So, The Messenger is not even close to the lull that was Boomslang. You know, a bit like when that other British guitarist from that other crucial late-1980s British band released his new project, The Seahorses. To the point of being monumentally underwhelming. That was sub-Weller/fudged-Oasis it was poor. And, well, if I’d been involved in 2003’s Boomslang (credited to Johnny Marr & The Healers) I’d be wanting a do-over too. It’s interesting that that award – and a buzz of interest in Marr’s playing with The Smiths and as a go-to hired-hand for a variety of interesting performers across the late 1980s and through the 1990s – should come right now, a heavily renewed interest right as he’s releasing his new solo album. And if it were – in any real sense – something measurable (even though, by virtue of its title it’s not and never could be) the award should surely go to someone who oozes music – Mozart or Monk before Marr I say. How ridiculous for such an award to exist. Johnny Marr is receiving over-the-top accolades these days – he did his best work half a lifetime ago (half his lifetime, to be precise) and it’s not helping anyone to have Marr win an award for “Godlike Genius” – that’s simply something he cannot live up to, it’s simply something that makes no sense it makes NME looks stupid/even more stupid and it reflects poorly on all of us: music listeners/consumers.
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