or better or worse, we here at Stylus, in all of our autocratic consumer-crit greed, are slaves to timeliness. A record over six months old is often discarded, deemed too old for publication, a relic in the internet age. That's why each week at Stylus, one writer takes a look at an album with the benefit of time. Whether it has been unjustly ignored, unfairly lauded, or misunderstood in some fundamental way, we aim with On Second Thought to provide a fresh look at albums that need it.

Commercially, having been in a massively successful band helps a solo career immensely. On the creative side however, many an artist has been found to have little left in the imagination barrel by the time they are forced to fend for themselves. John Lennon never came close to reaching even the more modest highs of The Beatles in his solo efforts and Ian Brown is not giving any indication that he is genuinely capable of producing anything as definitive as the Stone Roses’ debut.

Despite his debut album Viva Hate’s rapid release after the demise of The Smiths there was still time for the press to make up their minds that a solo Morrissey would be a mere shadow of what he could achieve by the side of Johnny Marr, indeed Morrissey at one point had referred to the band as “my life support machine”. While Viva Hate was a definite success (it afforded him the chance to make a second LP, something not many expected) it did not stand favourably in comparison to any of the four studio albums of The Smiths. 1991’s Kill Uncle was the album that his critics (and let’s face it, there were a lot of them) would have loved him to release as his debut. Deemed a catastrophe by the press it still contained flashes of inspiration such as; “Sing Your Life” and “Driving Your Girlfriend Home” but on the whole was a lazy and indulgent work.

Two LP’s and one compilation (Bona Drag, which contained some new material but mainly consisted of previous singles and B-sides) into his career Morrissey had to produce something special to keep the public’s attention. Songs like “Margaret on the Guillotine” on Viva Hate had courted awareness for all the wrong reasons, it even resulted in a search on his house as he was considered a potential assassin of the “Iron Lady”, the search is referred to in Bona Drag’s “He Knows I’d Love To See Him”. “Bengali in Platforms” also on his debut caused many (mainly the NME) to accuse him of racism for its admittedly ambiguous references to immigrants. In July 1992 Morrissey produced the first of the two masterpieces his solo career has yielded to date.

Your Arsenal was an unashamed rockabilly affair with songs like the sideswiping “We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful” and “I Know It’s Gonna Happen Someday” restoring Morrissey’s place as a genius lyricist and still a terrifically engaging if not technically gifted vocalist. Sadly, as ever with Morrissey triumph was soon followed by controversy. At a 1993 “Madness” festival “Madstock” concert he was bottled (mainly) by skinheads for donning a Union Jack during a rendition of “National Front Disco”. The NME savaged him, unreasonable racist allegations were thrown about (accusations made all the more laughable by the NME’s championing of the Union Jack a few years later via the “brit-pop” movement”) and Morrissey once again had his back up against the wall.

Vauxhall & I landed in early 1994, having recently lost both close friend Mick Ronson and manager Nigel Thomas it was a poignant record for Morrissey to make and at the time one he believed to be his last. Initially it is a sombre and distressing listen but, like the very best of The Smiths work it contains an inexplicable yet intense joy that is increased by every listen, deservedly it provided him with his first solo #1 in the LP chart.

“Now My Heart Is Full” opens the album darkly “There’s gonna be some trouble” he predicts, before it swells into a Brighton Rock referencing bona-fide anthem. Despite the pining manner in which it is delivered Morrissey typically still finds room for humour, representing his friends as “Rain-coated lovers’ puny brothers” is a knowing reference to what the stereotypical Morrissey devotee is alleged to look like.

It is hard to overestimate the importance of Morrissey’s relationship with the media in shaping this record. Almost every song could be interpreted to have at least one reference to the journalists who have built him up and knocked him down in equal measure; the genius is that the suggestion is never implicit. On album closer “Speedway” the verbal assault “All those Lies! Written Lies! Twisted Lies” seems to be an obvious allusion to the NME after the “Madstock” affair but by closing with the words “they weren’t lies, they weren’t lies” makes the true meaning very cloudy, surely he is not admitting that what they printed is true, is he? “The More You Ignore Me, The Closer I Get”, “Used To Be A Sweet Boy” and “I Am Hated For Loving” could all be easily construed to be critic orientated merely by their titles.

Morrissey’s derision of the music industry itself is saved for the album’s understated centrepiece “Why Don’t You Find Out For Yourself?” It reads like advice from a wise man to a budding pop star, and it may well be. “Some men here, they have a special interest in your career, they wanna help you to grow and then, they’ll syphon all your dough” he warns, the tear jerking finale of “I’ve been stabbed in the back, so many many times” is almost too much to bear, how tragic that the man who claimed “the sunshine’s out of our behinds” on the first song he ever wrote (Hand in Glove) has become so tainted, luckily for us his class has proved more permanent than his vigour. It is this class that allows him to make potentially self-indulgent pieces to morph into counsel without being polluted by self-righteousness.

However, Vauxhall & I is not an entirely grave work. The issue of the catchy “The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get” as a single preceded its release. It propelled Morrissey into the top 10 for the first time since “Interesting Drug” back in 1989 and showed he had lost none of his knack for making catchy records.

Musically the album is by far the most refined in Morrissey’s solo canon. Boz’ Boorer and Alan Whyte share the unenviable task of filling Johnny Marr’s role as composer for one of the most uncompromising lyricists of all time but here more than in any other works they succeed. Rumours abound (mainly among the more romantic members of The Smiths hardcore) that Johnny Marr himself helped out in parts. Although undoubtedly false there is little higher praise that can be placed upon them than to have their work mistaken for the most talented musician of his generation. The sympathetic production of Steve Lillywhite is equally accomplished.

The dramatic finale of “Speedway” closes the record appropriately; a pounding drumbeat builds to a crescendo and then silence. A powerful closing to a moving chapter. Morrissey may never make another album comparable to this, he certainly has not so far, “World Of Morrissey”, “Southpaw Grammar” and “Maladjusted” which have followed are all made to seem average by contrast. However not many people were expecting Your Arsenal, therefore who can say. What is for sure, though, is that Morrissey has made an album that stands proudly against anything by The Smiths, and though I am fond of all that they released, to truly know the extent of his talent Vauxhall & I is an absolutely essential album.