Morrissey, love him or hate him, has always been unique and divisive. In recent years it seems like he has been intent on alienating fans both long time and casual despite near constant touring. Not only with his "cancel is my middle name" reputation, but also with recycled setlists, constant media trolling and frequently questionable statements, not to mention his increasingly dull andMorrissey, love him or hate him, has always been unique and divisive. In recent years it seems like he has been intent on alienating fans both long time and casual despite near constant touring. Not only with his "cancel is my middle name" reputation, but also with recycled setlists, constant media trolling and frequently questionable statements, not to mention his increasingly dull and political lyrics.
Song titles often appear as the first line or chorus of a song, and clunky lines are repeated for emphasis in what seems like a half-hearted attempt at lending weight and depth where there is none. When it comes to the political end of things, his lyrics get downright embarrassing, and come across less as world wise elder and more like irritating college freshman discovering politics for the first time.
Groaners like the overly serious, media baiting yet laughably bad Israel, or the caustic bitterness of his bloated attempt at rock opera- I bury the living, show a lack of empathy and awareness for the very real suffering of the very real humans who make up their lyrical inspiration, and test the patience of the listener. Spent the day in bed is a toxic fluff piece, simultaneously grating and catchy like a ringtone from hell. On the flip-side of that is In your lap, which is the most depressing tuneless song about oral sex ever written. When you open your legs is another song about sex that would sound better in the capable hands of someone like Tom Jones who could likely pull it off, even at his age ( and sorry, the shock factor of ol' supposedly celibate Morrissey singing about sex wore off in 2006 or so.) All the Young People Must Fall In Love has an interesting musical premise that is absolutely crushed beneath terrible, sterile production that saps it of any swing it might have once had, and the repetitive lyrics and repeated title-as-chorus drag on far too long. The less said about The Girl From Tel Aviv, the better. Who Will Protect Us From the Police is a bland slice of reheated Depeche Mode squelches, musically and lyrically bereft and forgettable. Jacky's Only Happy plods along and somehow feels much longer than its running time but at least has some of the only semi-interesting lyrics on the entire album.
If there were a high point to this low school, it would have to be My Love, I'd do anything for you. It's ballsy sounding, but again, is dragged down by ham fisted political lyrics. I wish you lonely at least sounds somewhat urgent, despite a lack of any discernible hook or chorus, and Home is a question mark at least has a really pretty last minute after plodding along on a Morrissey by numbers moaner referencing bored dinners with "bogus music moguls" and feeling out of place in the world.
It's a rare thing for Morrissey to be outshined by his band, but in many cases on Low in High School, he reveals himself to be the weakest contributor to the songs. It seems like he is in dire need of new players, or a lengthy break to potentially revive inspiration beyond the blandness, bluntness, and bitterness that he tries to pass of as songs now. There is no real sense of effort or artistry to be found. Gone are the trademark wit, humor, and introspection, and forget about cunning wordplay, because you will not find it here.
The most shocking takeaway from the album is that it seems like he's in need of a lyricist, which is something I never thought I would be saying. The biggest sin that Morrissey has committed though, is that in his old age, he's become boring. The musical equivalent to an old timer at the pub, rattling his newspaper and shouting nonsense about the headlines to the bored patrons who do their best to tune him out. Meat may be murder, but so is putting up with the cranky old bastard in 2017.… Expand
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