Escaping The Cult of Morrissey

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that Morrissey is a twat. The Great British institution Viz made this official years ago. It is the subject of a regular memo that is sent to everyone in Britain and around the world. I've received it too, just as often as everyone else. Whereas while others have nonchalantly filed theirs under ‘Things I already knew’, for about seven years I chose to ignore or reject mine. In my defense, it’s hard to discern the problems of a cult when you’re in it. And I don’t want to brag, but I know a thing or two about cults.

Discovering that someone or something you have relied on to be a source of infallible moral authority is not only fallible but actually immoral, is pretty life-changing. This is what happened to me when I was seventeen. At seventeen, I was coming to terms with my sexual orientation, studying philosophy, and developing my own political views. I was also a Mormon. 
Growing up, any research of the teachings of the LDS Church outside of scripture study and prayer was strictly discouraged. For a long time this was fine by me. Until I was seventeen that is. Suddenly, I was forced to actually examine everything I had been taught; and the only logical conclusion I could come to was that it was bullshit, some of it even dangerous.
It was during this time in my life that I found Morrissey. One day after college I walked into HMV and bought two CDs on a two for ten pounds offer; one was a Libertines album, the other: The Sound of The Smiths. Listening to The Smiths for the first time was as life-changing to me as my newfound atheism. From my little CD player came the strangest noise I had ever heard. I couldn't categorise it. I couldn't even understand it; and in fact, it took repeated listens until I was able understand what the androgynous-sounding singer was whining about. I have never been musical so although the musical prowess of Marr, Rourke and Joyce impressed me, it was the effeminate flower-wielding lead singer who infatuated me. Morrissey sang about homosexual or homoerotic experience; he sang about shyness, loneliness, and being an outsider; he sang about his dislike of hereditary Monarchy and social inequality; he sang about unrequited love and depression. He made literary references; quoting from works by Oscar Wilde, Shelagh Delaney, Kerouac and Shakespeare. I couldn't help but obsessively pour over his lyric booklets and scratch the words all over my tattered exercise books. Just like every Morrissey-listening misfit, I was convinced that he was singing about my life. Morrissey's lyrics reassured me that I wasn't alone at a time when I really needed that reassurance; because of this I know that I can never truly forget the songs that saved my life. 

It is often said that Morrissey fans are some of the most dedicated fans in existence. Nothing emphasises this more than the way he is deified by his most diehard followers. If you dare to voice your disagreement or disapproval of something Morrissey has said in the presence of the faithful, say in a Facebook group dedicated to the singer, you are pretty much guaranteed to be kicked out; or at least aggressively shouted down and blocked. Morrissey’s concerts are church meetings for his devotees, who gather there to chant his name and try to get up on stage just so they can touch him. Morrissey fans were even the focus of a 2012 BBC documentary entitled ‘Morrissey’s Moz Army’.
The problem with deifying anyone especially someone who is as prone to making polarising and downright offensive comments as Morrissey is that you have to suspend your own critical thinking in order to keep believing, because acknowledging that the person is imperfect would be tantamount to sacrilege. 

In most cases, it is, of course, possible to separate the art from the artist; utterly necessary, even. However, in the case of artists like Morrissey whose personal views permeate his work so deeply, it can get tricky. Morrissey’s venture into right-wing politics has already prompted a shift in tone in his latest album ‘Low in High school.’ In the album’s ballad ‘Israel’, Morrissey lovingly croons some of his most cringe-inducing, simplistic lyrics: ‘And they who reign abuse upon you/They are jealous of you as well/Love yourself as you should/Israel.' Well that settles it, then. Thanks Morrissey. We can only hope that his recent hobby of Muslim-bashing doesn't make its way into his next album. Even his reassurance that he ‘would do anything for [his] Muslim friends’ is likely to console his Muslim fans; especially as ‘anything’ seems to exclude supporting and urging others to support the extreme right-wing and overtly Islamophobic party For Britain, claiming that halal meat is certified by ISIS, ridiculously asserting that the acid attacks in London are all non-white, and having Muslim friends.

Like my realisation seven years ago that I didn't have to keep believing in the things I had been told in church, the realisation that it was unnecessary to defend every dumb thing Morrissey says was hugely relieving. I felt the need to defend him before because his lyrics meant so much to me, and I just couldn't bear the idea that someone who could write such beautiful lyrics could say such ugly things; and so I reassured myself that he can't really have said them, he must have been misquoted or his comments taken out of context. It's even harder to maintain that already flimsy excuse now. A part of me misses being part of something as intense and communal as the Morrissey fandom, just as I sometimes miss the comfort and certainty brought about by believing in an omnipotent sky dad; but there comes a time in everyone’s life when you have to grow up and face the facts, again.