Friday, January 21, 2005

Album of the Year - Focusing the Family on....

And the winner is for album of the year....AHHHHH could it be anyone other than the great one himself....

(This post was written back in July of 2004)
Am I the only person out there who thinks that the new Morrissey record is the greatest thing to come from Great Britain since Winston Churchill?

The new Morrissey record is just pure poetry and pop romance as only Morrissey can do. You are the Quarry aims again to help the English redefine themselves. Morrissey is on a mission to make a more balanced and romantic world for all of us to live in. As for me and my household, we will ballroom dance to Morrissey all hours of the day and night. Just last night, we had a family “lets dance around with Dad to the new Morrissey record” frolic in the living room. It is really funny because I am a pastor and I live on the Church Campus, which is quite the fishbowl. But lets throw all caution to the wind and swoon with the great swooner. I looked up the word swoon. It means “To be overwhelmed by ecstatic joy.” Ah, to swoon.

The album has its hits like, “Irish Blood, English Heart” and “The First of the Gang to Die” which are quite catchy. But, oh, the old despair of Morrissey is so rich and full-bodied on “The World is Full of Crashing Bores” and my personal favorite “Let Me Kiss You”. Why does Morrissey make us feel so good?

Well the answer is in the question: "What does it mean to be a poet?"

Why do some of us want to be poets? Ahh, it is because the poet is trying to make something beautiful. To Morrissey, it appears that what is beautiful is being authentic about your struggles with desire, the desire to be loved, the desire to be safe. Morrissey explores his self loathing and his navel gazing as to why no one loves him. Needless to say, Morrissey and I connect. I just want to launch into romantic verse:

Regrets, regrets, regrets. That is the story of my life.
But I can dream of the day.
Of the day when you embrace me and tell me
Tell me something other than the regrets I tell myself:
"Self, you are a loud-mouthed bore.
Self, you are no more aesthetically inspiring than the local convenience store."
So tell me something or say nothing at all if you have nothing nice to say.
If you have nothing nice to say….

Ah, I long to focus the family on the reality of some of the self-loathing, self-conscious melancholy of our long lost fellow travelers, and who to do it better with than the Mos. Ahh, to touch and feel the emotions of the world. This can be the height of knowledge. So to all you Ghetto dwellers buy a bottle of wine and "You are the Quarry".

And drink a toast and pray a tearful prayer for all the ghetto dwellers who are asking for a voice at the devil's dinner table.

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