The man, the myth, the legend’s eighth studio album has Morrissey looking grey and somewhat wrinkled, but never sounding better (especially after his last two clunkers). Always the charmer, Morrissey shows up here brandishing a semi-automatic weapon and a stunning purple pinstriped suit. Setting the scene for “America Is Not the World”, a scathing indictment of a bloated nation, in the typical polite, dry-witted English humor this guy has spent 20 years transforming into an art form. At times his age shows, getting a little too pensive for the new breed of Smiths fans, no doubt, but probably weakening the knees of those who have been with him since the beginning. As for me, Morrissey can absolutely do no wrong. Those silky smooth pipes, the caustic sense of humor, and all-around demeanor of the man. Love him and this new album to bits.
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