July 22, 2006
Moz in Barcelonely
Morrissey has written a nice letter on his fansite. Here are a few choice excerpts...
I wanted to thank everyone who had turned up - or turned out - for the Ringleader tour; very appreciated by all of us... I'm sorry the sound wasn't quite anchored for the first London Palladium or the first Dublin Olympia. I am only a spout.
...Thanks to everyone who bought Ringleader of the Tormentors; I'm sorry it remains classically ignored by radio, not to mention those delightful awards events...it has the demeanor of distinction and pleases me more than anything else I've done. It's the Scottish terrier I'll never have.
...I'm sorry that the press is frozen in time; open at the bottom but jammed at the top. It is an eternal conundrum. God forbid the world ever moves on!...It's annoying how each interview bounds its way into print emerging as, in fact, a Smiths piece. I wish this wasn't so, but there it is. It's doubly annoying because, if the Smiths reformed tomorrow, the loudest yawn would come from the press.
...I thought it was very lazy of Warners not to commemorate the 20th year of The Queen Is Dead without a special edition CD - or boxed CD, or tea towel - or something! We can only assume that those highly paid and magnetically talented people at Warners are far too busy rolling their own tampons to allow art and creativity to take them away from their work. As always for the Smiths, another poignant moment wasted.
...I have heard that the CDs Viva Hate, Kill Uncle, Your Arsenal and Vauxhall and I are to be re-presented/re-mastered/re-whatevered. I have no involvement with this project, and whatever I learn about it is via the delightful gossip chain.
...When Warners in London sent me the final proof of the Very Best of the Smiths I wearily pointed out to them that there were 18 typo errors on their artwork and that, in any case, they shouldn't release the CD in such an awful sleeve. They completely ignored me, of course, but they corrected the 18 errors. Typical!
...I am writing this in the city of Barcelona where, many years ago, I discovered the American writer James Baldwin sitting alone and somewhat lost in the darkened lobby of one of the city's oldest hotels. Surprised at being inches away from such a great man, I froze in sheepish clumsiness, circled him eleven times, before I realized that he could not possibly have any interest in being approached by someone who had spent all 25 years of their life locked in an attic because too awful to look at. So, I did nothing, walked on, and shortly thereafter he was dead. Yet another lesson.
...I recently had a film offer to appear for roughly 20 minutes in an American film starring Alec Baldwin wherein I'd play the part of a potty music teacher. It's ideal casting, of course, but hampered by the slightly minor detail that I cannot actually act. I couldn't even convincingly play the part of a dead person even if I were actually dead. So that, sadly, is that. The world is spared.
...Here's to the future when all's ..... well?
I love how he signs it...
Barcelonely, July 2006.
nice piccie (recent!) courtesy of Thereisalight.co.uk