On this day

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
1988:

 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
Recorded (for the most part) 22 December 1992:


 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
1991, Amnesty International 30th Anniversary Special:



Couple of interesting things about this performance. As told in detail by Len Brown (see Spoiler below), Morrissey only agreed to appear on the programme on two conditions: James, the likely target of the lyrics, had to appear as well and Lulu had to announce him (she was unavailable and James' performance was cut out from the broadcast, spoiling the joke.)

His outfit is also strangely reminiscent of his later Smiths days with the quiff in turmoil, oversized jacket and his watch facing the inside of his wrist. He even accepts a bouquet of flowers at the end.


Picture of Tim and Moz taken that day

MozTimBoothAmnesty91.jpg


So, we’d certainly talked politics a-plenty long before I approached him to appear in the Amnesty International benefit but, partly because of his passionate commitment to the Animal Rights movement, I honestly doubted he’d align himself with a Human Rights organisation.

As usual with Morrissey, it was something surprising and amusing that made him decide to appear at the Amnesty 30th birthday party. While ‘Sing Your Life’, ‘Pregnant For The Last Time’ and ‘My Love Life’ had all struggled to break into the Top 30 in 1991, his old Rough Trade label-mates (and early Smiths-support-act) James – the Manchester band fronted by Tim Booth – had reached number two in the charts with their re-released classic ‘Sit Down’. Only an indie hit back in 1989, ‘Sit Down’ would be voted one of the top-selling records of 1991.

Clearly Morrissey saw an opportunity to get his own back. When he agreed to join the Amnesty International cast-list, via Jo Slee, there were only two conditions for his appearance. Firstly, that we book James. Secondly, that he would be introduced by Lulu.

James eagerly agreed, although they were initially reluctant to do ‘Sit Down’ yet again and would even try to perform an alternative, reggae version of the song at the TV studio event in Nottingham. Lulu, however, was unavailable. Just as well really, as I later found out that Morrissey had only suggested her because of the 1920s comedy song ‘Don’t Bring Lulu’ (written by someone called Lew Brown).

Wrongly assuming Morrissey had never been serious about appearing and thinking he would definitely cancel when I told him Lulu was busy, Morrissey next requested Cathy McGowan, presenter of Sixties pop show Ready, Steady, Go! Billy Fury, one of Morrissey’s great heroes – one of the first British rock’n’roll stars – had appeared on the first episode of the show. Thankfully, for me and for the Amnesty production, McGowan happily agreed to introduce Morrissey in front of the live studio audience.

On a cold December night, a week before Christmas, Morrissey’s new band arrived ahead of their leader. At first sight they seemed an uncouth bunch, dressed in black, tattooed and in high spirits, lugging some of their own gear; the two guitarists and songwriters, Boz Boorer and Alain Whyte, followed by the villainous-looking bassist Gary Day and the drummer boy Spencer Cobrin. After showing them to their dressing room, where they seemed over-impressed with a new fangled Corby Trouser Press, I waited in the foyer for Morrissey, half-expecting him to get out of the saloon car, spot Rick Astley and feign sudden illness at the eleventh hour.

Naturally, he arrived fashionably late, carrying his stage outfit. Briefly, as he arrived, it passed through my mind how un-flashy his entrance was. Whereas most of the other acts seemed to have entourages and management teams and record company employees in tow, Morrissey strolled in alone. We shook hands awkwardly once again. “You’ve aged,” he said, encouragingly. “That’s television for you,” I replied, laughing. As we walked to his dressing room, we heard James begin sound-checking ‘Sit Down’.

After dropping his gear off, we headed towards the canteen and watched James’ performance on the monitors. I thanked Morrissey for agreeing to appear. He admitted that, while he was sympathetic to the work of Amnesty International, he also regarded it as one of those too rare British television opportunities to perform in a different setting with a variety of incompatible acts.

Above all, I realised, he was there because of James. It soon became clear that his latest Wilde-inspired song, ‘We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful’, was targeted at James’ recent triumph – not to mention the marketing success of their famous promotional flower-power T-shirts – and specifically at his old friend, the lead singer Tim Booth.

In the canteen, over a mug of Central TV tea, I talked to Morrissey about other important issues of the day, chiefly the state of the music industry and my ongoing fascination with his choice of lyrically different and difficult subject matter.

