Morrissey the 23rd
Banned
http://www.lejdd.fr/cmc/culture/20086/impeccable-morrissey_92400.html
Bablepish translation:
Impeccable Morrissey
By Frederic WARINGUEZ
The appearances of Morrissey in France rare and always are very awaited by a troop of fans, ex-fundamentalist of Smiths who continue to dedicate a worship with their singer. In Olympia crammed, after having passed by Clermont-Ferrand (?), Strasbourg and Lille, Moz gave Monday evening a concert during which it was shown with best its form.
On the m? subject
"I just want to say, I follow you since 1983. That' S the story of my life... " the heartfelt cry, moving, of a French fan with whom Morrissey tightened his microphone between two songs. Morrissey, it is that, an alive icon, vestige of this glorious time of what is called "pop English", a kind in oneself of which Mancunien would be a kind of "father". At 49 years, it is true that he is not any more this frail and fragile young man, maniéré and tormented singer of Smiths which will make its legend. After twenty years of an unequal career solo, Morrissey counts all the same ten albums under its only name and some solids songs. But it remains forever the voice of Smiths.
This voice, which it had suddenly lost after having interpreted three pieces on scene in London, last 25 January, obliging it to cancel several concerts, was indeed there, in Olympia. Hotter than ever. In a word, superb. A voice which ages like the good wine, which takes "grain" but which remains exceptionally flexible and never balks with some distorsion, of the low register to the acute one. A voice which is the trademark of Moz, sometimes imitated, ever equalized.
Myth is murder
Been useful by an honest but unobtrusive group, inevitably drawn to four pins, Morrissey thus offered to its Parisian fans and to all those which follow it everywhere a show perfectly rôdé during the greatest round than it ever undertook, mixing a selection as of its Greatest Hits (a compilation has just left) and a few pieces of Smiths finely selected. Not the super known one but of the songs which find echo in the ear of the experts like Death of has disco music dancer and Stop me yew you think you' ve heard this one before drawn from the Strangeways album, here we come or Please, Please, Please, Let me get what I want and How soon is now? on Hatful of hollow. Small jewels of time finely engraved, which, even re-examined in the light of 2008, remain true wonders, taken again like prayers by a public idôlatre.
And then there is this charisma. Morrissey, since always, releases a trick which makes fall the girls and even the boys. This type takes the light. Even today with the mouth of the Ménardeau inspector, with this wick grisonnante and its dubious steps of rockabilly (The Loop), the magic operates. The class would be thus an inalterable phenomenon. Morrissey perspires, the fans adore. They tear off the shirts that it balances to them as one would fight for a piece of Holy Shroud. An alive icon, one said to you...
Bablepish translation:
Impeccable Morrissey
By Frederic WARINGUEZ
The appearances of Morrissey in France rare and always are very awaited by a troop of fans, ex-fundamentalist of Smiths who continue to dedicate a worship with their singer. In Olympia crammed, after having passed by Clermont-Ferrand (?), Strasbourg and Lille, Moz gave Monday evening a concert during which it was shown with best its form.
On the m? subject
"I just want to say, I follow you since 1983. That' S the story of my life... " the heartfelt cry, moving, of a French fan with whom Morrissey tightened his microphone between two songs. Morrissey, it is that, an alive icon, vestige of this glorious time of what is called "pop English", a kind in oneself of which Mancunien would be a kind of "father". At 49 years, it is true that he is not any more this frail and fragile young man, maniéré and tormented singer of Smiths which will make its legend. After twenty years of an unequal career solo, Morrissey counts all the same ten albums under its only name and some solids songs. But it remains forever the voice of Smiths.
This voice, which it had suddenly lost after having interpreted three pieces on scene in London, last 25 January, obliging it to cancel several concerts, was indeed there, in Olympia. Hotter than ever. In a word, superb. A voice which ages like the good wine, which takes "grain" but which remains exceptionally flexible and never balks with some distorsion, of the low register to the acute one. A voice which is the trademark of Moz, sometimes imitated, ever equalized.
Myth is murder
Been useful by an honest but unobtrusive group, inevitably drawn to four pins, Morrissey thus offered to its Parisian fans and to all those which follow it everywhere a show perfectly rôdé during the greatest round than it ever undertook, mixing a selection as of its Greatest Hits (a compilation has just left) and a few pieces of Smiths finely selected. Not the super known one but of the songs which find echo in the ear of the experts like Death of has disco music dancer and Stop me yew you think you' ve heard this one before drawn from the Strangeways album, here we come or Please, Please, Please, Let me get what I want and How soon is now? on Hatful of hollow. Small jewels of time finely engraved, which, even re-examined in the light of 2008, remain true wonders, taken again like prayers by a public idôlatre.
And then there is this charisma. Morrissey, since always, releases a trick which makes fall the girls and even the boys. This type takes the light. Even today with the mouth of the Ménardeau inspector, with this wick grisonnante and its dubious steps of rockabilly (The Loop), the magic operates. The class would be thus an inalterable phenomenon. Morrissey perspires, the fans adore. They tear off the shirts that it balances to them as one would fight for a piece of Holy Shroud. An alive icon, one said to you...
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