Morrissey's 14th solo album, Make-Up Is a Lie, officially dropped on March 6, 2026. This past Friday. It's a factual statement, but a mundane one. Albums don't really "drop" anymore; they are released into the web. And this universal, stateless web is exactly the lie Morrissey sings about.
The title track, "Make-Up Is a Lie", isn't a song about cosmetics, but a blistering indictment of our contemporary reality. A reality where everything is filtered, engineered, and fake. It is particularly symbolic that this album sees the light of day on Sire Records, the label that served as The Smiths' first home in the United States. True, the album was mostly written and recorded before the ink on the Sire contract was dry, but this return to his roots adds another layer of meaning to a work filled with the artist's soul-searching and maturity. Some songs are pleasant, some are excellent - some masquerade as mundane, but that depends on the listener.
Reviews worldwide for the new album are split in two. There are the matter-of-fact ones comparing the new work to Moz's previous albums; and then there's the blunter half: those who were just waiting for an opportunity to brutally and mercilessly bash Morrissey over past statements. I read one stunningly awful review in a supposedly respectable British paper, trashing the album because Morrissey sounds "pathetic" on it. Ironically, this is the same paper that previously crowned The Smiths as the greatest band in British history (greater than The Beatles). Amusing. Apparently, during his time as the lyricist and frontman of The Smiths, Morrissey wasn't pathetic, but rather a joyful man full of hope and optimism.
Oh, please.
Hypocrisy is a terrible disease, so I'll offer full disclosure. Every music review is personal. This one included. The listener writing the words you are currently reading identifies as a longtime Morrissey "fan", and therefore, this review is inherently biased. Not because it's blind love - personally, I don't believe in idolizing human beings - but I have admired Morrissey's career since the day my musical consciousness was formed. It's not just the albums and the songs; I obsessively consumed every interview he gave over the years, I studied him. Over the last twenty years, I've seen him perform 9 times, and I even had the privilege of interviewing him in 2016, an interview that went viral globally.
All this is written to establish the claim - or rather, to cover my ass - that I am not truly objective. I might write a review about a great new album by a local indie artist, or a problematic new album by Harry Styles - but they won't carry my personal history with Morrissey, nor the emotional baggage of the reviewer. On the other hand, if anyone tells you there is such a thing as an "objective cultural critic", they are probably lying. Life and reality always play a part.
Dramatic? A little. But with your permission, writing a music review is a serious matter - whereas writing an album review in a bomb shelter is a dramatic event. Hearing music under a missile attack by a murderous regime that wants to kill you, your little girls, and your pure-hearted dog who never hurt a soul - it adds a completely different weight to the sounds. "Make-up is a lie," Moz sings on the new album, and it sounds vastly different against the backdrop of Tel Aviv today compared to the pubs of London's East End.
Not far is the day when Artificial Intelligence will completely replace music critics. It's no longer science fiction. For some of us, it's reality. This might very well be the last time I write a review about an album I truly loved, or a review at all. It might be the last time you read someone writing about their love for a specific piece of music straight from the gut, rather than through technological text-generators.
In 2021, I found myself in a public debate with my favorite local Israeli musician, the late Matti Caspi. He claimed that music critics are simply people who failed to realize their true dreams of becoming musicians or actors, and thus, out of sheer frustration, became critics. It amazed me that someone who wrote such complex music could be so superficial. As a teenager, I dreamt of being a music journalist. I never dreamt of playing on a stage; the very thought terrifies me. But the experience of music, which to me is the closest thing to heaven on earth, always comes wrapped in critique, in prior knowledge, and a penetrating gaze into the depths of the art.
How does this relate to Morrissey's new album? Well, it's quite possible that, like me, Morrissey never dreamt of being a musician, but rather a music critic. If not for a fateful encounter with a boy named Johnny Marr, that's probably what would have happened. Morrissey was obsessed with music and the industry that feeds it. He investigated the aura surrounding the big stars. And he wrote about it, mostly in letters to music papers. Today, he'd probably launch a successful podcast.
The best song on Morrissey's new album is simply called "Lester Bangs". The best song in the eyes of this reviewer, of course. First, it's good because musically it takes Morrissey to a new place where he feels slightly less comfortable - and as a result, he leans heavily on the lyrics - which are the best he's written in years.
Lester Bangs, the man who elevated rock criticism to an art form, gets a beautiful tribute from Moz. Bangs wrote without rules, establishing a philosophy that redefined how rock idols should be treated. In other words - the more he loved a musician, the more critical he was of them. Just ask Lou Reed. The inevitable clash came over Bruce Springsteen's debut album. Bangs wrote that Bruce's lyrics were "idiotic", and therefore the album was excellent. His editor, Jon Landau (who later became The Boss's manager), couldn't fathom praising an album with idiotic lyrics. This clash marked the beginning of the end, and shortly after, Bangs was officially fired from Rolling Stone by publisher Jann Wenner, allegedly for "disrespecting musicians" in a scathing review of Canned Heat. Lester died at age 33. Rock and roll.