Morrissey: “If you’re a genuine artist you have a very powerful, oh God, vision of most situations, whether they be painful as in my case they most often are. It’s simply writing about what one sees. God, I see almost everything …”

LB: You’re beginning to sound like Soul II Soul’s Jazzy B with his (cue band impression of the Funky Dred DJ-ing supremo) “now I see everything” …

“Heaven forbid! You’re aware of the powerful sadness in most situations. You can see beauty in most individuals as well as the other side.”

In the case of ‘Girlfriend In A Coma’ or ‘November Spawned A Monster’ or even ‘Mute Witness’ on Kill Uncle …is it empathy or sympathy?

“It’s one of those words.”

But not pity?

“No, that would be horrible. After ‘November Spawned A Monster’ I had letters from people who were wheelchair-bound and they expressed enormous support and understanding and thanks for the record. It’s not just a matter of ‘thank you for including us because no one else does’ but ‘thank you for involving us in the right way’.”

My mum’s disabled so I was wondering whether you’d based your songs about disability on anyone you know? On the B-side ‘At Amber’ you sing about an invalid friend?

“Not really, but I don’t have to know people. It’s a matter of understanding many extreme situations in life. And if you see someone in what we oddly refer to as an unfortunate situation, someone who’s wheelchair bound, if you’re very perceptive and sensitive you can fully imagine the lifelong frustrations of constantly being discussed by other people, and constantly having people being irritatingly kind to you.”

Most other artists in popular music wouldn’t choose to create a pop song from this subject matter.

“They don’t have the capacity to. And it’s the Radio One mentality. Before one examines the level of understanding it’s ‘Oh, wheelchairs? We don’t discuss those things’. And if you want to discuss them you’re perverted and you’re criticising. It’s that attitude that excludes those people that are inverted commas, italics, whatever, less fortunate than the rest of us.”

They’d argue they’re being protective of …

“They’re the type of people who will condemn me for even considering writing a useful song about a person who is inverted commas incapacitated. There are people whose job it is in life to condemn.”

So, do you think the people who criticised you for tackling such sensitive subject matter, simply misunderstood and got the wrong end of the stick?

“That doesn’t matter. The people who have always criticised me still criticise me. There are certain journalists from 1983 to 1990 who could not fill in an application for a passport without mentioning my name.”

But does the condemnation, when it comes, affect your confidence or courage to write about difficult or controversial subjects?

“I don’t personally find it a dilemma; I simply make the record and examine the reception it might receive. I can’t really answer for the creation of the records, they almost lead me, which sounds terribly arty-farty and terribly surreal, but they lead me. The consequences are just something that I have to face.”

Before Morrissey’s performance, I introduced him to the warm and friendly Cathy McGowan, and left them together, reminiscing about Fury, Dusty, Cilla, The Beatles, the Stones and all the other great artists she’d met on Ready, Steady, Go!

Then, when it came time to record his track – sandwiched between Tom Jones’ performing ‘Never Going To Turn You Loose’ and an Amnesty message of support from Kylie – I fetched Morrissey from the dressing room and waited with him just off the studio floor while his band took their positions in front of the Amnesty audience.

While his rockabilly band waited impatiently in their drapes and the crowd noise increased, Morrissey stood quietly, thoughtfully, looking down at his shoes like a nervous child waiting outside the headmaster’s office. Then Cathy MacGowan announced him and the studio lights followed his slow self-conscious walk through the audience and onto the set.

Suddenly, in the spotlight, he seemed transformed, comfortable, overflowing with confidence, as if he’d suddenly become a different person. And perhaps more than any other artist on parade, he’d worked out his performance in advance, probably because it wasn’t naturally easy for him.

I know it was only a television show but without doubt he proved that night that he was one of the best showmen in the business. It’s never been enough for him to simply stand and sing the song, it’s all about performance and, perhaps, like Kenneth Williams, it’s the environment in which he comes alive. And it was funny, too, particularly when he looked over at James and complained in song that he should have been successful instead of them.

Once he’d left the stage, clutching a bouquet off lowers, to the sound of rapturous applause, I grabbed both Morrissey and Tim Booth and took them to the photographic area where they posed together with the Amnesty International symbol; Morrissey caressing the barbed wire around the burning candle.

Afterwards Morrissey seemed pleased with the performance, delighted to have met Cathy McGowan and to have poked fun at James’ chart success, even surprised that worthwhile television events existed beyond Top Of The Pops. Until the BBC launched Later With Jools Holland, he’d seem reluctant to perform on British television again.

