Morrissey 'The Last Of The Famous International Playboys'

Chart Peak: 6
YouTube

His 3rd solo single since leaving the Smiths... followed 'Suedehead' and 'Every Day Is Like Sunday' into the 10 making No. 6 in February 1989.

This could be interesting - last time I wrote about this chap on the blog I got my first and so far only DMCA takedown notice (for a post with no media content at all, just a link to the YouTube video). I've linked to an official EMI upload so fingers crossed.

Three Top 10 hits out of three for the solo Moz (which is more than the Smiths had managed in their entire career, though they did sneak a third Top 10 with a re-issued single in 1992), and three Now appearances out of three too - again, that's more than the Smiths but possibly explained by the fact that he was now signed to EMI. Or was it? Although he continued to add to his tally of Top 10 singles until as recently as 2006, he's never been back on a main-series Now album, perhaps he thinks he's too important for them. At least we can savour what we have though because at the risk of posting a spoiler for anything I might write about Now 11, these first three Morrissey singles represent a run of brilliance he hasn't come close to since. Continuing to write with Stephen Street, he also assembled a partial Smiths reunion for the backing group: no Johnny Marr of course, but rhythm section Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce and sometime rhythm guitarist Craig Gannon. Excellent playing of one of his most perceptive songs, which seems almost to anticipate the gangster chic trend of the 1990s, with its tale of a criminal idolising the Kray twins (both still alive in 1989 of course). Apparently not everyone at the time understood the satire (and I was ten years old when this came out, so I didn't even know what a playboy was, but I remembered the chorus) and some might find it ironic in the light of the hero-worship Morrissey himself sometimes garners, but at least his fans don't kill people.

And this is about as close as I think I've come to understanding a fan's love for the man. Obviously, it wasn't as modern as some of the rock tracks on this side, although the synthesiser solo (played by Street) is a surprise from Moz, much as it's more Ziggy Stardust than Paradise Garage. There may be a parallel universe where he carried on in this vein and at this level instead of falling out with people and descending into pointless arrogance. But like I said, let's savour what we have, at least as long as this post stays up.

Also appearing on: Now 11, 12
Available on: Brits In The 80s

M*rrissey 'Everyday Is Like Sunday'

Chart Peak: 9

YouTube

Two Now appearances from as many solo singles for the Mozzer there, and that's already more than the Smiths managed in their entire career. For good measure, this charted higher than any Smiths single had at the time, although a re-release of 'The Charming Man' finally peaked at 8 in 1992.

There are some songs I don't look forward to writing about because I don't want to to make myself listen to them. There are others I don't look forward to writing about because I doubt my ability to add anything to the sum of human knowledge about them, and this falls firmly into the latter category. What I can tell you is that I was obviously not particularly interested in this song when I was ten years old, but I do clearly remember my Dad taping the video from the telly (presumably the Chart Show) and seeing it quite a few times. In fact, the video probably made more impression on me at the time than the song, because it looks so different from just about any other pop video you would see back then: in 1988, even The Wedding Present were making videos that looked like this. It was probably one of the first times I saw a depiction of vegetarianism too, although I didn't take it up myself for another twenty years. Had I but realised, my younger self would probably have been quite impressed by all the people who are buying the single itself in the video.

Curiously, the disc label attributes the writing credit to M*rrissey; the music was of course written by Stephen Street, who also produces and plays bass. It's not entirely surprising that the relationship between M*rrissey and Street ended acrimoniously (and remains so: only a couple of weeks ago lawyers were called in to stop Street playing a demo track in a radio documentary. With this and the singles either side of it, though, it's a pity Street doesn't seem to have pursued his songwriting career any further. The other players on this single are Vini Reilly of the Durrutti Column on those fascinating ringing guitars, and drummer Andrew Paresi, who also used to do those Splicer's Disease sketches on Loose Ends. Between them they conjure exactly the gloomy atmosphere required by the lyric, and yet there's a certain beauty that stops this being purely depressing. Perhaps there's a tinge of affection in there too, and not only because a man who's made a career of being miserable can't afford to live in a world without misery.

Also appearing on: Now 11, 14
Available on: the internet, probably.