It appears Morrissey has canceled his upcoming San Antonio show. Again. (What the hell, 2016?)
On Saturday morning, Morrissey fanzine "True to You"
published a lengthy post that is supposedly from Moz himself (die hard fans say he communicates through the zine).
The post strikes exactly the tone you'd expect from a very upset Morrissey who just had to disappoint fans by canceling the end of his long-awaited, sell-out tour – twice. The title, "This is a sad light that now goes out," a melodramatic twist on an already melancholy song
, is followed by Morrissey saying his decision to cancel the rest of the tour (shows in Detroit, Cleveland, Chicago, Houston, Dallas and San Antonio) has left him in "unrecoverable despair." (We've asked bookers with the Majestic Theatre, where Morrissey was set to perform December 17, for comment and will update if we hear back.)
First, Morrissey blames the company that has managed the tour's finances since August, 360 Management. The tour was going fine, Morrissey claims, until his keyboardist, Gustavo Manzur, collapsed backstage before a show in Denver last month. He says the company told them "all funds had suddenly evaporated" after the incident, and that there was "apparently not even enough money to transport the touring party to the next scheduled city." The company, he says, "faded out as quickly as they had faded in."
Moz goes on to say his band has been "repeatedly done over in recent years by slippery industry incompetents." He says they recover in time and "bounce back like the sea." He goes on:
"We are a disciplined ship and we succeed without any help from the music industry. We continue to live with the optical device of an industry where only scale and enormity of cash is seen as evidence of talent; where the public is thought ready to swallow anything as long as it is done with the punch of five million dollars. The results appear to be continually elaborate comic-strip dumbshows that do not even matter to those directly involved. The true artists must look after themselves whilst the artificially aroused are aided and assisted to the highest ranks without a shred of effort, and the result is ... a nest of horrors. And on it goes."
It's the kind of tortured, hurt, sorta blame-y response we should all expect from the godfather of highly-emotive, melodramatic alternative pop-rock – a fascinating, talented wordsmith who not only sells out concerts in minutes, but whose arrival to town inspires art shows.
He's also the guy who, we should all admit by now, has a history of standing us up.
In his blog/diary entry, Morrissey eventually circles back around to gratitude. And he did the whole 'I'll understand if you hate me now' sadboy thing to the six cities he stood up – twice.
"In dismal circumstances our friends in both cities gave us their best, and we shall never forget them. We expect no further chances in Detroit, Chicago, Cleveland, Houston, Dallas or San Antonio ... nights destroyed by the ephemeral damagers ... who do their worst ... and slip away."
Sure, there is the practical concern that fewer and fewer promoters will work with Morrissey if he keeps canceling shows, possibly limiting how often we get to see him. But come on, Moz. You still got chances here.