Maybe that was my fault. When the programme was transmitted on ITV, to his and James’ great disappointment, ‘Sit Down’ was axed from the running order for time reasons. It wasn’t my decision but I got the blame from Morrissey – after all, his main reason for appearing had disappeared – and from James.*

To add further insult and irritation to Morrissey, when the video of Amnesty International’s Big 30 birthday party was released, the production company got the title of his song wrong, listing it as ‘I Hate It When My Friends Become Successful’. Morrissey, in a message relayed by Jo Slee, was not amused.
 
Last edited:

Nerak

Reverse Ferret
1991, Amnesty International 30th Anniversary Special:



Couple of interesting things about this performance. As told in detail by Len Brown (see Spoiler below), Morrissey only agreed to appear on the programme on two conditions: James, the likely target of the lyrics, had to appear as well and Lulu had to announce him (she was unavailable and James' performance was cut out from the broadcast, spoiling the joke.)

His outfit is also strangely reminiscent of his later Smiths days with the quiff in turmoil, oversized jacket and his watch facing the inside of his wrist. He even accepts a bouquet of flowers at the end.


Picture of Tim and Moz taken that day

View attachment 67061

So, we’d certainly talked politics a-plenty long before I approached him to appear in the Amnesty International benefit but, partly because of his passionate commitment to the Animal Rights movement, I honestly doubted he’d align himself with a Human Rights organisation.

As usual with Morrissey, it was something surprising and amusing that made him decide to appear at the Amnesty 30th birthday party. While ‘Sing Your Life’, ‘Pregnant For The Last Time’ and ‘My Love Life’ had all struggled to break into the Top 30 in 1991, his old Rough Trade label-mates (and early Smiths-support-act) James – the Manchester band fronted by Tim Booth – had reached number two in the charts with their re-released classic ‘Sit Down’. Only an indie hit back in 1989, ‘Sit Down’ would be voted one of the top-selling records of 1991.

Clearly Morrissey saw an opportunity to get his own back. When he agreed to join the Amnesty International cast-list, via Jo Slee, there were only two conditions for his appearance. Firstly, that we book James. Secondly, that he would be introduced by Lulu.

James eagerly agreed, although they were initially reluctant to do ‘Sit Down’ yet again and would even try to perform an alternative, reggae version of the song at the TV studio event in Nottingham. Lulu, however, was unavailable. Just as well really, as I later found out that Morrissey had only suggested her because of the 1920s comedy song ‘Don’t Bring Lulu’ (written by someone called Lew Brown).

Wrongly assuming Morrissey had never been serious about appearing and thinking he would definitely cancel when I told him Lulu was busy, Morrissey next requested Cathy McGowan, presenter of Sixties pop show Ready, Steady, Go! Billy Fury, one of Morrissey’s great heroes – one of the first British rock’n’roll stars – had appeared on the first episode of the show. Thankfully, for me and for the Amnesty production, McGowan happily agreed to introduce Morrissey in front of the live studio audience.

On a cold December night, a week before Christmas, Morrissey’s new band arrived ahead of their leader. At first sight they seemed an uncouth bunch, dressed in black, tattooed and in high spirits, lugging some of their own gear; the two guitarists and songwriters, Boz Boorer and Alain Whyte, followed by the villainous-looking bassist Gary Day and the drummer boy Spencer Cobrin. After showing them to their dressing room, where they seemed over-impressed with a new fangled Corby Trouser Press, I waited in the foyer for Morrissey, half-expecting him to get out of the saloon car, spot Rick Astley and feign sudden illness at the eleventh hour.

Naturally, he arrived fashionably late, carrying his stage outfit. Briefly, as he arrived, it passed through my mind how un-flashy his entrance was. Whereas most of the other acts seemed to have entourages and management teams and record company employees in tow, Morrissey strolled in alone. We shook hands awkwardly once again. “You’ve aged,” he said, encouragingly. “That’s television for you,” I replied, laughing. As we walked to his dressing room, we heard James begin sound-checking ‘Sit Down’.

After dropping his gear off, we headed towards the canteen and watched James’ performance on the monitors. I thanked Morrissey for agreeing to appear. He admitted that, while he was sympathetic to the work of Amnesty International, he also regarded it as one of those too rare British television opportunities to perform in a different setting with a variety of incompatible acts.

