Somewhere there’s a someone who can soothe me – a guest post by Trina Rain

I won’t use the word “performance” as I know He doesn’t like it, and I must agree.

At a Morrissey concert, there’s showmanship, glamour, and comical theatrics, but it never feels like a performance. It’s real and raw – His siren song calls to us, urging us ever forward in staggering, stuttered steps… no one else can so eloquently name our pain.

He is a lyrical genius, a savant of the best kind. The irony that Morrissey is a wordSmith, does not escape me. He seems to live out all our lives. How does he know what I went through, how I felt, what I thought?  Lyrics that should mean little to me are interpreted and claimed instead.  All that pain, anguish, despair, and sadness is summed up in a way that I, personally, struggle to express. I just don’t possess the words. To try, would be a clumsy, fumbling tumble of cliches.

It’s a rare talent for a total stranger to vocalise what aligns with your innermost thoughts; sometimes things too shameful for you to hold up to the light and examine for yourself.  So therefore, Morrissey has to be mystical and other-worldly – there’s no other possible explanation!

Like a horoscope, that can be manipulated to fit your circumstances, even songs that seem nonsensical – we twist those words around like a Rubik’s Cube until we find the theme that our ego can use to make it “all about me”.

At Morrissey shows, I can sing along, and nod and think, “YES! He gets it. He gets Me!”

Even though our lives couldn’t be more different, the themes of isolation, loneliness, and a deep sadness within, that nothing can fill….so you thought – until you see Him in front of you, and you hear that magnificent voice in person.

No recording could have prepared me for hearing His voice live for the first time, and it changed the way I heard the recordings forever after.

“So, if I see you, and I tell you how I’ve watched you – don’t make fun of me later”, is something I’m sure every single devoted fan can relate to – Morrissey seems accessible when he’s on stage – you can touch him, grab his trousers, rub his shoes – even clamber up there and embrace him – but he’s totally untouchable.

And that vacant space inside us is briefly full, and even as you grieve the ending of the show with each song that is completed, there are also priceless seconds where you can just surrender… suspend all reality and gaze upon Him as the music resonates in your bones. “Now My Heart is Full” …

And that is what is addictive and what I now chase – to recapture those seconds when I quite literally experience an awakening. A primitive message deep in my brain that shakes me into life. “At Last! I Am Born!”

At a Morrissey show I can scream and cry and fall to the ground if I want to. I will be hugged and kissed by happy queuers reunited – and I also feel more fulfilled and enriched then I ever have from therapy!

But then the dread starts to creep in, just like the Jack the Ripper fog… as each song concludes, you know it will be over soon, and the house lights will come up, and in a stupor, you will fumble your way over sticky floors and crunching plastic cups and ask yourself – did that really just happen?

And only when you are locked and bolted in your hotel room, can you draw out your phone and pour over the photos that you felt very rude for taking, but truly, you just wanted to try and capture the quicksilver magic.

And little snippets of videos, because you don’t want Him antagonised, and you really want to be present in the moment, but can’t resist – because this is a new song, so this is history in the making… or this is an old song that is a favourite of mine, and therefore is a part of my history…

So past and present spin and weave to form a future, where every honeyed word is lapped up and in the awkward silences all anyone can ever think to yell out is:

“We love you Morrissey!”

Oh yes, we do.