It may not have been the most literate statement of his career, but I found it hilarious and appreciated such honesty. I had never heard music like it, and it was a world away from the insipid garbage that is all over the radio waves. The man’s music was saying something, through unusual phrases and words, in the sweetest, slow burning way.
This is where an infatuation with words really began and my introduction to Morrissey undoubtedly rekindled an interest in the writers I had studied at school, who in turn provided comfort through their work during the sad times. My dad says that I always look for the words in music. If he doesn’t like something that I am listening to, he’ll say: ‘I take it this is about the words’.
Morrissey came along at a good time. This weird sounding man became a helpful diversion. And how strange it felt that someone I didn’t know could communicate with me through a song better than some of my friends and family. In the midst of our loss - my mum died of cancer in 2000 - I was neither there for them nor they for me. There was seldom any talking to each other about it, except fleetingly and superficially.
The Never Played Symphonies, an elegiac B-side from the You Are The Quarry album, hears him reflect from his death bed on the varying undulations of his existence, and almost regretfully imagine the people who may have felt connected to him, or touched by him. It is a theme that hits home: how much better off would we be if we could gain insight into the perception of others? Perhaps not a lot, but we'd know at least.
Morrissey has the ability to write the most subtle melody, which perhaps can never instantly register, but as with all great music, slowly inscribes itself in the mind. The strong melody line is made doubly cogent by Morrissey's crooning, purring delivery, and his direct and moving lyrics.
'I can't see those who tried to love me, or those who felt they understood me. And I can't see those who very patiently put up with me.' The piano phrases dominate the music, and swirl in support of his contemplations.
It is a touching, well judged and eloquent lament, without being morose. It is stirring without being maudlin. It's a song I always feel I could get upset by, if I weren't so inspired. There is no question that when an artist lists such a song as a B-side he knows he is hitting form. The only pity about this is the many people who won't get to hear this snippet of pure genius because of the fact.
'Shot and a Ghost: A year in the brutal world of professional squash' is out now, priced £9.99 from Telegraph Books and www.willstrop.co.uk. Morrissey plays two UK tour dates in late July.
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