California Son

Without the baggage of his political views--which is where the letter grade on this review comes from--California Son would be a worthy addition to a mostly stellar catalog, offering insight into a great singer and lyricist’s taste and breathing new life into mostly forgotten songs.

Committing to kitschy ’60s bliss as much as that era’s real or imagined war zones allows Morrissey and California Son a chance to find a (literal) voice in a way he hasn’t in ages. It would just be an even greater feat if Morrissey could make more of its finer musical moments jibe with his personal vibes.

For California Son, the Pope of Mope has picked 12 lilting tales of injustice and unrequited love by some of his favorite artists and re-orchestrated them for his voice, improving some and turning others into head scratchers.

He's sounding a bit like a curmudgeon, but he embraces his eccentricities, which means this contrarianism wears well on record, even if it doesn't in real life.

California Son may not entirely succeed in repositioning Morrissey as a righteous protest singer, boldly crooning truth to power, but in fleeting moments like this [like on "Some Say I Got Devil"], it confirms him as a peerless modern practitioner of deep song, the pop artist who can divine, even in the work of the singer of "Brand New Key," lorca's dark, abysmal spirit of duende. [Jun 2019, p.28]

Versions of Jon i Mitchell's Don't Interrupt The Sorrow and Bob Dylan's Only A Pawn In Their Game are surprisingly persuasive. Elsewhere, it's like being imprisoned in the teenage Moz bedroom/brain. [Jun 2019, p.89]

When they play it safer, like on their workmanlike strum through Joni Mitchell’s “Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow” or the easy-listening wistfulness of their take on Roy Orbison’s “It’s Over,” the results are less remarkable. And while it’s a relief to be spared Morrissey’s bitterness, sometimes California Son feels too frothy, and he sounds like he doesn’t have any skin in the game at all.

A competently executed, if indulgent. [Jul 2019, p.85]

There's nothing transformative enough to make this more than a placeholder and plenty that is kitsch. [Summer 2019, p.112]

California Son is uneven at its best, and borderline sacrilegious at its lowest points. This level of steady, maintained mediocrity will only make it harder and harder for all but his staunchest fans to continue caring.

The arrangements are suitably bombastic: there’s a theremin camping up the pub piano on his cover of Laura Nyro’s ”Wedding Bell Blues”. His version of Bruce Wayne Campbell’s (aka Jobriath) 1973 glam stomp “Morning Starship” really sells the wry/cosmic lyrics about a girl picking a rocket’s lock with her hairpin. ... Morrissey’s take on Joni Mitchell’s “Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow” is leaden jazz karaoke, stripping the original of all its haze and drift. The electro-stomp/harp, fading to reflective piano fade-out of his reworking of Melanie Safka’s ”Some Say I Got Devil”, makes a joke of his lifelong self-pity.

Some tracks are merely forgettable--‘Days Of Decision’, ‘Lenny’s Tune’ and ‘When You Close Your Eyes’--while others charge headfirst into oddball territory.

He wheezes through Gary Puckett and the Union Gap’s Lady Willpower like an exhumed Tom Jones, and hearing him preening on Don’t Interrupt the Sorrow--given an arduously heavy makeover by his band--feels like a violation of Joni Mitchell’s mythically light original.