He hugs himself and sways back and forth in place with his eyes closed when he sings the mumbly part at the end, it's very beautiful to witness.
It was indeed.
From a week ago tonight, my own view ~
"And so to 'Asleep'. What can one actually say? Where to begin? I knew that it was coming. I knew that it had been set-listed for the aborted South American tour last year. And yet, as ever, knowledge is not enough, and could not have prepared me for the song's effect tonight. The general drunken yawping and hubub behind me at the bar, and on my shoulder, is quashed within one verse, as people just shut the f*** up and are mesmerised by a stately piano, a weeping guitar, percussion softer than the beat of my heart, and one human singing voice. Hypnotised by the complexity and the simplicity of the expression of a single human heart.
Over the course of this last year I've found myself singing this song to myself more often than I care to remember. It is a song that has consoled me, hurt me, healed me, offended me, shamed me, confused and confounded me. It's a song that has saved my life. Sappy, I know; but there you go. All of that comes back to me, five thousand miles from all that I've left behind - ha! - and I am shivering in this heat. The words become almost meaningless - as in a Hindu chant. I am watching the pale blue blanket of light falling down across the stage, while a pure white beam of light rotates across the contours of Morrissey's face from stage right, cloaking his eyes in deep shadow. One can only imagine the depths. As he sings the words there is an uncanny amalgam of distance and intimacy about him. He appears to be singing out across and above the audience and to a place or a person at some remove from here. Yet the further away that I feel him to be, the greater the connectedness I feel to the words he sings. He seems gone; oblivious to the hushed awe of the crowd or the occasional squeal of ecstatic abandon (not me. I think.) Whether as a result of having to shut himself off to get through it, or whether he's back in the same headspace he was in at the time of writing these words, I have no clue.
On previous tours there have always been a couple of songs in the set that have filled this function, what I called the dark jewels at the heart of a set. 'I Know It's Over' was a classic example, 'Please, Please, Please Let me Get What I Want' was another. As I said before I can't work out how he does this thing he does ~ the day that I do I'd imagine everything will be finished. The fact that he can do this each time out, this access to and deep connection with his own emotion, and simultaneous expression of that emotion, so powerfully and purely, is not a reason to doubt the truth of what he does. It is proof for me of the genius.
Of all these songs across all the recent tours this one, this night, has the most powerful effect on me, and I can't shake myself free of this uncanny sense of far gone distance entwined with the most intimate psychological closeness. It truly feels like some kind of zenith of his live art.
He micro-whispers a refrain of 'bye bye' and spends the remainder of the song with his left arm braced across his heart, left hand gripping right shoulder. His shadowed eyes are downcast and he is as still as the grave as the song comes to a close. He resembles nothing so much as the statue atop some handsome headstone as Gustavo adds his heartbreaking child's piano outro. As the song ends one could hear a needle drop from your eye, let alone a tear."
It was indeed.
From a week ago tonight, my own view ~
"And so to 'Asleep'. What can one actually say? Where to begin? I knew that it was coming. I knew that it had been set-listed for the aborted South American tour last year. And yet, as ever, knowledge is not enough, and could not have prepared me for the song's effect tonight. The general drunken yawping and hubub behind me at the bar, and on my shoulder, is quashed within one verse, as people just shut the f*** up and are mesmerised by a stately piano, a weeping guitar, percussion softer than the beat of my heart, and one human singing voice. Hypnotised by the complexity and the simplicity of the expression of a single human heart.
Over the course of this last year I've found myself singing this song to myself more often than I care to remember. It is a song that has consoled me, hurt me, healed me, offended me, shamed me, confused and confounded me. It's a song that has saved my life. Sappy, I know; but there you go. All of that comes back to me, five thousand miles from all that I've left behind - ha! - and I am shivering in this heat. The words become almost meaningless - as in a Hindu chant. I am watching the pale blue blanket of light falling down across the stage, while a pure white beam of light rotates across the contours of Morrissey's face from stage right, cloaking his eyes in deep shadow. One can only imagine the depths. As he sings the words there is an uncanny amalgam of distance and intimacy about him. He appears to be singing out across and above the audience and to a place or a person at some remove from here. Yet the further away that I feel him to be, the greater the connectedness I feel to the words he sings. He seems gone; oblivious to the hushed awe of the crowd or the occasional squeal of ecstatic abandon (not me. I think.) Whether as a result of having to shut himself off to get through it, or whether he's back in the same headspace he was in at the time of writing these words, I have no clue.
On previous tours there have always been a couple of songs in the set that have filled this function, what I called the dark jewels at the heart of a set. 'I Know It's Over' was a classic example, 'Please, Please, Please Let me Get What I Want' was another. As I said before I can't work out how he does this thing he does ~ the day that I do I'd imagine everything will be finished. The fact that he can do this each time out, this access to and deep connection with his own emotion, and simultaneous expression of that emotion, so powerfully and purely, is not a reason to doubt the truth of what he does. It is proof for me of the genius.
Of all these songs across all the recent tours this one, this night, has the most powerful effect on me, and I can't shake myself free of this uncanny sense of far gone distance entwined with the most intimate psychological closeness. It truly feels like some kind of zenith of his live art.
He micro-whispers a refrain of 'bye bye' and spends the remainder of the song with his left arm braced across his heart, left hand gripping right shoulder. His shadowed eyes are downcast and he is as still as the grave as the song comes to a close. He resembles nothing so much as the statue atop some handsome headstone as Gustavo adds his heartbreaking child's piano outro. As the song ends one could hear a needle drop from your eye, let alone a tear."
It was indeed.
