You're a real jerk; you know that, Steven Patrick Morrissey?
I know you've heard that many times, especially from Texans in the past few months. After you canceled two concerts in D-FW last fall, it was impossible to not wonder if we had seen the last of you around here, so I'll admit I was glad 2016 didn't claim you as a victim the way it did so many of our greats. After all, Bowie, Haggard and Prince were clearly just mortals, not like you.
But it was a real jerk move to start your Dallas concert at the Majestic Theatre on Saturday night at 8:33 p.m., which was seemingly only a few minutes after the doors opened.
Many of us in the blocks-long line outside the venue missed the first couple of your songs, but at least you were actually present and playing them, so there's that.
But, dang it all to heck, Moz, once I got to my seat, it didn't take long for me to feel some guilt at daring to be mad at you. You were on stage being glorious and amazing and performing as though you hadn't carefully nurtured a well-earned reputation as a flaky diva for many years. You were here now, and you were allowing us see you in the flesh.
No, unless you did so during the first couple of songs I missed, you never acknowledged the canceled shows from last year, or even the show you cut short a few days ago in Tucson, or the one you canceled in San Antonio earlier in the week. I heard those shows were scratched because your voice was shot, but thanks to what surely was an Easter miracle, your voice sounded brilliant, but if I know you, you already knew how stellar you sounded.
As usual, your song selection was a fine one. Spanning your solo career and including a few key cuts from your days in the Smiths, this was a real crowd-pleaser type of set. Your band, including a couple of Texans, is indeed a killer unit of badasses. Perhaps it's the many days off (read: canceled dates) you seem to give them when on tour that helps them stay in rested, top-notch shape?
"When Last I Spoke to Carol" was a galloping joy, and "Ouija Board, Ouija Board" brandished a meaner, rock-driven edge than its classic recorded version. One of your more recent songs, "World Peace is None of Your Business," the title track from your last album, which I think you will agree with me, has been wholly underappreciated, offered lush orchestration and fit in nicely with your classics.
But you started preaching to us, your fiercely loyal choir. I think I can speak for those of us in attendance when I say that because we thirst for your sweat, we certainly want to hear your thoughts on how we should live our life as Americans. And you really bludgeoned us there for a bit, you know?
I hesitate to mention this, because I certainly require your guidance (who doesn't?), and it's not like you've ever kept your thoughts on an array of political and social issues quiet, so there's no shocker here.
Your little speech comparing Sean Spicer to some of the great "American comedies" such as All in the Family gave us some terribly on-point commentary. And the "[Expletive] Trump" T-shirts your band wore were as cute as they were insightful. You'd think more musicians would speak out against the new prez more, but thankfully, your singular bravery was on display.
The troubling footage of unspeakable police brutality that ran high above you during an electrically propulsive take on "Ganglord" was likely warranted, now that I think about it. And because we know how you become physically ill at the mere scent of barbecue smoke, it stands to reason you would show us terrifyingly graphic film clips documenting the slaughter of cows, chickens, fish and lambs during your elegant take on "Meat is Murder."
Your band really gave us an epic jam at the end of that tune, so I dutifully kept my vomit down. I owed you that much.
Again, I know this kind of thing isn't new for you, so I apologize for even bringing it up. I suppose it's pretty ungrateful of me to say these things, seeing as you actually performed a concert for us after only two cancellations last year.
You looked marvelous, sounded angelic and the show was at times thrilling. It felt like what a night of music should be in its most heavenly form. But no matter how much we love you, you can be a real jerk, Steven Patrick Morrissey.
