Review: House of Blues crowd falls for icon Morrissey

Spencer Patterson

Monday, Sept. 9, 2002 | 8:23 a.m.

"This is my life, Nevada."

With a hint of his trademark irony, British pop icon Morrissey announced his intentions to his devoted throng of fans Saturday night: a look back through his storied two-decade career.

Beginning at the beginning, with The Smiths' "I Want the One I Can't Have," the legendary vocalist went on to delight his House of Blues audience for the next 1 1/2 hours with a varied, high-energy set.

Although it has been five years since the release of his most recent album, Morrissey retains unwavering support from his followers, selling out his two Las Vegas shows in a matter of days.

Those faithful supporters were in fine form on Night Two, lining up early for a shot at a good spot on the floor and chanting Morrissey's name as the house lights dimmed.

And the moody, oft-misunderstood singer/songwriter gave his fans what they came for: full-on Morrissey.

Appropriately dressed in all-black (as was a large segment of the crowd), the 43-year-old showed off his arsenal of flamboyant stage antics. And with each twirl of his mike chord, dour facial expression or suggestive hand gesture, Morrissey sent his audience into a frenzy.

A series of cryptic, off-beat remarks that might just as easily have been lyrics off one of his albums completed the picture over the course of the evening.

A sampling:

"Thank you for crawling back."

"You have always been fantastically attractive, and I'm proud to be associated with you."

"I'm an old 50s rocker named Fabian."

"I told you last night, if you want me to hear you, you'd better take your teeth out."

Most important, Morrissey crooned his 17 numbers with the same strong voice that first made him famous during the early 1980s with the seminal post-punk outfit The Smiths. Haunting and wistful, his vocals remain some of the most distinctive in pop music, be it in a live or studio setting.

After singing along during "Hairdresser on Fire" and "Suedehead" -- two songs Morrissey's 1988's solo debut "Viva Hate" -- the crowd settled into the background a bit, allowing Morrissey and his four-piece band to strut their stuff.

Upbeat favorites such as "Everyday is Like Sunday" and "November Spawned a Monster" were contrasted with such darker compositions as "Jack the Ripper," during which Morrissey stared at the ceiling and rocked backward to add to the tune's eerie effect.

Touring for the first time in three years, Morrissey also took the opportunity to present new material, debuting four songs likely to appear on his next album.

"First of the Gang to Die" and "Mexico" were the strongest of the quartet, though all four seemed at home in a set filled largely with vintage hits.

Morrissey's backing band, which often sounds like an afterthought on solo releases intended to emphasize his vocals, offered more than compotent support.

Drummer Dean Butterworth and bassist Gary Day provided oomph for hard-driving songs such as "Alsatian Cousin" and "Speedway," while guitarists Alain White and Boz Boorer took turns adding brief solos to the mix.

The Smiths' pro-vegetarian anthem "Meat Is Murder" -- performed under blood-red houselights -- highlighted the end of the set, as Morrissey rolled around the stage in mock pain while Boorer played screeching guitar chords above him.

"Now, if we could get serious for a moment," Morrissey deadpanned after getting up.

As the musicians left the stage, the only complaint was of the setlist, which reportedly did not vary one iota from the previous night. But the fans who attended both House of Blues shows seemed far too ecstatic to complain about much of anything.

During the encore, the audience's enthusiasm finally got the best of it, as several of those close to the front tried to climb onstage. Initially bemused by the events, Morrissey ultimately fled midway through The Smiths' "There is a Light That Never Goes Out," rushing away with security in tow.

With a simple, "Thank you," he was gone, leaving bewildered band members to finish the song, sans vocals. And, of course, leaving his audience with one last bit of melodrama to keep them satisfied until next time.