Above all, I realised, he was there because of James. It soon became clear that his latest Wilde-inspired song, ‘We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful’, was targeted at James’ recent triumph – not to mention the marketing success of their famous promotional flower-power T-shirts – and specifically at his old friend, the lead singer Tim Booth.

In the canteen, over a mug of Central TV tea, I talked to Morrissey about other important issues of the day, chiefly the state of the music industry and my ongoing fascination with his choice of lyrically different and difficult subject matter.

Morrissey: “If you’re a genuine artist you have a very powerful, oh God, vision of most situations, whether they be painful as in my case they most often are. It’s simply writing about what one sees. God, I see almost everything …”

LB: You’re beginning to sound like Soul II Soul’s Jazzy B with his (cue band impression of the Funky Dred DJ-ing supremo) “now I see everything” …

“Heaven forbid! You’re aware of the powerful sadness in most situations. You can see beauty in most individuals as well as the other side.”

In the case of ‘Girlfriend In A Coma’ or ‘November Spawned A Monster’ or even ‘Mute Witness’ on Kill Uncle …is it empathy or sympathy?

“It’s one of those words.”

But not pity?

“No, that would be horrible. After ‘November Spawned A Monster’ I had letters from people who were wheelchair-bound and they expressed enormous support and understanding and thanks for the record. It’s not just a matter of ‘thank you for including us because no one else does’ but ‘thank you for involving us in the right way’.”

My mum’s disabled so I was wondering whether you’d based your songs about disability on anyone you know? On the B-side ‘At Amber’ you sing about an invalid friend?

“Not really, but I don’t have to know people. It’s a matter of understanding many extreme situations in life. And if you see someone in what we oddly refer to as an unfortunate situation, someone who’s wheelchair bound, if you’re very perceptive and sensitive you can fully imagine the lifelong frustrations of constantly being discussed by other people, and constantly having people being irritatingly kind to you.”

Most other artists in popular music wouldn’t choose to create a pop song from this subject matter.

“They don’t have the capacity to. And it’s the Radio One mentality. Before one examines the level of understanding it’s ‘Oh, wheelchairs? We don’t discuss those things’. And if you want to discuss them you’re perverted and you’re criticising. It’s that attitude that excludes those people that are inverted commas, italics, whatever, less fortunate than the rest of us.”

They’d argue they’re being protective of …

“They’re the type of people who will condemn me for even considering writing a useful song about a person who is inverted commas incapacitated. There are people whose job it is in life to condemn.”

So, do you think the people who criticised you for tackling such sensitive subject matter, simply misunderstood and got the wrong end of the stick?

“That doesn’t matter. The people who have always criticised me still criticise me. There are certain journalists from 1983 to 1990 who could not fill in an application for a passport without mentioning my name.”

But does the condemnation, when it comes, affect your confidence or courage to write about difficult or controversial subjects?

“I don’t personally find it a dilemma; I simply make the record and examine the reception it might receive. I can’t really answer for the creation of the records, they almost lead me, which sounds terribly arty-farty and terribly surreal, but they lead me. The consequences are just something that I have to face.”

Before Morrissey’s performance, I introduced him to the warm and friendly Cathy McGowan, and left them together, reminiscing about Fury, Dusty, Cilla, The Beatles, the Stones and all the other great artists she’d met on Ready, Steady, Go!

Then, when it came time to record his track – sandwiched between Tom Jones’ performing ‘Never Going To Turn You Loose’ and an Amnesty message of support from Kylie – I fetched Morrissey from the dressing room and waited with him just off the studio floor while his band took their positions in front of the Amnesty audience.

While his rockabilly band waited impatiently in their drapes and the crowd noise increased, Morrissey stood quietly, thoughtfully, looking down at his shoes like a nervous child waiting outside the headmaster’s office. Then Cathy MacGowan announced him and the studio lights followed his slow self-conscious walk through the audience and onto the set.

Suddenly, in the spotlight, he seemed transformed, comfortable, overflowing with confidence, as if he’d suddenly become a different person. And perhaps more than any other artist on parade, he’d worked out his performance in advance, probably because it wasn’t naturally easy for him.

I know it was only a television show but without doubt he proved that night that he was one of the best showmen in the business. It’s never been enough for him to simply stand and sing the song, it’s all about performance and, perhaps, like Kenneth Williams, it’s the environment in which he comes alive. And it was funny, too, particularly when he looked over at James and complained in song that he should have been successful instead of them.

