HE'S practically a recluse who makes no bones about his hatred of the press, and has long been a target of paparazzi and regular fodder for the tabloids.
The fact that Steven Patrick Morrissey shuns the spotlight seems to make him even more intriguing – people want to know more.
Since first appearing on Top Of The Pops in 1983 wearing NHS specs, a hearing aid and with a gladioli hanging out his bac
k pocket, he has became a most unlikely icon.
The combination of his lyrics and the emotive, innovative guitar-playing of bandmate Johnny Marr turned Manchester band The Smiths into one of the most influential groups of all time – tracks like This Charming Man, What Difference Does It Make, Panic and Girlfriend In A Coma becoming instant classics.
The Smiths broke up at the height of their popularity in 1987, following a series of bitter arguments between Marr and Morrissey over the direction the band should take.
Just six months after the split, Morrissey embarked on a solo career, releasing the album Viva Hate to massive acclaim.
Soon, however, questions started to arise about his political views.
Supporting Madness in Finsbury Park, London in 1992, Morrissey appeared draped in a Union Flag, with a gigantic backdrop of a skinhead behind him.
Not since David Bowie's 1976 Nazi salute had a pop star made such an ill-thought gesture.
Controversy has followed him ever since, with accusations of racism regularly levelled at him by the press.
And now, 25 years on from that first appearance on Top of The Tops, Morrissey is back in the midst of another ruckus, this time with NME. The upshot of his spat is that the 48-year-old, who comes to the Edinburgh Playhouse tomorrow to plug his forthcoming Greatest Hits album, is no longer talking to the press. No matter. Like his hero Oscar Wilde, the Manchester-born misfit has proved himself incapable of uttering a dull word since he shot to fame with The Smiths in the 1980s, frequently displaying razor-sharp wit.
As an example, take this snippet from a 1989 interview with NME, who asked him if he sees any similarities between himself and David Bowie. "What, the living Bowie or the present dead one?" he quipped. "The living Bowie, there are some, yes. Yes, I do see similarities." Or the previous year, when Blitz magazine asked him what he thinks it is that his music does to the fans. "Well, they wear heavy overcoats and stare at broken lightbulbs," he retorted. "That's the way it's always been for me."
And you can forget about Morrissey playing down his supernatural songwriting powers.
"Artists aren't really people," he deadpanned, "and I'm actually 40 per cent papier mache." Asked why he's always so miserable in his lyrics, he had this to say to Melody Maker in 1987: "I'm capable of looking on the bright side. I just don't do it very often".
In between the moments of Wildean wit, however, Morrissey seems to delight in ruffling feathers when the mood takes him.
"If the BNP were afforded television time or unbiased space in newspapers," he opined to a Select magazine journalist back in 1994, "it would seem less of a threat and it would ease the situation.
"They are gagged so much that they take revenge in the most frightening way by hurting and killing people. But part of that is simply their anger at being ignored in what is supposed to be a democratic society."
Not that any of this has detracted from his popularity among his adoring fanbase.
To demonstrate this, just look at his most recent album, Ringleader Of The Tormentors (2006), which shot straight to the No1 spot. In the past four years, two of his singles have reached No3 – the highest chart position The Smiths ever reached was No10.
So, we know the music is good, but what is it about Morrissey the man that has inspired such furious devotion among his fans for so long?
"What is both admirable and exhausting about Morrissey is that he doesn't change," said Guardian journalist Dorian Lynskey, who feels that part of his appeal is the way he retains his teenage intensity and stubbornness into middle-age.
"While other musical heroes get their teeth fixed, date models and accept honours from the Queen, Morrissey remains proudly remote from the throng.
"It means he is still a vital lyricist, a mesmerising performer and a perplexing human being. He is much as he was."
And that's Morrissey is a nutshell . . . he's just, well, Morrissey.
• Morrissey, Edinburgh Playhouse, Greenside Place, Saturday, 7pm, £32.50, 0844-847 1660
The full article contains 779 words and appears in Edinburgh Evening News newspaper.
