'Make-up Is A Lie': Not Morrissey's Comeback... Yet

It says nothing to me about my life

If you’ve bought a Morrissey ticket anytime since 2012, there’s statistically a 30% chance he will cancel the show, often with little notice. This could be for any number of reasons: he’s sick or exhausted, or the venue didn’t meet his list of demands (such as removing all meat products from the premises), or he somehow has financial difficulties getting there (even when the show has sold well), or he just doesn’t feel like performing and would rather sit at the hotel bar and drink with Noel Gallagher. These cancellations have obviously infuriated fans, many of whom travel to see him in far-off places, despite widespread advice to never travel specifically for Morrissey. Yet they keep buying tickets, hoping that he will show up. And indeed, when he does show up, he’s usually on time and amazing. I’ve bought two Morrissey tickets and seen two gigs, and it’s a religious experience. The first time I saw him, at New Jersey Performing Arts Center in November 2024, I ended up next to a group of middle-aged superfans, including one who’s seen him over 20 times in the past 15 years. Now 66 years old, Morrissey’s voice has held up remarkably well, and his energy is very much still there. The gamble is worth it for how great he is.

At that 2024 concert, he said, “As you know, nobody will release my music anymore. As you know because I’m a chief exponent of free speech. In England at least, it’s now criminalized… You cannot speak freely in England. If you don’t believe me, go there. Express an opinion, you’ll be sent to prison.” See, Morrissey’s had a rough decade until now. BMG dropped him after 2020’s I Am Not A Dog On A Chain, and in 2022, he signed to Capitol Records to release Bonfire of Teenagers. That album was produced by Andrew Watt—the younger producer who’s re-energized (and excessively autotuned) old rockers like the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osbourne, and Iggy Pop—and featured a song with Miley Cyrus, as well as the title track about “England’s 9/11,” the 2016 Manchester Arena bombing. Relations between Morrissey and Capitol quickly soured; according to him, they refused to release the album despite holding onto the rights. Eventually, Morrissey bought Bonfire of Teenagers back from Capitol, and spent a few years shopping it around to record labels. Apparently, they all told him that it was great, yet for political reasons were all too afraid to release it. Notably, he refused to release it independently, as he demands the prestige and promotional backing of being signed to a major label.

Amidst all of that, he commenced work with producer Joe Chiccarelli on another new record, originally called Without Music The World Dies, then You’re Right, It’s Time. After further changes to the tracklist and cover art, that record is now called Make-up Is A Lie, and as Warner revives the Sire imprint (which brought The Smiths and Morrissey to American audiences decades ago), the man finally has a record deal. During a recent show at London’s O2 Arena, he proclaimed, “The fact that I’m on this stage is an incredible accomplishment in itself, because as you know, the jealous bitches tried to get rid of me.” (As for Bonfire of Teenagers, it will surely come soon as part of this deal, perhaps even this year. Based on live performances of its songs, it seems to be the best Morrissey record in a long time.)

Morrissey’s music since 2006’s Ringleader of the Tormenters has been a mixed bag: each album has something of value, though his last few records have been increasingly bogged down with filler songs, contradictory political sentiments, and lazy, redundant lyrics. The rollout for Make-up Is A Lie wasn’t exactly promising: the title track and first single comes across as self-parody, and the album packaging is plastered with unflattering photos of Morrissey in a soyjak pose. And if the promotion was engineered for memeability, it didn’t get anywhere with that either.

As it turns out, Make-up Is A Lie is one of the most careless, uninspired records of Morrissey’s entire career. Most of his records at least have some sort of overarching worldview or point to make; Make-up Is A Lie is a scattered collection of songs, few of which are lyrically or musically invigorating. Six years on from the sonically diverse I Am Not A Dog On A Chain, Morrissey’s social criticisms have become less biting, and his emotions less defined. On that last album, the song “What Kind of People Live in Those Houses?” offered a poetic attack against suburban complacency passed down from generation to generation. On the new album’s former title track “You’re Right, It’s Time,” Morrissey’s opening missive is, “I wish to move away from those who stare at screens all day/I want to speak up and to not be trapped by censorship.” He’s right (though not in the way he thinks he is), but it’s not exactly the material for a compelling song.

Continuing the brutal opening stretch are the songs released as advance singles. If Sire/Warner selected these as singles, I’d suspect internal sabotage; if Morrissey himself pushed it, then he’s shooting himself in the foot. “Make-up Is A Lie” tells a story about a poet in Paris who silently tells Morrissey an important message, even after her death: “Make-up is a lie! All make-up, make-up is a lie! All make-up is a lie, all make-up is a lie!!!” He sings this redundant chorus with gusto, as if the entire world needs to take notice.

