Click, tap, click.
The Morrissey Autobiography wends it's way to me.
I loved The Smiths, about three years too late for their prime but I loved them anyway and love them still. Every word, note, the lot.
I never quite got the post Smiths Morrissey. I liked 'Viva Hate' but that was it.
This book, as the back cover blurb points out, is about Morrissey, not The Smiths.
He spends some interesting prose on his upbringing and path to musical glory in the early/mid eighties.
This is well written and engaging stuff.
Then The Smiths split and he tells us about his solo efforts.
Still well written but I'm working hard to stick with it.
The court case between the members of The Smiths provides over 100 pages of bitchy, self indulgent, whinging. I wanted to throw the book away but somehow felt that I might possibly miss out somehow.
I should have known better.
In parts this reminded me of Bob Dylan's 'Chronicles' which was a testament to a lost era of musical history.
In parts Oscar Wilde's 'De Profundis' which was a work of incredible originality and emotion.
This was neither, it lost me.
