Can you believe that in all the years I've been writing this blog I've never before chosen long standing love for Morrissey as a hunk of the week? From the first time I heard my sister play a Smiths albums, I was smitten–as I'm sure nearly every young sensitive heart was–at hearing him sing about cemeteries with a pompadour and a bouquet of flowers in his back pocket.
Arrogant, misunderstood, talented, and alluringly asexual, he was (and still is) a pop star dreamboat for the kind of people who abhor the idea of pop star dreamboats. Nearly as quotable as his role model Oscar Wilde, Morrissey has made a career of not only being a major part of one of the greatest bands ever, but as an outspoken industry outsider always ready with a quip. Be it about sexuality, other famous artists, or Jamie Oliver.
His solo efforts tend to go slightly underappreciated, mainly because people are always comparing them to his work with the Smiths, but I think, at least the earlier albums that I'm more familiar with, deserve equal praise. Lest we forget, Oujia Board was a staple in nearly every sad teenage girl's nightly play list.