Once he’d left the stage, clutching a bouquet off lowers, to the sound of rapturous applause, I grabbed both Morrissey and Tim Booth and took them to the photographic area where they posed together with the Amnesty International symbol; Morrissey caressing the barbed wire around the burning candle.

Afterwards Morrissey seemed pleased with the performance, delighted to have met Cathy McGowan and to have poked fun at James’ chart success, even surprised that worthwhile television events existed beyond Top Of The Pops. Until the BBC launched Later With Jools Holland, he’d seem reluctant to perform on British television again.

Maybe that was my fault. When the programme was transmitted on ITV, to his and James’ great disappointment, ‘Sit Down’ was axed from the running order for time reasons. It wasn’t my decision but I got the blame from Morrissey – after all, his main reason for appearing had disappeared – and from James.*

To add further insult and irritation to Morrissey, when the video of Amnesty International’s Big 30 birthday party was released, the production company got the title of his song wrong, listing it as ‘I Hate It When My Friends Become Successful’. Morrissey, in a message relayed by Jo Slee, was not amused.

I found a version by the 1985 Eurovision song contest winners Bobbysocks.


 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits

Nerak

Reverse Ferret

Ketamine Sun

A Most Misunderstood Member
1991, Amnesty International 30th Anniversary Special:



Couple of interesting things about this performance. As told in detail by Len Brown (see Spoiler below), Morrissey only agreed to appear on the programme on two conditions: James, the likely target of the lyrics, had to appear as well and Lulu had to announce him (she was unavailable and James' performance was cut out from the broadcast, spoiling the joke.)

His outfit is also strangely reminiscent of his later Smiths days with the quiff in turmoil, oversized jacket and his watch facing the inside of his wrist. He even accepts a bouquet of flowers at the end.


Picture of Tim and Moz taken that day

View attachment 67061

So, we’d certainly talked politics a-plenty long before I approached him to appear in the Amnesty International benefit but, partly because of his passionate commitment to the Animal Rights movement, I honestly doubted he’d align himself with a Human Rights organisation.

As usual with Morrissey, it was something surprising and amusing that made him decide to appear at the Amnesty 30th birthday party. While ‘Sing Your Life’, ‘Pregnant For The Last Time’ and ‘My Love Life’ had all struggled to break into the Top 30 in 1991, his old Rough Trade label-mates (and early Smiths-support-act) James – the Manchester band fronted by Tim Booth – had reached number two in the charts with their re-released classic ‘Sit Down’. Only an indie hit back in 1989, ‘Sit Down’ would be voted one of the top-selling records of 1991.

Clearly Morrissey saw an opportunity to get his own back. When he agreed to join the Amnesty International cast-list, via Jo Slee, there were only two conditions for his appearance. Firstly, that we book James. Secondly, that he would be introduced by Lulu.

James eagerly agreed, although they were initially reluctant to do ‘Sit Down’ yet again and would even try to perform an alternative, reggae version of the song at the TV studio event in Nottingham. Lulu, however, was unavailable. Just as well really, as I later found out that Morrissey had only suggested her because of the 1920s comedy song ‘Don’t Bring Lulu’ (written by someone called Lew Brown).

Wrongly assuming Morrissey had never been serious about appearing and thinking he would definitely cancel when I told him Lulu was busy, Morrissey next requested Cathy McGowan, presenter of Sixties pop show Ready, Steady, Go! Billy Fury, one of Morrissey’s great heroes – one of the first British rock’n’roll stars – had appeared on the first episode of the show. Thankfully, for me and for the Amnesty production, McGowan happily agreed to introduce Morrissey in front of the live studio audience.

On a cold December night, a week before Christmas, Morrissey’s new band arrived ahead of their leader. At first sight they seemed an uncouth bunch, dressed in black, tattooed and in high spirits, lugging some of their own gear; the two guitarists and songwriters, Boz Boorer and Alain Whyte, followed by the villainous-looking bassist Gary Day and the drummer boy Spencer Cobrin. After showing them to their dressing room, where they seemed over-impressed with a new fangled Corby Trouser Press, I waited in the foyer for Morrissey, half-expecting him to get out of the saloon car, spot Rick Astley and feign sudden illness at the eleventh hour.

