The Redemption of Saint Morrissey

It might just be that the patron saint of adolescent sexual frustration and malaise got tired of the shtick that made him so popular. From his pompadoured, "asexual" persona as the head of the Smiths to a decade of self-indulgent solo albums, Morrissey became very predictable. His album covers would feature a near-exact design, his song titles would be ridiculously wordy and the actual music would be relatively unremarkable.\nThat's changed. Morrissey hasn't sounded this inspired since Viva Hate. In fact, songs like "Irish Blood, English Heart" actually rock -- I would venture to say that Alain Whyte has finally proven to be a better co-writer than Stephen Street ever was (despite his helping to write "Suedehead"), and Morrissey finally manages to come across as being more honest than coy. "How Can Anyone Possibly Know How I Feel?" is indicative of this album as a whole: it retains Morrissey's biting, verbose lyrics (and titles) and manages to be catchy at the same time. In fact, its guitar work sounds very similar to that of a brand-new band from Morrissey's dear Britain: Franz Ferdinand. The ability to confuse Morrissey's music with that of a band bursting with youthful vitality is a very, very pleasing thing.\nThis is the best work Morrissey has done in years, and it is most likely his best solo work yet. It's nice to see him finally step outside of his tired old formula; if this is his swan song, he's going out on a really high note.