Indeed, Morrissey recorded this album in France, and of course he has something political to say about it. “Notre-Dame” is a repetitive song heavily implying that Islamic extremists caused the 2019 Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris fire, and that the government has actively engaged in a coverup. “Notre-Dame, we know who tried to kill you/Notre-Dame, we will not be silent/Before investigations, they said ‘there’s nothing to see here!’” he sings. (Early live versions had the chorus line as “Before investigations, they said ‘this is not terrorism!’.”) Many conspiracy theories have proven somewhat valid, except this one has been well debunked. I don’t think “Notre-Dame”’s messaging is particularly problematic—just braindead—though the exaggerated public perception of Morrissey’s politics doesn’t help his case. After he wore a For Britain pin on TV in 2019, the far-right has claimed him as one of their own, even though he’s never really been a rightist. More than anything, he holds socially traditional views on British culture and incoherent opinions on international relations.

The album proceeds with a bafflingly bad cover of Roxy Music’s “Amazona,” which is out of place and even messier than the original song, though Morrissey’s vocal performance is good. “Headache” is whispery and insignificant, but things pick up at the end of side one with “Boulevard.” The opening lines are a bit cliche, but it’s an epic, yearning ballad with a dramatic vocal performance and strong lyrical imagery. “I’ll have one more pass/At a long cold glass/And then throw up in an icy bathroom/Somewhere, just off the boulevard,” Morrissey sings in what comes across as his not-perfectly-successful attempt at a Jacques Brel song.

Side two doesn’t save Make-up Is A Lie, but it’s more consistent. “Zoom Zoom The Little Boy,” this album’s “save the animals” song, is the catchiest thing here, even if its lyrics (“He wants to save the cats and the dogs/And the bats and the frogs/And the badgers and the hedgehogs”) are nothing more than an elevated nursery rhyme. “The Night Pop Dropped” has a decent chorus, “Kerching Kerching” has moderately clever lyrics undermined by a cloying vocal melody, and “Lester Bangs” is a nice tribute to the titular writer, albeit rather sappy (“3000 miles away/This nerd hangs on your every word/I lean, and you are leaned upon/When all my youth went oh so wrong”… Bangs’ own single for Ork Records tickles the ear a bit more). “Many Icebergs Ago” reminisces about past haunts but musically doesn’t go anywhere. Closing track “The Monsters of Pig Alley” is one of the best songs on the album, a reflection on success and youth through the lens of a great who’s sustained his career into old age. “The monsters of Pig Alley say/Why don’t you pack it in and come back home?/We’re not sophisticated/We’re overweight and dated/But we love you.” Along with “Boulevard,” it’s the most honest, emotive, and substantive piece on the album.

Given the long, fraught wait between I Am Not A Dog On A Chain and Make-up Is A Lie, some fans are anxious to declare this record seriously great, his best since Ringleader of the Tormentors or 2004’s comeback You Are The Quarry. I even saw one person online say that it’s the best thing he’s done since The Queen Is Dead. None of this is true, of course, as it’s not even as good as I Am Not A Dog On A Chain or even 2017’s Low In High School (half of which is garbled nonsense, but at least it’s tuneful and “I Wish You Lonely” is an all-time great Morrissey song). Also infuriating is that the download-exclusive (for now) bonus tracks “Hello Hell” and “Happy New Tears” are better than most songs on the proper album (even if these bonus tracks don’t sound as if they were properly mastered). More than anything, Make-up Is A Lie reminds me of another recent album well below its artist’s standards: Taylor Swift’s The Life of a Showgirl. Both of these albums are glossy, polished, serviceable pieces of product, which upon even cursory logical inspection range from mediocre to truly dreadful, but it’s all listenable or at least “pleasant” enough that these artists’ respective rabid fanbases can delude themselves into liking it if they try hard enough.

The sound of Make-up Is A Lie is also not great: everything is indistinct, congealed, compressed, thick mush. You can tell that everything is slathered in reverb but nothing exists in a distinct space, nor does anything have shape or texture. Frank Arkwright mastered the 96kHz/24bit master for digital distribution, and presumably cut lacquers too (there’s no runout identification, though the GZ Media codes indicate it’s an external lacquer). The digital master is at normal modern levels but not as heavily limited as I expected, not that it matters because the mix isn’t very open to begin with.

I received a sealed promo copy of the 140g standard blue vinyl edition (marbled red vinyl and zoetrope picture disc variants also available), pressed at GZ for Europe and one of GZ’s US facilities (Memphis or Nashville) for the American market. My copy is flat “enough” though has light to moderate surface noise throughout much of the album. It’s cut a little quiet (50 minutes on a single disc), yet sounds slightly better than the digital master; the cut to lacquer brings a bit more spatial separation and smooths over the grain in Morrissey’s voice caused by digital time-stretching and pitch correction. The packaging is merely a standard direct-to-board gatefold with a printed inner sleeve, with all the lyrics and credits plus more photos of soyjak Morrissey. If you like the album or need to have everything Morrissey releases, it’s a fine enough edition for $30, though don’t pay more than that.