most important figure in my life, singing the songs that detailed my (our) emotions and gave me 1 person who, I believed, understood. I would’ve told you he saved my life on more than one occasion, and that might be true.

But during the show, I looked at my sister and hugged her and told her how much I loved her, how I didn’t want to be with anyone else but her. The songs were great, but this relationship was so much better, deeper, with mountains of history between us. Morrissey didn’t know me, our history was a one-way street. Those songs just gave us another extraordinary reason to share the time.

The 4 of us had dinner and breakfast. The Angel and I watched the sun set and rise in our hotel window and on the beach. He’s the best brother in the world, and she’s just the best person. I’d rather kiss her once and share one meal of noodles than watch all of the Morrissey shows ever.

So, yes, of course, Morrissey doesn’t know me, but neither do the boys and girls half a world away who will open our presents, and packing their presents with love and prayer with my family opened me in wonderful ways for which I can never prepare.

This is more of a bullet point narrative post than a long thoughtful essay, but the point is that while Morrissey may have saved my life, it was just to bring me to the place where my life could actually be saved and redeemed. When I fell in love with Jesus (10+ years after I fell in love with Morrissey), it began a lifetime of restructuring my values.

The first time I saw Morrissey, I left my friend at the door to run to the stage to be in the front row. That’s where my values were then, I now forgive the boy that did it, but it isn’t me now. Morrissey connects us. Without the connection, without the relationships, they’re simply chords and lyrics (which are still miles better than most things).

Now, I prefer dinner with my sister and her husband. I prefer holding the Angel’s hand and watching the waves roll in. I prefer shoeboxes and pumpkin pie. I even prefer making a cake for others.

And all of those preferences ooze down into every area of my life from the One with the position at the top. I am so grateful that Morrissey moves me, grateful that he means so much to me, because it paints a picture (however inadequate) and packs a shoebox full of the love, belonging and fulfillment of the One who opens my eyes and heart and changes everything.