The news of Morrissey's possible retirement was always unlikely to knock the Eurozone crisis off the front page. Why should we care? After all, he hasn't had any notable hits since Irish Blood English Heart in 2004 and his recent output has ranged from uninspiring to mediocre. Most offensively he has become a caricature of himself and has released three 'best of' albums in the last decade alone. The fresh young singer who so passionately berated the cynical nature of the music industry in Paint a Vulgar Picture would surely be wondering where it all went so wrong.
Morrissey's break into popular consciousness was as the flamboyant, flower waving, Wilde reading singer of The Smiths, a band who I would go as far as saying never wrote a bad song. Despite only lasting for four years they left a strong and significant imprint on British music and culture. Their four albums remain four of the finest British albums of that generation and their influence can be found in the work of almost every British guitar band of the Britpop era. The solo career which came afterwards has always split the critics; Viva Hate and Vauxhall and I in particular were brilliantly crafted albums, but they were never going to be quite as good, after all, how does one follow up an album as exceptional as The Queen is Dead?
When I first listened to him I wasn't impressed, I didn't get it at all and couldn't understand what all of the fuss was about. However, I can remember vividly the first time that it all clicked for me. I was in a church yard in York with a friend and listening to newly bought copy of Strangeways Here we Come on a Diskman. At first neither of us was particularly impressed, but then it rolled onto track number seven, at which point the opening strains of Unhappy Birthday began and suddenly I got it. At that moment I felt like I had finally managed to get a particularly clever joke and made up for lost time by purchasing the entire back catalogue as quickly as I could.
Since then Morrissey's cynically confessional lyrics and dry observations have been one of the few constants in my life. The best music makes us conjure up images of moments and memories of times past. It can make us think to the future, but ultimately it helps us to realise who we are and shapes the moments that we share. In the summer of 2004, as a somewhat pretentious teenager, I fell for a girl over our shared love of Meat is Murder (at that point in my life I was a Morrissey inspired vegetarian) and split up with her only a couple of months later as we listened to Vauxhall and I on vinyl. When I studied for my final exams at school it was The Queen is Dead and Louder than Bombs that provided my musical backdrop and Suedehead that I sang in the shower. When I went to University it was as You are the Quarry reinvented the Mozfather for the 21st century and while I studied late into the night and pondered life's complexities it was to This Charming Man and Girlfriend in a Coma. Finally, when I graduated and entered the work force it was to Years of Refusal, and when I packed my bags for a life in the big city it was Ringleader of the Tormentors that I listened to on the way down.
Despite the xenophobic outbursts and the increasingly irrelevant decrees from the pulpit of the 'Pope of Mope' I have always tried to remain loyal to the cause, but eventually there comes a time when you have to say no. Long pub debates about how he may have been taken out of context have become increasingly farcical when confronted with the fact that none of it really matters anymore anyway. What was once and edgy and cool now seems quite tired and clichéd. Now that it's 2012 the lock-jawed pop stars have won and the Queen is alive and well, and unfortunately in an age of disposable celebrities and reality TV it's Morrissey who's looking increasingly out of touch.
Even if he does stick it out and become the 'modern day Andy Williams' it's hard to see what more he can contribute. I remember feeling a sad note in 2009 when the Swords compilation came out. On one hand I bought it on its day of release, but on the other I had utterly no expectations for it whatsoever. After only one half-hearted listen, during which I was doing something else, it sits unloved and collecting dust. At that point I felt like I had outgrown that stage of my life; I can still nostalgically listen to the oldies and appreciate them for what they are, but I also know deep down that I will never get excited about another Morrissey release ever again. I feel like I've moved on and changed from the person I was in those days, but sadly he's not. Although now that he's without a record company and he has a 600 page autobiography on the horizon it looks like he may finally have found the right time to hang up the gladioli for good.