And just as no one writes reviews like Lester Bangs anymore, no one writes songs like Morrissey. Morrissey isn't fed by AI; he's fed by life experience. The song depicts Lester Bangs in a torn and frayed t-shirt with seven-day stains on it, spending the night with a beer can in his basement of despair. The chorus becomes entirely autobiographical. Morrissey drops all his ironic armor, adding a new layer to that nostalgia - everything was wrong back then, but at least the music was music, and the writing was writing.
This magnificent song, one of 12 (not including two excellent bonus tracks), was composed by Camila Grey - who composed a total of four songs on the album. "You're Right, It's Time", composed by Grey, was chosen as the opener. On one hand, it sets a mature and slightly sentimental tone; on the other hand, the melody simply isn't sweeping enough, and perhaps does an injustice to Morrissey's words. The same goes for the title track, where Morrissey's deep irony shatters against a somewhat monotonous melody. The track "Kerching Kerching" is catchy enough to be the UK's next Eurovision entry - though for Morrissey, that's not necessarily a compliment. But hey, if for every four songs Camila Grey composes we get one "Lester Bangs", then sign her to a long-term contract.
Alain Whyte, who is credited with some of Morrissey's biggest solo hits, composed some of the best songs on the current album, most notably "Boulevard" and the monumental closer "The Monsters of Pig Alley". In "Boulevard", Morrissey personifies the avenue: "Everyone steps on you... birds shit on you, school kids spit on you, I know how you feel". You can listen and smile - he acknowledges the irony.
On the current album, he also compares himself to the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. The song was first performed in Israel in 2023, with a line that triggered haters globally: "Even before the investigation, they said it wasn't terrorism". Israelis actually loved that line. On the album version, this line was changed to "Even before the investigation, they said there was nothing to see". Because despite the automatic critiques against Morrissey, this wasn't a racist line against Muslims as claimed - but a critique of the modern media's lack of transparency.
The ultimate proof of this global hypocrisy came through Morrissey's complex relationship with Israel over the past year. Among the slew of his recently canceled shows, the cancellation of his Istanbul shows stood out. The Turks decided to boycott him, claiming he is a "Zionist". The bitter irony is that despite his historical support for Israel - Morrissey hasn't uttered a single word about the October 7 massacre. He remains completely silent. And yet, in today's polarized world, having once draped yourself in an Israeli flag is enough to get you boycotted. In an album where Morrissey does some piercing soul-searching, his silence towards us might be slightly jarring, but the paradox surrounding him only proves the album's central thesis - the make-up truly is a lie.
Guitarist Jesse Tobias contributes two songs - one is "Zoom Zoom the Little Boy" which gets panned by critics for being "too light". It seems those critics are meat-eaters missing the harsh social critique Morrissey delivers regarding animal rights. When talking about the most cruel industry on earth - balancing it with "light" music is the most fitting thing possible. The second Tobias track, "The Night Pop Dropped", is one of the standout tracks. It seems Morrissey uses the word "Pop" here as an affectionate term for his spiritual father - David Bowie. Towards the end he sings, "He told us the best thing we can do is be ourselves". The music, produced by Joe Chiccarelli, puts the emphasis exactly where it belongs: on Morrissey's voice, which manages to sweep you away and strike the most hidden chords in the soul.
Former band member Gustavo Manzur is responsible for "Many Icebergs Ago", where Morrissey takes us to what he remembers of a London that no longer exists. Critics might look for more reasons to call him a curmudgeon, but it's a sentimental love song to a moment in time - with a whole lot of self-awareness. When Taylor Swift wrote an entire song around wordplay with the word "Wood", the world applauded; when Morrissey does it, he might get canceled for ageism.
Morrissey also released "Amazona" - a cover of a Roxy Music track from their 1973 album Stranded. While it doesn't scrape the wild cacophony of the original, this seemingly random choice provides a wonderful breather. In an album dripping with heaviness, loneliness, and soul-searching, Morrissey allows himself to let loose.
How lucky are we to still have Morrissey. Just a week ago, he packed the O2 in London with 18,000 fans for a completely sold-out show. In a sea of fakeness and algorithms, this massive crowd proved that the demand for truth - raw, bleeding, and unapologetic - never ends.
Because in the end, even at 66, Morrissey simply proves he is the greatest of them all. The critics in the British tabloids don't understand why he isn't regurgitating a new The Queen Is Dead for them. They miss the fact that within all this bare sentimentality toward the past, the man chooses to move forward and create something new.
Let's put the truth on the table: if any other artist had released this exact album, it would be met with wall-to-wall applause and five-star reviews. But because it's Morrissey - with his complex personality, his big mouth, his glorious past, and his absolute refusal to apologize - he gets shitty reviews.
And that's fine. At the end of the day, even this review you're reading right now, along with all the other self-righteous reviews in the world, will simply be flushed down the toilet of history and become a footnote in the memory of AI engines. But the music, and the songs that saved our lives - we will never forget them.