“I’m doing very well. I can block out the present and the past now,” are the first self-assured lyrics we hear Morrissey sing on his new record, Years Of Refusal, and no matter if it’s a boast or a plea the words carry an implicit desire for us to separate, or even forget, the music and the myth of Morrissey’s past from his current output. We’d be better off, like he is, if we managed to pull off the feat. And with this recent statement to Filter Magazine you get the sense that he wants this album to represent some sort of an end to a conversation that he feels has gone on long enough, “I don’t want to go on much longer, really. I think that would suggest a lack of imagination. A certain lack of dignity also. There has to reach a point where you’ve said enough, I think.” And, viewed as such, Years Of Refusal, Moz’s first new record in three years, would mark a fitting and confident finish to a career that I won’t even attempt to define here.

The record starts out combative enough, with punchy, driving guitars, and the lyrics quoted above, followed immediately by one of Morrissey’s countless, and classic, kiss-off’s, “I know by now you think I should’ve straightened myself out. Thank you. Drop dead.” It’s clear, and has been for decades now, that he makes and breaks his own rules, and couldn’t care less about how we choose to classify him and his music (and, if that approach wasn’t evident enough, the Years Of Refusal title just drives the point home). It’s a strong start to an assertive record, with Morrissey in fine voice, and the songs themselves spunky and current. Production on the record was handled by Jerry Finn (Bad Religion, Green Day, The Offspring), who unfortunately passed away shortly after recording was finished. And that fact, along with Morrissey’s lack of a US record label to handle distribution (which has now been sorted by Lost Highway records), led to the release of the record being delayed until Feb. 17th (it was originally scheduled to be released in September of 2008). And, the harder edge that Finn’s been bring to Morrissey’s music as of late really works well on this record when combined with Moz’s always combative lyrics and the feisty sound of his band.

The momentum continues on the driving, propulsive “Mama Lay Softly On The Riverbed” which features a gritty guitar solo that only emphasizes Morrissey’s “Life is nothing much to lose” chorus. Jeff Beck plays guitar on “Black Cloud,” which unfortunately is the most interesting part of the song. It’s a bit bland, musically and lyrically, even with (perhaps because of) the venerable line up, and is over before anything really interesting happens. Current single “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris” finds Moz’s tongue planted firmly in cheek, as he intones how nobody wants him and that “only stone and steel accept my love.” It’s classic Morrissey, but falls short of past love-letters to Camden and Rome, simply because there is no apparent reason why Paris is singled out, for it isn’t the only city with stone and steel. It’s a simple track in the end, and the subject matter is as uncomplicated and brief as the song itself.

The record picks back up with the bass-driven “All You Need Is Me,” which, along with the cowbell-propelled “That’s How People Grow Up,” were the two new tracks that were featured on Morrissey’s Greatest Hits album from 2008. Both of them gain significance and depth by being placed in the midst of this current and exuberant batch of songs, rather than being the only reason for old fans to want to pick up the cash-grabs that Greatest Hits packages inevitably become. The songs are therefore livelier in the context of this record, despite being the oldest songs on the album, with Moz lending the songs his familiar swagger and swing and the band matching that confidence every step of the way. The lyrics “There’s so much destruction all over the world, and all you can do is complain about me,” shows that the self-seriousness that has always been part of Morrissey’s veneer has disappeared, and he realizes, as he hopes his fans do, that these are just pop songs, after all.

Every time I hear the beginning of the mariachi-laden “When I Last Spoke To Carol,” I hear the acoustic guitar intro to Flight Of The Concords and I laugh—someone is ripping someone off here, and I’m tempted to think it’s Morrissey’s band co-opting the FotC intro, since this record isn’t due out until the 17th. Perhaps it’s just an homage. Whatever the case may be, it’s an upbeat, buoyant song, despite having rather downcast lyrics about growing tired of a relationship with someone who is getting older and can’t do a thing about it. The threatening “One Day Goodbye Will Be Farewell” just seems to echo the point Morrissey made in his Filter interview, and is as good of a coda to his career as any song he’s written recently.

But the jewel of the record is the sprawling, anthemic “It’s Not Your Birthday Anymore,” that is epic in every sense of the word. “All of the gifts that they gave can’t compare in any way to the love I am now giving to you, right here, right now, on the floor” could be the greatest set of hysterically confident lyrics ever penned by Morrissey or anyone else. It’s a grand kiss-off, and a warning to those that think everyone means all of the nice things they say to you on your birthday. I bought a ticket to Morrissey’s State Theater show just on the off chance that I might see him perform this song live. It’s that good.

Unfortunately, and perhaps understandably, when compared to the triumph of “Birthday,” the rest of the album lags on for a bit until the raucous closer “I’m OK By Myself” that finds Morrissey standing tall amid the spiraling guitars and pounding drums, wailing “This might make you throw up in your bed, I’m OK by myself and I don’t need you, and I never have.” It’s a sublime and confident close to the record, and if it becomes the last song on Morrissey’s final record, it’s a fitting exclamation point to bring his oeuvre to a close, and a sturdy send off onto whatever direction he decides to go next. This record is sure to silence any of the critics that feel Morrissey has somehow lost the plot, and also shows all of his fans that even if Moz doesn’t feel he needs you anymore, he thanks you in a way that only he can for being there to blow out the candles.

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Also: (Morrissey on Jimmy Kimmel Live)