80. Ouija Board, Ouija Board. Writers: Morrissey (lyrics), Stephen Street (music).
Year of composition: 1989.
Appearances on official releases: Released as a single in 1989, and on the singles/b-sides collection 'Bona Drag'. Also features on the compilations 'The Best Of Morrissey', 'The HMV/Parlaphone Singles', and 2011's 'The Very Best Of'. Potentially the most critically maligned and certainly the least commercially successful of Morrissey's early string of solo singles, 'Ouija Board, Ouija Board' has received a revival of sorts in terms of fan favouritism. The explanation for this is very obvious; at the time, it was taken as a sign that Morrissey was being left behind. It was released in the same week as hit singles by other Manchester based artists The Happy Mondays and The Stone Roses, and at the tender age of 30 Morrissey was already beginning to look like an elder statesman of the Manchester music scene. Looking back, it fits in well with the early Moz singles, and doesn't suffer from such direct comparisons to the new sound of Northern English music. Musically in the same vein as earlier singles like 'Such a Little Thing Makes Such a Big Difference' and 'Piccadilly Palare', but also taking direct influence from early Sparks (thanks to the stuttering keyboard that runs through the spine of the song) and Brian Eno, 'Ouija Board, Ouija Board' is both comically and emotionally satisfying. The lyrics allude to the singer attempting to talk to an ex-lover who has passed on, the punch line – which has unfortunately been removed from live performances of the song since, for some inexplicable reason – being the deceased telling Moz to 'push off', thus taking the singer's self-asserted loneliness to an even deeper level. However, the song could have a darker, more personal streak than that, with many suggesting that the lyrics talk about a potential old flame of Morrissey's who killed herself whilst the singer was still in his teens. This autobiographical element puts a dark slant onto one of Moz's more supposedly frivolous tracks, and this sharp, downbeat edge is only enhanced by the refrain of 'well she has now gone, from this unhappy planet, with all the carnivores and the destructors on it'. It's another return to one of Moz's favourite subjects, suicide, and the understanding of it. It's a shame that this song wasn't as accepted and adored as it should have been upon first release.
Listen to the studio version, with a hilariously camp music video,
here.
Listen to a recent live version, sans punchline,
here.