Morrissey at The Roundhouse

Tuesday saw a trip to see Morrissey in his residence at The Roundhouse. I approve of The Roundhouse, I approve of the idea of The Roundhouse, its history, its shape (it really is round) and it hosts a wide range of shows from rock to circus. I approve of that. In much the same way I approve of Morrissey, the principle of him, the fact of him, and I'm pleased that he's still around and still successful. But I didn't really enjoy the experience last night.

I'm not a fan. I liked the early Smiths stuff and I've liked a few of his records since then, but I'm definitely a 'greatest hits' rather than 'album' person. Some of the people there seemed to know every song and make a lot of noise when they recognised songs, so must, I assume, be fans. So why did so many of them spend the evening wandering round, chatting, getting out their phones to text or make calls, spill beer and wander back and forth to the bar and toilets? And then whoop and holler and whistle at the end of the song they've talked through and were facing away from the stage? It is a puzzlement.

And that's probably a goodly part of why I didn't enjoy it. Tall people all over the place moving in to stand in front of people to get a better view and then blocking everyone behind them. Don't they realise how tall they are? I know they can't help it and they have every right to enjoy themselves as well but it's the grumpy old man in me coming out. I'm fed up with paying good money to see shows and then not seeing them. And I'm allowed to be grumpy - with age comes some privileges.

Another reason for my not enjoying is probably to do with the setlist. I didn't recognise most of the songs. I thought we'd be treated to a 'greatest hits' type of show where I'd probably at least recognise most of the songs and, last night, I recognised less than half a dozen. That's because I'm not a fan so I can't blame Morrissey for that, but it meant I can't say that my first gig of the year was a success.

I've seen some great bands at The Roundhouse since it re-opened - the wonder that is The Dresden Dolls (fuck the rock'n'roll circus, long live the punk cabaret!), the magnificence of Siouxsie, the colour and energy of Ojos de Brujo and the saviours of rock that are Comanechi (you read it here first). Last night's show doesn't come close to any of those.

Morrissey was fine, I wouldn't criticise him although there didn't seem to be any sparkle or threat in the performance. Maybe it's just me.

The journey home was a journey through hell. Typical, isn't it, a lacklustre evening brought further down by London Transport. It took 1 hour 40 minutes to get home on a tube system that decided it had done enough creaking and would just give up. Unfortunately so did the staff, either through incompetence, laziness or just down right lying, they seemed unable to tell a consistent and coherent story. Why problems on the City branch of the Northern Line should affect southbound trains from Edgware getting to Chalk Farm is a mystery (just look at a tube map). The train that was advertised as due in 9 minutes was, after we'd waited 10 minutes, changed to being due in 5 minutes and then after further waiting was announced as due in 7 minutes... and all this when the train was supposedly two stops away. Then when I finally got to Kennington we were told to change trains to a southbound train on the next platform and, seemingly as soon as everyone was off and the train doors were shut, we were then told there were no southbound trains and we had to leave the station. Followed by pandemonium getting out and hoardes of people at bus-stops. I was not a happy bunny.

So, no, it wasn't a great night out really...