Morrissey played his I am accursed and reviled card so assiduously with the Smiths throughout the 80s that eventually people took him at his word, deciding that his extravagant tragi-vegetarian rock was a minority taste for weirdos. After seven years of brooding internal exile in Los Angeles, You Are the Quarry might not make Moz a household name, but its his best album since Vauxhall & I a decade ago. Morrissey sounds reinvigorated, and if his themes arent incendiary (policemen, lesbians, his new Hispanic fans, U.S. foreign and dietary policy), theyre lit up by precision musicianship and (sacrilege!) burbling electronics. Self-Pity City is a desirable destination once more.
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