'Paint A Vulgar Picture' Part I
On Their Hands-At Last!-A Dead Star!
A lyrically fulsome track, 'Paint A Vulgar Picture' from the Strangeways, Here We Come studio album contains what may be Morrissey’s most transparent lyrics written while with the Smiths. Certainly they are his most scathing. While the song’s central theme is a critique of the music industry and the commercialization of music, it also covers the exploitation of fame, fan adulation, and (ultimately) alienation. This post only concerns the content of the song’s lyrics. A forthcoming secondary post will explore the song’s provenance and history.
Death as a Business Meeting Agenda Item ‘Paint A Vulgar Picture’ is an objectively caustic commentary on the music industry’s profit-driven exploitation of artists after their death or fall from commercial success. The fact that they’re often unable to control how their image and art are used after their demise or fall merely underscores the poignancy of the track [“Re-issue! Re-package! Re-package! Re-evaluate the songs double-pack with a photograph Extra Track (and a tacky badge)”]. Morrissey does indeed paint a vulgar picture of the capitalization of fame (especially when it is done posthumously) not out any genuine appreciation for the art but for profit.
Sycophants, Whores and Poseurs Morrissey’s ire is anything but limited in its scope, casting a wide net to condemn the “sycophantic slags”, fake friends, and entertainment industry ghouls who suddenly appear once a star is in the ground ("I knew him first, and I knew him well"). It is ironic that decades after he penned the lyrics to ‘‘Paint A Vulgar Picture’, Morrissey wrote a rueful post on Messages From Morrissey1 in July 2023 upon the death of singer/songwriter Sinéad O’Connor that eerily mirrored the lyrics of the song:
“…there is a certain music industry hatred for singers who don’t ‘fit in’ (this I know only too well), and they are never praised until death - when, finally, they can’t answer back. The cruel playpen of fame gushes with praise for Sinead today … with the usual moronic labels of “icon” and “legend”. You praise her now ONLY because it is too late. You hadn’t the guts to support her when she was alive and she was looking for you. The press will label artists as pests because of what they withhold … and they would call Sinead sad, fat, shocking, insane … oh but not today! Music CEOs who had put on their most charming smile as they refused her for their roster are queuing-up to call her a “feminist icon”, and 15 minute celebrities and goblins from hell and record labels of artificially aroused diversity are squeezing onto Twitter to twitter their jibber-jabber … when it was YOU who talked Sinead into giving up … because she refused to be labelled, and she was degraded, as those few who move the world are always degraded. Why is ANYBODY surprised that Sinead O’Connor is dead? […] Was this music madness worth Sinead’s life? No, it wasn’t. She was a challenge, and she couldn’t be boxed-up, and she had the courage to speak when everyone else stayed safely silent. She was harassed simply for being herself. Her eyes finally closed in search of a soul she could call her own. As always, the lamestreamers miss the ringing point, and with locked jaws they return to the insultingly stupid “icon” and “legend” when last week words far more cruel and dismissive would have done. Tomorrow the fawning fops flip back to their online shitposts and their cosy Cancer Culture and their moral superiority and their obituaries of parroted vomit … all of which will catch you lying on days like today … when Sinead doesn’t need your sterile slop.”
Notwithstanding O’Connor’s long and public decline - physically, mentally, and most importantly to the music industry, as a commercially “viable” artist - accolades suddenly poured in from sources who had previously been conspicuously silent, which Morrissey bitterly called out.
Artistry as a Commodity The song explores how artists are pressured to conform to a fluid set of expectations and demands in regards to their music. By and large a favorable record company contract, steady financial backing, and strong promotion is in most cases proportionate to the artist’s willingness to bend to the demands of their record label, elevating corporate expectations (profit) over genuine artistic expression.
“A-list, playlist ‘Please them, please them!’ ‘Please them! please them!’ (sadly, THIS was your life)”
In lieu of authenticity, integrity, and originality (all of which the Smiths possessed in spades), the music artist is dehumanized, their output rendered into little more than an accounting entry on a record label’s books. Bona fide artistic expression is seen as a liability to be both discouraged and minimized as it may hurt this quarter’s return on investment. In such an environment, real artistry and commercial success are almost totally disconnected from each other.
Adulation and Alienation The lyrics switch mid-song to the perspective of an admiring fan of a music idol. The fan expresses their intense longing for contact - physically and figuratively (“I touched you at the soundcheck / you had no real way of knowing / in my heart I begged ‘please, take me
with you...I don't care where you're going...’.”). The dichotomy between an artist and
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