Naturally, he arrived fashionably late, carrying his stage outfit. Briefly, as he arrived, it passed through my mind how un-flashy his entrance was. Whereas most of the other acts seemed to have entourages and management teams and record company employees in tow, Morrissey strolled in alone. We shook hands awkwardly once again. “You’ve aged,” he said, encouragingly. “That’s television for you,” I replied, laughing. As we walked to his dressing room, we heard James begin sound-checking ‘Sit Down’.

After dropping his gear off, we headed towards the canteen and watched James’ performance on the monitors. I thanked Morrissey for agreeing to appear. He admitted that, while he was sympathetic to the work of Amnesty International, he also regarded it as one of those too rare British television opportunities to perform in a different setting with a variety of incompatible acts.

Above all, I realised, he was there because of James. It soon became clear that his latest Wilde-inspired song, ‘We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful’, was targeted at James’ recent triumph – not to mention the marketing success of their famous promotional flower-power T-shirts – and specifically at his old friend, the lead singer Tim Booth.

In the canteen, over a mug of Central TV tea, I talked to Morrissey about other important issues of the day, chiefly the state of the music industry and my ongoing fascination with his choice of lyrically different and difficult subject matter.

Morrissey: “If you’re a genuine artist you have a very powerful, oh God, vision of most situations, whether they be painful as in my case they most often are. It’s simply writing about what one sees. God, I see almost everything …”

LB: You’re beginning to sound like Soul II Soul’s Jazzy B with his (cue band impression of the Funky Dred DJ-ing supremo) “now I see everything” …

“Heaven forbid! You’re aware of the powerful sadness in most situations. You can see beauty in most individuals as well as the other side.”

In the case of ‘Girlfriend In A Coma’ or ‘November Spawned A Monster’ or even ‘Mute Witness’ on Kill Uncle …is it empathy or sympathy?

“It’s one of those words.”

But not pity?

“No, that would be horrible. After ‘November Spawned A Monster’ I had letters from people who were wheelchair-bound and they expressed enormous support and understanding and thanks for the record. It’s not just a matter of ‘thank you for including us because no one else does’ but ‘thank you for involving us in the right way’.”

My mum’s disabled so I was wondering whether you’d based your songs about disability on anyone you know? On the B-side ‘At Amber’ you sing about an invalid friend?

“Not really, but I don’t have to know people. It’s a matter of understanding many extreme situations in life. And if you see someone in what we oddly refer to as an unfortunate situation, someone who’s wheelchair bound, if you’re very perceptive and sensitive you can fully imagine the lifelong frustrations of constantly being discussed by other people, and constantly having people being irritatingly kind to you.”

Most other artists in popular music wouldn’t choose to create a pop song from this subject matter.

“They don’t have the capacity to. And it’s the Radio One mentality. Before one examines the level of understanding it’s ‘Oh, wheelchairs? We don’t discuss those things’. And if you want to discuss them you’re perverted and you’re criticising. It’s that attitude that excludes those people that are inverted commas, italics, whatever, less fortunate than the rest of us.”

They’d argue they’re being protective of …

“They’re the type of people who will condemn me for even considering writing a useful song about a person who is inverted commas incapacitated. There are people whose job it is in life to condemn.”

So, do you think the people who criticised you for tackling such sensitive subject matter, simply misunderstood and got the wrong end of the stick?

“That doesn’t matter. The people who have always criticised me still criticise me. There are certain journalists from 1983 to 1990 who could not fill in an application for a passport without mentioning my name.”

But does the condemnation, when it comes, affect your confidence or courage to write about difficult or controversial subjects?

“I don’t personally find it a dilemma; I simply make the record and examine the reception it might receive. I can’t really answer for the creation of the records, they almost lead me, which sounds terribly arty-farty and terribly surreal, but they lead me. The consequences are just something that I have to face.”

Before Morrissey’s performance, I introduced him to the warm and friendly Cathy McGowan, and left them together, reminiscing about Fury, Dusty, Cilla, The Beatles, the Stones and all the other great artists she’d met on Ready, Steady, Go!

Then, when it came time to record his track – sandwiched between Tom Jones’ performing ‘Never Going To Turn You Loose’ and an Amnesty message of support from Kylie – I fetched Morrissey from the dressing room and waited with him just off the studio floor while his band took their positions in front of the Amnesty audience.

