THE WIZARD OF MOZZ: Morrissey, The Mann, Last Night
BY A.D. AMOROSI FOR THE INQUIRER As Brit-pop’s patron saint of things smartly smarmy, sexually obsessive and shyly sensitive, Morrissey — regarded as divine since he fronted the Smiths from 1982 to 1987 — has become more iconic with each solo effort. It’s odd, then, that an idol so untouchable has grown more willing than ever to engage his feverish fans. Take his show on Monday at the Mann Center. With a graying, spiky pompadour and a thicker middle than in his waifish youth, Morrissey, 48, may appear more pope than saint. But he was joviality personified. He joked with fans whom he passed his mike, pulled faces like a kid, and threw more than few snazzy dress shirts into the throng. His warbly voice may have been a bit raw (Moz canceled earlier dates in Philly and Atlantic City due to illness). But that edge only added huskiness to his snide, incendiary lyrics. MORE
[Photo by JONATHAN VALANIA]