MORRISSEY - Make-up Is A Lie

There's a constant running through Morrissey's poetic exhortations, namely the need to be loved: the former Smiths frontman had already pointed it out in 1987 with “Unlovable”, “I know I'm unlovable, you don't have to tell me”, having already expressed it in 1985 in “How Soon Is Now”, “I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does”. So it's hardly a surprise that on the track opening his new album, the English musician underlines the same point in an even darker, sterner tone: “I want to let someone love me, if they can”.

There is, however, a difference between the subversive exhortations of his early years and the more emphatic, circumstantial tone of the lyrics to “You're Right, It's Time”: what precedes the line in question feels more like a summing-up than a hope for the future: “I want to get away from those who stare at screens all day, I want to speak and not be trapped by censorship, in search of a wisdom far wiser than my own”. It's a reflection that seems to stem from the love-hate relationship that has built up between the British artist and his audience — but above all with critics, given the success of his recent tours — to the point that one wonders whether anyone has ever truly loved Morrissey.

“Make-Up Is A Lie” arrives six years after “I'm Not A Dog On A Chain”, and is an album made up largely of songs salvaged from one of two projects rejected by his former label, “Without Music The World Dies”, while another album, “Bonfire Of The Teenagers”, remains shelved and is unlikely to ever see the light of day; if it does, it will only be after extensive reworking, partly due to Miley Cyrus's request to remove the material she recorded as a guest on the project.

The reception from critics and part of the audience for "Make-Up Is A Lie" has all the hallmarks of a divorce case: comments dripping with bitterness and disappointment, alongside the triumphant tones of the most loyal fans, have muddied the waters even further. All the love for the Smiths and for some of Morrissey's solo excursions has given way to an almost visceral hatred that clouds and distorts perception of the record.

For those who consider "You're The Quarry" Moz's last great album, and for those who appreciated the mature showing of "World Peace Is None Of Your Business", this new record represents the definitive dividing line between past and present. In many ways "Make-Up Is A Lie" can sound discouraging, frustrating, uneven. The absence of Boz Boorer after 30 years of collaboration is palpable, and the shift from lively, malleable sounds to darker, heavier tones scrapes away those last remaining traces of lightness that had kept the uneven "I'm Not A Dog On A Chain" afloat. Yet despite everything, Morrissey's fourteenth album is not the disaster that was foretold.

With a voice increasingly reminiscent of a crooner, Moz frames songs that aren't always memorable while elevating the few tracks worthy of joining an already fairly rich songbook.

The first notable musical element lies in the impeccable, if at times overly fussy, production by Joe Chiccarelli, along with the trip-hop flourishes that stir the waters of the title track, a cinematic, dramatic uptempo ballad complete with zither and violin ready to heighten its emotional pitch. Similar sounds return on "Headache", where an agile contrast between the swaying melody and the sound of the xylophone underscores lyrics decidedly unfit for romance.

The controversial "Notre Dame", with its disco-wave gait reminiscent of "How Soon Is Now" but decidedly blander, and the Johnny Marr-esque guitar work of "You're Right, It's Time" ease the transition from past to present, while the brooding "Boulevard" remains caught in that dramaturgical grandiloquence that animates much of the album, even as it aspires to future glory on the live stage.

Anonymous tracks ("Kerching, Kerching"), if not outright irritating ones ("The Night Pop Dropped"), drag the listener into mainstream sounds as polished as they are superficial, which find no relief even in the unfortunate fun-pop patchwork of "Zoom Zoom The Little Boy" (a shame, since the sitar intro had raised hopes...).

Luckily, a couple of tracks placed near the end salvage the album's fortunes: the first is "Lester Bangs", one of the record's most intriguing compositions, a heartfelt and inspired tribute to the famed American critic, melodically precise and free of rhetoric, a song that is a knowing journey through memory, turning back the clock much like the not entirely successful cover of Roxy Music's "Amazona"; but it's "The Monsters Of Pig Alley" that is the true hidden gem, arranged with class and grit, a shrewd reflection on music and on the false glory of becoming a star, with a superb interplay between electric guitar and piano, while the song's fluidity dissolves that sense of confusion and weariness that pervades part of the album.

The most loyal fans are obviously already up in arms, ready to defend Morrissey's fourteenth offering tooth and nail, but "Make-up Is A Lie" is simply a good record, crafted with skill and just enough ideas, not without moments of reflection and potential future developments, even if the lion's roar increasingly resembles a timid, beguiling meow.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

11/03/2026