… Morrissey's evocative 'no, no, no' betokens, I suggest, the seeping in of a darkness that lies everywhere in wait; that speaks in the name and with the voice of its victim; that separates everything from everything; that is ingenious in its torments and tireless in its persecutions; that turns every defence to its own advantage – including the art that would capture its likeness; that wrestles without giving itself to be wrestled with; that is not dispelled but is intensified by the knowledge that it exists in the eye of the beholder; that has no place of refuge; that answers no call; that gathers everything up into a sterile epiphany and makes of everywhere one's little room. This is the darkness that laps at the edges of Morrissey's vision in so many of his songs, whose ingress is registered by the half-articulate cries of 'no' that recurrently irrupt in their crevices – a darkness which, like Banquo's ghost, is invisible to all but the haunted.

from Gavin Hopps' Morrissey: The Pageant of His Bleeding Heart