Morrissey - the reincarnation of Emily Brontë?

We have come across a surprising - to put it mildly - piece of writing on a Morrisey/The Smiths fanpage. The author - Helen - has really taken it upon her to prove to the rest of the world the many similarities she has found between Morrissey's lyrics, life and... well Morrissey's everything and Emily Brontë's life and work. If anything, she has gone into a lot of work. It all came to her during a day trip to Haworth.

The Cult of the Brontës is rather like The Cult of Morrissey. How could words that have moved people across the world spring from this place? Already people travel Manchester on the Morrissey Tour, wandering round Southern Cemetery just as tourists in Haworth wander round the cemetery that the parsonage overlooks. "No wonder Emily was so gloomy!" Lines from the Brontë canon - especially Emily's work - clutter cyberspace, where people use a quote to best express themselves. "No coward soul is mine!" they might declare as easily as someone else might claim, "my love is as sharp as a needle in your the eye."

And so to Morrissey's pretty, petty theft from Emily. Place Maladjusted in your cd player. Go to "Satan Rejected My Soul". Hear him sing: "Satan rejected my soul / He knows my kind / He won't be dragged down / He's seen my face around / He knows Heaven doesn't seem / To be my home." And there it is: he's quoted Emily.

Please, do read the rest, it's worthwhile. We especially love the last paragraph:

And so Morrissey ends up, in my mind, as Emily's creative peer. Had she lived 250 years later, who's not to say that she and her sisters wouldn't have formed a band - The Brontës? After all, Emily wrote a poem called "The Lady to her Guitar". Their brother, Branwell (alcoholic, addicted to opium), would've been a Keith Moon on drums, Anne on bass, Charlotte on guitar, and Emily the enigmatic singer who has a way with a lyric and a turn of phrase - constantly frustrating to the media, forever stoking the love that the fans have for her. If Morrissey had lived back then, would he have been a poet, too? What if he'd met Emily, and they could've wandered the cemetery and the moors together, conjuring up words that rhymed and that would be loved for hundreds of years to come?

Categories: Weirdo, Emily_Brontë,Music