Though at first I was a little unenthused by Morrissey’s Years of Refusal, it turns out that the album is a grower, not a shower.  (Normally, I would feel bad about making such an obvious joke, but since Moz compared his bollocks to powderkegs on the last record, I think I get a free pass.)  More muscular and aggressive than his past few efforts (think big guitars instead of torch ballads), Years of Refusal’s rock bombast initially covers up the album’s intricate, intelligent structure, but repeated listens reveals that Morrissey hasn’t missed a trick.   From the exploration of how love of a place can supplant love of a person in “I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris,” the seemingly newfound realization that, despite his career of whinging about it, there are worse things than being unlovable on  “That’s How People Grow Up,” and the wry observations on the ambivalent nature of emotional attachment in “All You Need is Me,” Morrissey is still the poet laureate of effete, sensitive souls.

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