It can't be
easy for Morrissey. Since the breakup of the Smiths about
ten years ago, he has been replaced several times as the
king of mope rock, first by Robert Smith, then by Kurt
Cobain, and on and on.
While he has released some very good
singles and one true masterpiece of a solo album, 1988's
Viva Hate, he's never replaced the vital ingredient of
Johnny Marr's guitar brilliance with the Smiths. Instead,
he's fallen deeper and deeper into navel gazing.
Maladjusted falls into this trap. Musically, it's fine,
but where he once wallowed in misery with a twinkle in his
eye, like in "Girlfriend In A Coma," "Suedehead" and
"Hairdresser On Fire," now you get the feeling he really
does feel mistreated in tunes like the title track, "Sorrow
Will Come In The End" and "Trouble Loves Me."
forgotten that only irony makes this stuff bearable, turning
him into the musical equivalent of that annoying person who
just sits in the corner glowering into his whiskey. He feels
sorry enough for himself... why should we add to it?