From a week ago tonight, my own view ~
"And so to 'Asleep'. What can one actually say? Where to begin? I knew that it was coming. I knew that it had been set-listed for the aborted South American tour last year. And yet, as ever, knowledge is not enough, and could not have prepared me for the song's effect tonight. The general drunken yawping and hubub behind me at the bar, and on my shoulder, is quashed within one verse, as people just shut the f*** up and are mesmerised by a stately piano, a weeping guitar, percussion softer than the beat of my heart, and one human singing voice. Hypnotised by the complexity and the simplicity of the expression of a single human heart.
Over the course of this last year I've found myself singing this song to myself more often than I care to remember. It is a song that has consoled me, hurt me, healed me, offended me, shamed me, confused and confounded me. It's a song that has saved my life. Sappy, I know; but there you go. All of that comes back to me, five thousand miles from all that I've left behind - ha! - and I am shivering in this heat. The words become almost meaningless - as in a Hindu chant. I am watching the pale blue blanket of light falling down across the stage, while a pure white beam of light rotates across the contours of Morrissey's face from stage right, cloaking his eyes in deep shadow. One can only imagine the depths. As he sings the words there is an uncanny amalgam of distance and intimacy about him. He appears to be singing out across and above the audience and to a place or a person at some remove from here. Yet the further away that I feel him to be, the greater the connectedness I feel to the words he sings. He seems gone; oblivious to the hushed awe of the crowd or the occasional squeal of ecstatic abandon (not me. I think.) Whether as a result of having to shut himself off to get through it, or whether he's back in the same headspace he was in at the time of writing these words, I have no clue.
On previous tours there have always been a couple of songs in the set that have filled this function, what I called the dark jewels at the heart of a set. 'I Know It's Over' was a classic example, 'Please, Please, Please Let me Get What I Want' was another. As I said before I can't work out how he does this thing he does ~ the day that I do I'd imagine everything will be finished. The fact that he can do this each time out, this access to and deep connection with his own emotion, and simultaneous expression of that emotion, so powerfully and purely, is not a reason to doubt the truth of what he does. It is proof for me of the genius.
Of all these songs across all the recent tours this one, this night, has the most powerful effect on me, and I can't shake myself free of this uncanny sense of far gone distance entwined with the most intimate psychological closeness. It truly feels like some kind of zenith of his live art.
He micro-whispers a refrain of 'bye bye' and spends the remainder of the song with his left arm braced across his heart, left hand gripping right shoulder. His shadowed eyes are downcast and he is as still as the grave as the song comes to a close. He resembles nothing so much as the statue atop some handsome headstone as Gustavo adds his heartbreaking child's piano outro. As the song ends one could hear a needle drop from your eye, let alone a tear."
It was indeed.
From a week ago tonight, my own view ~
"And so to 'Asleep'. What can one actually say? Where to begin? I knew that it was coming. I knew that it had been set-listed for the aborted South American tour last year. And yet, as ever, knowledge is not enough, and could not have prepared me for the song's effect tonight. The general drunken yawping and hubub behind me at the bar, and on my shoulder, is quashed within one verse, as people just shut the f*** up and are mesmerised by a stately piano, a weeping guitar, percussion softer than the beat of my heart, and one human singing voice. Hypnotised by the complexity and the simplicity of the expression of a single human heart.
Over the course of this last year I've found myself singing this song to myself more often than I care to remember. It is a song that has consoled me, hurt me, healed me, offended me, shamed me, confused and confounded me. It's a song that has saved my life. Sappy, I know; but there you go. All of that comes back to me, five thousand miles from all that I've left behind - ha! - and I am shivering in this heat. The words become almost meaningless - as in a Hindu chant. I am watching the pale blue blanket of light falling down across the stage, while a pure white beam of light rotates across the contours of Morrissey's face from stage right, cloaking his eyes in deep shadow. One can only imagine the depths. As he sings the words there is an uncanny amalgam of distance and intimacy about him. He appears to be singing out across and above the audience and to a place or a person at some remove from here. Yet the further away that I feel him to be, the greater the connectedness I feel to the words he sings. He seems gone; oblivious to the hushed awe of the crowd or the occasional squeal of ecstatic abandon (not me. I think.) Whether as a result of having to shut himself off to get through it, or whether he's back in the same headspace he was in at the time of writing these words, I have no clue.
On previous tours there have always been a couple of songs in the set that have filled this function, what I called the dark jewels at the heart of a set. 'I Know It's Over' was a classic example, 'Please, Please, Please Let me Get What I Want' was another. As I said before I can't work out how he does this thing he does ~ the day that I do I'd imagine everything will be finished. The fact that he can do this each time out, this access to and deep connection with his own emotion, and simultaneous expression of that emotion, so powerfully and purely, is not a reason to doubt the truth of what he does. It is proof for me of the genius.
Of all these songs across all the recent tours this one, this night, has the most powerful effect on me, and I can't shake myself free of this uncanny sense of far gone distance entwined with the most intimate psychological closeness. It truly feels like some kind of zenith of his live art.
He micro-whispers a refrain of 'bye bye' and spends the remainder of the song with his left arm braced across his heart, left hand gripping right shoulder. His shadowed eyes are downcast and he is as still as the grave as the song comes to a close. He resembles nothing so much as the statue atop some handsome headstone as Gustavo adds his heartbreaking child's piano outro. As the song ends one could hear a needle drop from your eye, let alone a tear."
I have to agree. This was the highlight of the show. I was in tears and Moz was so beautiful and looked so vulnerable in his white shirt. I wanted to hold him.
I have to agree. This was the highlight of the show. I was in tears and Moz was so beautiful and looked so vulnerable in his white shirt. I wanted to hold him.
Pardon my ignorance, as I am a brand new fan, but is it true Asleep was performed only once by The Smiths? If so, what show? Is it true the song ended with Morrissey on the middle of the stage in the fetal position?