"You have never been in love until you've seen the stars reflect on Eagle Rock Boulevard ... "
Like a preening, cocksure matador, Morrissey took to the stage of the Rabobank Theater Sunday night, rocking and rollicking his way through a stylish set full of early favorites and new material.
With three identical massive, looming James Dean photos as the backdrop to his stage/shrine, the former The Smiths frontman opened his 100-plus minute set with "First of the Gang to Die" then launched into "Last of the Famous International Playboys."
I'd never seen a band at the smaller Rabobank building, but it's a million times better than it's soulless cousin next door down. I don't think the entire front section of the theater sat down once during the show and as the dazzling spotlights and moody color changes bathing the stage illuminated this heaving throng hanging on Mozza's every word, it was easy to imagine oneself in London or Los Angeles.
Predictably, the few Smiths songs Morrissey did play, like "Girlfriend in a Coma," got the loudest ovations, but while the energy of the crowd wilted ever so slightly depending on the collective cognizance of the song, Morrissey's passion was a soaring, almost sexual ode to performance. No half-arsing it for this man.
At times, audience members clambered on stage to kiss, hug, or in one woman's case, wrap her arms and legs around the singer, clinging like a little boy to his mum. Morrissey took it all in stride, never missing a note as security wrestled the idolizing fan away. At separate intervals he lifted three little kids on stage and crooned to them before tenderly helping them back into their parents' arms. One day, these little nippers will realize they were in the presence of a rock genius.
As for me, I already knew it, and I don't think I'll ever forget.