Tuesday, October 10th, 2017

Morrissey – Spent the Day in Bed

While visions of controversy danced in his head…


Iain Mew: Hmm, I wonder why Morrissey would want to advise people to disengage politically? This is sub-specious. 

Katie Gill: Jesus Christ, when you think Morrissey can’t be even more of a parody of himself, this song comes out. This is just peak Morrissey, pretentious existentialism wrapped in so much gloom that Eeyore would tell him to cut it out a little. The biggest crime of all is that you know someone out there is interpreting that chorus through a #fakenews lens and writing their think-piece as we speak.

Thomas Inskeep: A new Morrissey song based around electric piano? With trombones and violins in addition to his usual, long-serving, crack band? I will happily take it. This sounds just different enough from his recent work, yet still Morrissey enough, to be fresh. Sure, his lyrics used to be his strongest suit, but they’re not anymore (and haven’t been for a while), and I can accept that. Musically this is marvelous; Moz has been working with Joe Chiccarelli long enough now, that they seem to have a musical understanding. For all of this, I’m quite glad. 

Hazel Robinson: I nearly didn’t listen to this, so convinced my review would merely be “for fuck’s sake” — it is, completely, but also the perma-frustrating “for FUCK’S sake” of a rehabilitated Morrissey fan because this is fucking GREAT, from the lovely, grim lyricism of “I’m not my type/but I love my bed” going into a chorus more on-point than anyone who reps for UKIP should ever be allowed to be. Jaunty tracks about how life is garbage and we should all just stay in bed masturbating is my fucking jam and now fucking Morrissey is, like, denting the pillow next to me. Grief. I just want to be allowed to millennially decline (although of course, in the gig economy, staying in bed all day unless it’s because you’ve had to turn the heating off is strictly a previous-generation’s luxury) without this man turning up and inadvertently writing a relatable anthem about it. 

Anthony Easton: Sometimes clever self-indulgence curdles into cheap narcissism, especially when the writing is stupider than it’s ever been. 

Edward Okulicz: There’s this thing Morrissey started to do a while ago — and has just kept getting more frequent as his good songs have become less frequent — where his voice gets all smug and preachy, like he’s doling out wisdom that you simply must listen to, and it is extremely unbecoming. And he unleashes it right at the worst moment — “stop watching the news.” Apparently it makes you feel small. And let me tell you, just this once, he’s the expert.

Alfred Soto: He doesn’t sing as if gargling through hot cement, and he doesn’t overplay the lyrical wink toward masturbation. The electric piano marks the first such prominent part since the early nineties. So… what then? His best single since “The First of the Gang to Die.” But to listen to Morrissey as if several years of repulsive statements to the press were intended as classic-era bon mots requires ignoring the coquettish way in which he demands political disengagement: if you ignore the hateful things I say, you’ll have a better time. He reminds me of too many deluded fools in my life who pine for a color blind society. Still, it’s a catchy motherfucker.

Alex Clifton: I can’t take this song seriously because: (a) there’s a boingy-sounding synth that sounds like Tigger bouncing around, which is a weird sonic detail; (b) Morrissey’s lyricism is about as embarrassing as it always has been (“I love my bed”; “in sheets for which I paid/I am now laid”; “no bus, no boss, no rain, no train/no emasculation, no castration”); (c) I’ll be damned if anyone in 2017 tells me to entirely ignore the news, because the world’s on fire and that’s not something I can take sitting down. In another year, I might be charmed, but I’m maddened that anyone would have the audacity to release a song like this (and a decently catchy song at that, too) in this political environment. Morrissey will be fine in his comfortable sheets, and I’m annoyed about it.

William John: “Ignorance is bliss,” in the sense that sequestration from certain forms of media is an appropriate response given their preponderance to contrive the truth to suit their own agenda, is a mantra sometimes espoused by the self-designated “enlightened.” It’s deliberately myopic, and ignores the fact that many do not have the luxury or privilege to be able to switch off from politics. It’s the sort of creed favoured by those that disapprove of politics mixing with other things like music or sports, forgetting that whether we like or realise it or not, almost every decision we make as human beings is grounded in politics in some way. Morrissey, who after a long career of anarchy now simply seems determined to place himself as counterpoint no matter the subject matter, advocates for this ignorance in “Spent the Day in Bed”. It’s a disappointing enough position even without the insipid instrumentation he pairs it with.

Joshua Copperman: I’m not sure how I feel about the lyrics, which seem to condone Tina-Fey-sheetcake behavior. Because this is Morrissey, there are some hints of irony and awareness here – “I’m not my type but I love my bed”, “as the workers stayed enslaved”, but it’s hard to buy into the sentiment when simply ignoring the news is just about impossible at this point. At least in America, if you’re a group directly targeted by this current administration, you need to pay attention (can you be protected by civil rights laws, can you be sure that your employer will cover insurance for birth control…) What really saves this, though, is the massive production, with heavily compressed drums and a surprisingly funky Wurlitzer riff doing the extra work of creating a deadpan atmosphere when Moz doesn’t go far enough.

Katherine St Asaph: I’m sure the answer to this is “earlier than you think,” but when the hell did Morrissey start sounding like Twenty-One Pilots?

Rebecca A. Gowns: Morrissey has long since devolved into self-parody and is now in prime Old Man Morrissey mode. “Spent the Day in Bed” is the natural ridiculous progression after songs like “Don’t Make Fun of Daddy’s Voice,” “I’m OK By Myself,” “Dear God Please Help Me,” “You Have Killed Me” — he’s aware of the joke, thank you very much, but that won’t stop him from being extremely serious about it regardless. Oh! I’ll just spend the day in bed in my luxurious morose pajamas and hand-write letters to friends about how I don’t watch the news, I don’t even own a TV. Yes, it’s a character, “Morrissey,” but it’s also… clearly… Morrissey.

Reader average: [7.5] (2 votes)

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2 Responses to “Morrissey – Spent the Day in Bed”

  1. @Katherine: What Twenty One Pilots song were you referring to? My only guess is “Holding On To You” because of the similar opening.

  2. no specific song, just the general feel. I don’t know what I was expecting exactly (I’ve listened to more Marr solo) but it definitely wasn’t that

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