THE ABSENT

THE ABSENT
THE ABSENT - out now!

CRIPPLED HEARTS

CRIPPLED HEARTS
Out Now - For sale on Amazon and other onlne book sellers

SOLIDARITY WITH THE FLESH EATING MOSAIC AND OTHER POEMS by Raj Dronamraju

SOLIDARITY WITH THE FLESH EATING MOSAIC AND OTHER POEMS by Raj Dronamraju
Out Now

THE RETURN OF THE MAGNIFICENT NINNY AND OTHER POEMS by Raj Dronamraju

THE RETURN OF THE MAGNIFICENT NINNY AND OTHER POEMS by Raj Dronamraju
My first book of poetry available through Amazon and other online booksellers www.rajbooks.com

Tuesday, March 15, 2016

A FEW THOUGHTS ABOUT THE 28TH ANNIVERSARY OF VIVA HATE BY MORRISSEY


It's The 28th anniversary of Morrissey’s first solo album VIVA HATE.   

Not his best solo record but an excellent start to his career with no bad songs on it.  I remember it came out less than a year after The Smiths last album and break-up and immediately after that the music magazines were all saying Moz would be nothing without Johnny Marr who they said had a bright future ahead of him.  This was not the last time they would write premature eulogies for Moz’s career.

I also remember when this record came out and being happy because it was actually pretty good.  Producer/co-songwriter Stephen Street was a very good writing partner and sympathetic arranger for Moz framing his voice in a number of different situations.  Aside from the hits Suedehead and Everyday Is Like Sunday, I especially like voice and strings Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together, the epic Moz freakout Late Night, Maudlin Street (which introduced me to poet Elizabeth Smart whose verse Moz “borrows”), Booming Vini Reilly guitar showcase Alsatian Cousin and the weird little fragment Little Man, What Now?.  I can even ignore the casual racism of Bengali in Platforms (great tune nonetheless).  

However, my favorite tune and one of Moz’s greatest solo songs, for sure in my top five, is The Ordinary Boys.  Beautiful mournful tune with a brilliant piano part as an inspired Morrissey, his raw nerve pure expression voice here exactly tuned into what he wants to say, describes in painstaking detail the high school losers he grew up with.


Ordinary boys, happy knowing nothing
happy being no one, but themselves
Ordinary girls, supermarket clothes
who think it's very clever to be cruel to you
for you were so different
you stood all alone
and you knew
that it had to be so
avoiding ordinary boys
happy going nowhere, just around here
in their rattling cars
and ordinary girls
never seeing further
than the cold, small streets
that trap them
but you were so different
you had to say no
when those empty fools
tried to change you, and claim you
for the lair of their ordinary world
where they feel so lucky
so lucky, so lucky
with their lives laid out before them
they're so lucky, so lucky
so lucky, so lucky


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