Morrissey + The Courteeners - House of Blues (Boston, MA; Mar. 29, 2009)

Several years ago, I lived in Ann Arbor, Mich. for a summer. Meaning no offense to anyone born there, or any of the hundreds of thousands of people who pile in to grab a fantastic education or to see a once-great football team: Ann Arbor kind of blows. But what made it worse was how I somehow managed to be in Boston when Morrissey gave a concert in Ann Arbor, and then in Ann Arbor when Morrissey was crooning in Boston. I caught him this time around, though, and am pleased as punch.

Before Morrissey performed, Manchester-based indie rockers the Courteeners lit up the new House of Blues. They have a solid, clean sound, excellent songwriting and very compelling instrumentation. Consistently good guitar hooks and motifs helped to usher in the evening. Acknowledging what the packed house was there to see, lead singer and guitarist Liam Fray told us that he knew that we were all there for Morrissey. And, having been on tour with him for a little while now, he promised that “[we were] in for a fun night.” This brought massive cheers from the audience, and the Courteeners finished up a set that was entertaining and extremely accessible.

During the set break, I had my first opportunity to look around the new House of Blues on Landsdowne, and I have one word to say about it: vomit. Here’s the thing about Boston: it isn’t San Francisco, and it isn’t New York. By this, I mean there’s no need for kitschy Peace, Love, Home, Peach, Heart, Ladder, Dove, etc. pop/folk art on the walls. There’s no need for giant lighted medallions extolling the major world religions on the proscenium arch. This isn’t the Fillmore. It’s a bar and venue between Fenway fucking Park and Jillians, neither of which are exactly Peace & Love Meccas.

That said, the set up is admirable, a sort of mini–Terminal 5 in a slightly more accessible location. It is multi-leveled, with several bars throughout the space. The lighting setup is excellent: Boston may finally have good lighting, rather than the craptastic stuff we’re used to.

Anyway. The wait to see Steven Patrick Morrissey was well worth it. Coming out on stage in a black oxford and slightly baggy blue jeans with a shiny strip of zipper fly reflecting all the way to the back, Morrissey dashed right into his set. Flanked by a group of mostly svelte young men in bootcut bluejeans and tight-fitting orange or red tee shirts, Morrissey commanded center stage with his rakish personality and honeyed vocals. Reaching out several times to the audience in order to fulfill the wishes of dozens of grasping fans, Morrissey clearly enjoyed the crowd’s appreciation. Indeed, they were giving him gifts left and right. I counted a green-covered book, a cowboy hat with “VILE” taped or lettered onto the brim, not to mention the vinyl someone had brought with them for him to sign. Noting that “If he could make even one single person happy” he would do it, he graciously accepted gifts and signed autographs between songs.

Morrissey has an arguably strange—and strained—crowd interaction, where he curmudges between songs in a practiced fashion, never more than a few words before his drummer kicks in with the next tune. At one point, he launched into a slightly longer story, telling us that they had a long bus ride ahead of them: again, to Ann Arbor. Reacting to the crowd’s scoffing and booing, Morrissey smiled and noted, “Hey, everywhere exists.” Let me tell you: Ann Arbor exists. But it’s an interesting thought experiment. If cogito ergo sum, does that mean that, as you go brain dead while in Ann Arbor, you no longer exist? I’m no logician. I’m just saying.

In any event, Morrissey noted that, in the sparkling new House of Blues, they have two lovely kitchens, and he had asked whether he could cook some brown rice and peppers for the drive. And they said no! Henceforth, Morrissey referred to the venue as the House of Rules, and mused something to the effect of “Can you believe how some people are?”

Morrissey’s off-handed charm, though, drips out of him throughout the show. While moaning and pleading through “Billy Budd,” he whips the microphone cord around like some rope-tricking rodeo cowboy. Or, more appropriately, like some longshoreman arriving in port and anxious to make land. He stalked about the stage, removing a shirt and throwing it into the audience. He returned a short bit later with a new shirt, still seeming cool and collected—the man in charge, as ever.

Morrissey’s new album, Years of Refusal, has some of his best solo writing to date. While I still love Vauxhall and I and to distraction, the new “That’s How People Grow Old” and “Something Is Squeezing My Skull” are both incredibly good and solid. Both are short, quickly developing, and feature Morrissey’s excellent dynamic and tonal range.

Yeah, it would’ve been worth going to Ann Arbor just to see him again. But I’ll wait until Boston or New York, I guess. It’ll save the headache.

DOWNLOAD: Morrissey - Something is Squeezing My Skull (live) (MP3) or Follow us for more Morrissey MP3s (Twitter)

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