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Sunday, 6 November 2011

Following the Mozziah Day 53 Sunday 6th November 2011

The Mozziah's idea to form a non existent 'Secret Society' to parallel Oscar Wilde's has already worked, before the concerts and the roses even begin. The MorrisseysWorld phenomenon has brought together a whole collection of the most loyal and dedicated fans from various country's and grouped them together in Twitterdilly, a non existent 'virtual' town, where the language is Twitterdilly Palare, just silly slang between me and the boys (and girls) in my gang. Virtually all of the 'Secret Society' who have logged on to twotter on a daily basis over this last couple of months, have all chastised themselves for being there and have all felt the need to explain that they wouldn't usually be engaging on such a mind numbingly stupid medium, but it is a different usage of twitter to most. The masses use twotter to tell you what they are eating and what they have purchased, our 'Secret Society' talks about The Mozziah and swaps Youtube clippings as we share the soundtracks of our lives. I have never met any of my Twitterdilly friends, and yet, without even knowing their names, let alone where they live and what they do, I know what songs they like, and songs ARE everything, particularly Mozziah songs. And unlike Bieber, with his 30 billion followers, The Mozziah is able to interact with his fans through unverified twitter accounts that NOBODY believe is really him. Those who come on to twitter and ask The Mozziah to 'prove' he is he, just don't understand. I have never had to ask, in the same way I have never had to ask Buck who he is, you just know! And those who do ask The Mozziah if he is really he? They will of course be told, 'No', and those journalists who ask The Mozziah why  his fans are throwing roses at him, will be met with a shrug. The Mozziah said in his chat room session on Friday that nobody knows how the 'Secret Society' will take shape, or how it will end. The current 'roseless' society on twitter will eventually fizzle out and by the time the concerts hit Oakland, and the stage and venue is awash with roses, the 'Secret Society' will not be secret anymore. By the time the next lot of concerts hit the UK, there will be no need for the roses, but in many ways, the whole of The Mozziah's fans represent one BIG secret society anyway. A society that have something that the rest of the music world don't have, the REAL AND PROPER poet laureate, whose lyrics and wit are embraced and shared by the society that understand, and completely ignored by those who don't. I am often asked why I like The Mozziah's music and I have always tried to explain to people about the wit and beauty of the lyrics, but from now on, I will take my lead from The Mozziah, there is nothing to prove, there is nothing to explain, from now on when I am asked why I like him, I will say, 'I don't', after all, if they can't 'see & hear' it for themselves, then explanations are futile. So what has come from our rose less, twitterdillean, secret society? For many of us, a song. As we've shared our Youtube clippings, musings, experiences etc, somehow one particular song keeps reemerging as our anthem. I don't know how it's happened but I am a great believer in fate, it must be his pretty little mooning arse, and I believe this song keeps popping up for a reason. Before this Phenomenon started, any of my 'Mozziah' mates will tell you that my favourite song ever was 'Death of A Disco Dancer', don't ask me why, I have no idea. Other personal favourites include; November, Reel and of course, 'There's A Light That Never Goes Out', but this 'new' favourite has now emerged and not just for me. Buck, Stilli, Rosy, are all among those who keep posting it. The song appeared on The Maladjusted album in 1997, an album that wasn't particularly well promoted. For some reason, The Mozziah chose not to release this song as a single and at the time of release, only sang it live a handful of times. I didn't get to see it live until The Forum in London in 1999, having failed to get tickets for Battersea Power Station in '97. It is a song that The Mozziah himself is obviously both fond and proud of . I have already mentioned in my blog before, that I have a feeling that this song is about to return to the set list, but there are certain people who feel it should also be released as a single, not as a 'B' side, not that singles really have b sides anymore, but in it's own right as a stand alone single. I have already directed the whole video on my head, and still hope to produce it on my blog, if ever I find the time, but for now, to satisfy your earbuds, go and treat yourself by either digging out your Maladjusted CD, (well some people bought it) or by going to Youtube and typing in...........TROUBLE LOVES ME, I promise you, you won't regret it. And Mozziah, if my hunch is right, could we please have a 'secret' dedication at Chicago for our Twitterdilly anthem? Thank you, sorry, Cajole you.


  1. I wish there existed a high quality live version of the song, as I like the vocal stylings of his live performances better. A bit angrier and a bit more tragic.

  2. Why Trouble Loves Me works:

    Firstly, the personification of Trouble gives tremendous pathos. That an abstract concept gives him the attention that an unrequited love does not twists the knife for a second time.

    The melody to "Just when everything seems like everything's evened out" is just sublime. The verses are mostly comprised of steps in the melody, but in contrast, the repetitive skips of a fourth in "Just when it seems like ev - ry - thing's even - ed out" adds a dimension that makes the song much much more gorgeous. (Skips of fourths are my favorite, can be painfully beautiful and catchy as hell depending on the kind of song you're writing.)

    The song's bridge fully shifts the attention away from Trouble to being luckless in love.

    Power of threes at work in "at your age/Go to Soho/Go to waste/in the wrong arms", working its magic. Whether you want to interpret it as self-ridicule or the words of others, real or imagined, the first two sarcastically quip on the unconventionality of his personal life, while the third is doubly sarcastic, flipping the other two on their head. Can be read as his retort or the same voice as the other three...the latter makes it much more bitter.

    In this latter half of the song he also seems to comment on the controversy he's courted. He replaces that regal "Just when it seems like..." pre-hook (not sure if that would even be the correct term) with a couplet that's the song's shining glory of imagery: "Show me a barrel and I'll scrape it/Faced with the music, as always I'll face it..."

    The entire song's built mainly on abstraction, with the bits about being embraced and Soho being the only image. The song's also built on wallowing in self-pity and misfortune. But at the song's climax he smacks you in the face with a shock of humility, admitting that he is at least partly to blame for his own sorrow, and then revealing that he is, if anything, brutally honest with himself (the 'face the music' line).

    The next lines that form the anti-climax extrapolate on this twist in the mode of his self-reflection: the lines on being a dour Englishman can be read as either looking at his identity square in the face or mocking it, before he returns again to unrequited love ("midnight, I can't get you out of my head"), imitating the pattern of obsessive thought.

    The repeated couplet that leads out the song is an odd way to end it, but hell I'll be honest, I'm not so talented a writer at this stage that I could say how he could have wrapped it up any differently than to repeat the "still running around" line from the bridge, varying it with the 'disenchanted taste" line.

    Musically, the piano is reminiscent of "Let It Be" while the arrangement is reminiscent of late era Beatles in general.

    Really really beautiful song and I'm sad I didn't know this song existed before today.


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