While his rockabilly band waited impatiently in their drapes and the crowd noise increased, Morrissey stood quietly, thoughtfully, looking down at his shoes like a nervous child waiting outside the headmaster’s office. Then Cathy MacGowan announced him and the studio lights followed his slow self-conscious walk through the audience and onto the set.

Suddenly, in the spotlight, he seemed transformed, comfortable, overflowing with confidence, as if he’d suddenly become a different person. And perhaps more than any other artist on parade, he’d worked out his performance in advance, probably because it wasn’t naturally easy for him.

I know it was only a television show but without doubt he proved that night that he was one of the best showmen in the business. It’s never been enough for him to simply stand and sing the song, it’s all about performance and, perhaps, like Kenneth Williams, it’s the environment in which he comes alive. And it was funny, too, particularly when he looked over at James and complained in song that he should have been successful instead of them.

Once he’d left the stage, clutching a bouquet off lowers, to the sound of rapturous applause, I grabbed both Morrissey and Tim Booth and took them to the photographic area where they posed together with the Amnesty International symbol; Morrissey caressing the barbed wire around the burning candle.

Afterwards Morrissey seemed pleased with the performance, delighted to have met Cathy McGowan and to have poked fun at James’ chart success, even surprised that worthwhile television events existed beyond Top Of The Pops. Until the BBC launched Later With Jools Holland, he’d seem reluctant to perform on British television again.

Maybe that was my fault. When the programme was transmitted on ITV, to his and James’ great disappointment, ‘Sit Down’ was axed from the running order for time reasons. It wasn’t my decision but I got the blame from Morrissey – after all, his main reason for appearing had disappeared – and from James.*

To add further insult and irritation to Morrissey, when the video of Amnesty International’s Big 30 birthday party was released, the production company got the title of his song wrong, listing it as ‘I Hate It When My Friends Become Successful’. Morrissey, in a message relayed by Jo Slee, was not amused.

seen this several times before, but the backstory makes it new again.

thanks
:thumb:

a funny man with charming demands

how could anyone refuse?
 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
1997:

hi_1997_satan7_1.jpg
 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
New Year's Eve 1997/1998:

Performing Roy's Keen on The Jack Docherty Show.

 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
I’d love to hear that live again. Saying that, I think hearing anything live would be a high end treat right now. :(
I've been wondering whether the explosion of Youtube videos posted on Central could be any indication of those songs making a return in future live performances.

It's just a guess and it's solely based on the fact that he played At Amber this year after videos of it had appeared in a similar Central post...
 
J

Janice

Guest
I've been wondering whether the explosion of Youtube videos posted on Central could be any indication of those songs making a return in future live performances.

It's just a guess and it's solely based on the fact that he played At Amber this year after videos of it had appeared in a similar Central post...
I’d like to think you’re right. As much as I keep going, I wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Sunday, Suedehead, Ripper, IBEH, in favour of anything that hasn’t been done before or, hasn’t been done for 20+ years.
Can’t recall the At Amber post in Central but, again, hopefully a) we might get a gig in the back end of the year and b) you’re right, Succesful/Roy’s Keen/Boy Racer get an airing.
 

GirlAfraidWillNeverLearn

The Courage to Get on People's Tits
I’d like to think you’re right. As much as I keep going, I wouldn’t be sorry to see the back of Sunday, Suedehead, Ripper, IBEH, in favour of anything that hasn’t been done before or, hasn’t been done for 20+ years.
Can’t recall the At Amber post in Central but, again, hopefully a) we might get a gig in the back end of the year and b) you’re right, Succesful/Roy’s Keen/Boy Racer get an airing.
There was one post with covers of The Boy With The Thorn In His Side and another one with At Amber, both December 2019, both songs played this year.
I think there was one with All The Lazy Dykes earlier this year as well.

If I could choose only one song it would probably be Sing Your Life.
 
J

Janice

Guest
There was one post with covers of The Boy With The Thorn In His Side and another one with At Amber, both December 2019, both songs played this year.
I think there was one with All The Lazy Dykes earlier this year as well.

If I could choose only one song it would probably be Sing Your Life.
Interesting Choice. I honestly don’t know what I’d choose of only one. Possibly one from KU or the other 91 Singles, purely because they’ve never seen the light of day since 91. Plea to Guilty & Loop survived the cull, and its a shame sod all else did; sadly.

if you said 10 choices, that would have been a little fairer (until I’m stuck at 9) :paranoid:
 
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