29/11/2018

Johnny Marr

Fabrique, Milan

by Mauro Caproni

Backstory

Johnny Marr's day in Milan starts early, with a visit to a store for a signing session tied to his recent autobiography. Widows of the Smiths family, mods of a bygone era and nostalgic britpoppers line up in orderly fashion – manuscript under one arm, vintage vinyl under the other – waiting their turn for the package on offer from the House, namely photos, the usual bit of small talk and the inevitable autograph. Kisses, hugs and goodbyes.

We usually picture great stars as modern-day Jupiters, handsome, tall and strapping, because that's how they look on stage or in videos. So imagine the surprise and general disbelief when, punctual as a Juventus title, a tiny little man materializes in the room, thin as an anchovy under a helmet of black hair, skinny Lupin-style legs and the regulation biker jacket. You almost struggle to recognize, in this little sparrow, the guitar hero who, whatever you make of him, has influenced the last 30 years of British pop, inventing a way of playing guitar that became a whole school of thought, posture included.

You'll agree with me that it would be belittling – branding as a minor artist (heaven forbid!) a man who wrote all the music for the Smiths, including a dozen riffs that are part of pop history – a bit like finding similarities between Modà and Einsturzende Neubauten.

People say: but after the end of the Manchester saga he dropped off the radar. In truth, the – secondary – role of prestigious session man that's been pinned on him is highly debatable, and should be handled with care.

On that note, ring the buzzer for Pet Shop Boys, "Behaviour" intercom. That is, the most sophisticated record the esteemed Tennant/Lowe firm ever put out, clearly influenced by Him. Or the Electronic project, set up together with that other little genius Bernard Sumner, capable of selling a million copies with its self-titled debut album. And then there's Modest Mouse, where he's both producer and member, who hit number one on Billboard in 2007 (that is, on the US charts, since we're not exactly talking about San Marino here).

There's not even any need to bring up the countless outside collaborations.

Wherever he's set his paws – guitar, ideas and arrangements – Johnny "Toothpick" has always left his mark, on the charts and with critics. Postulate #1.

All the more so now that he's gone solo. A new creative phase, arrived almost by chance around the time he turned 50, which has so far produced three excellent albums, and a handful of songs that would have had no trouble fitting into the family songbook.

Concert

Marr arrives at the Fabrique to present the new "Call The Comet", released last summer. He walks on stage before even 9pm (extra points to the organizers for cutting out pointless, unknown opening acts that most of the time just drag out the running time), welcomed like a modern-day hero, picking up the six-string he won't put down for a single moment over the full two hours of the show, because what's born round can't die square. Postulate #2.

La setlist draws generously from the new album, interspersed here and there with the classics Smiths and a couple of slick episodes credited to Electronic. The band does its job well, the sound is tight and powerful thanks to a rock-solid rhythm section, and the vocals are direct, sincere, without a single slip. Any attempt to venture comparisons with the vocal timbre of Morrissey amounts to nothing more than a sterile provocation, best sent straight back to sender without further debate.

It's a spirited Marr, at ease in the unexpected role of frontman, the one who jokes and banters with the crowd between songs: he sings the praises of "Madchester disco" when introducing "Getting Away With It" and the obsessive "New Dominions", underpinned by pads electronics with a pulse that leads straight back to early Fad Gadget; at the explicit request of the front rows he hints at the riffs of "This Charming Man", though it's abandoned almost immediately (you don't play with feelings, old boy, someone might have dropped dead on the spot), before launching into "Last Night I Dreamed That Somebody Loved Me".

The law of poetic justice shows no mercy in our case: Johnny is a happy, fulfilled artist. It shows in the way he moves, in what he says, in "every breath he takes" (op. cit.. And while he keeps climbing, good old Moz carries on his descent into a spiral that's hard to make sense of, amid inexplicable touchiness, shows and tours cancelled over trivial matters, vegan extremism and the sovereigntist causes of which he increasingly appoints himself spokesman.Postulate #3.

The encore reaches levels of total emotional pathos , hearts racing like a frequency meter gone haywire on "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby" and above all "There Is A Light That Never Goes Out", the perfect pop song, with its cult line "and if a double-decker bus crashes into us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die" – an anthem for an entire generation – belted out in loop first on stage and then a cappella by theaudience all of it. And it's chills.

Live well, Johnny "Stecchino," pay them no mind, just look and move on. Keats and Yeats will always be on your side.

Ride the wave of great music

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Mauro Caproni, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition

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