Friday 27th January 2006

I’ve alluded to this in the past, but I’m a huge fan of Morrissey. There are some very common misunderstandings about the chap which I’ll clear up for those of you not fully accustomed. First, don’t confuse him with Van Morrison, there’s really very little comparison. The Morrissey I’m referring to is in his mid-forties and used to front arguably our most important and best band, The Smiths, in the 1980’s before recording a number of varyingly successful solo albums during the 90’s, then disappearing for seven years, then making a huge and sensational comeback in 2004.

The second misunderstanding is that he’s very depressing and maudlin. This is absolutely not the case – he’s laugh out loud funny most of the time, and when he isn’t being funny he’s being outrageous. The third misunderstanding is that his fans are pathetically committed, almost to an insane level of dedication. This again is not the case, his fans are even more dedicated than that – without question the most loyal, dutiful and unwavering bunch of misfits that pop has ever known. And I count myself amongst them.

Tickets for his national tour went on sale at 9am this morning but I woke up at 9.30 and had a horrible feeling I’d missed the boat. Mozzer’s fans are pretty quick off the mark and indeed all the phone lines were engaged and the ticket agencies websites were timing out. The whole tour pretty much sold out in twenty minutes. I eventually got through to a company called Seetickets and the only venue left was in Halifax, not ideal, but it just happened to be on the occasion of my birthday so I thought that would be a nice gift to myself. I gratefully booked two tickets and was pleased with my luck and patience. It had been a nervy few minutes.

I then nerdily went onto a Morrissey discussion website to boast loudly and without consideration for the unlucky ones about my prize. There were lots of forlorn people – some of whom had been pressing redial since half eight but to no avail. Then I checked e-Bay and the touts had done their work – tickets were already going for £400.

It’s quite hard to explain why people are so dedicated to the man. It’s especially hard seeing as those young people who were into The Smiths when they were around are now middle aged accountants with mortgages, kids and a Saab. But still the passion remains. I don’t really have an answer to it besides perhaps that at least Morrissey has always remained true to himself and never pulled any punches. He also remains a complete mystery, which is fascinating, and pretty much unheard of in the current celebrity climate. Nobody knows anything about him, and that does maximise his appeal.

The other thing, I suppose, is that he’s now achieved that very rare status, a status that in this country doesn’t one day get awarded but gradually envelopes you, that of ‘national treasure’. It’s different to many countries idea of ‘national hero’. I understand the Cypriots now have a new ‘national hero’ because one of their tennis players, a young man called Marcos Baghdatis, has got through to the final of the Australian Open despite being unseeded. That is very different to National Treasure status. To become a National Treasure you don’t have to do anything specific, but you have to become sort of irreplaceable.

Alan Bennett is a national treasure. John Cleese. Stephen Fry. Victoria Wood, to a degree. Bizarrely, Rolf Harris might be considered one.

It’s possible to be dead and still be a National Treasure, of course, but we prefer them to be alive. John Betjeman, George Orwell, Quentin Crisp – all national treasures but inconveniently deceased.

I don’t know what really makes you a N.T. I think the public have to see you with the utmost affection. It’s a public vote that takes place slowly over many years, even decades. That’s why Paul McCartney isn’t a national treasure, despite being in The Beatles. He doesn’t command affection. J.K. Rowling too is probably just too successful and rich to really be considered one – at least for now. She’d be a N.T. in America but our rules are complex. We like our Treasures to have had their ups and downs.

So getting tickets to see a national treasure who can sing wonderfully is always going to be difficult. I’m pleased with my two tickets and should really count myself fortunate I overslept slightly – had I had the option of lots of venues I might have been silly and maxed out my credit card. My only regret is not getting one for his appearance in Liverpool at the Philharmonic Hall which would have been a lovely evening. I wont pander to touts – I’ve done that before.

The extra difficulty has been that he can happily fill large arenas like Earls Court but has chosen to play small theatres this time. I believe one venue has a 600 capacity, which is ludicrous when you could sell 16,000. This is only good if you’re one of the lucky ones - they will be great shows.

I performed myself this evening, although I doubt with a fraction of Mozzer’s panache, to a delightful and enthusiastic crowd in Bollington, near Macclesfield. It was a splendid evening and I spoke for about forty minutes, which is as long as you’ll ever do on the circuit. The new material is finally working to something approaching it’s potential and seems to link in with the old stuff well. One new bit that I was worried about, the ten minute story and song, perhaps got more applause than anything else so I was delighted.

When I arrived back in Liverpool at around midnight I was still feeling happy, if tired, and so stopped in at the Hope Street Hotel for a Cosmopolitan. I felt I’d deserved it and it tasted all the better for that very reason – don’t they always.

Perhaps one day people will have their mornings ruined and hopes crushed by failing to get through to ticket agencies when wanting a ticket to see me perform? One can only dream.

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