The Morrissey can suck it.
I hate his voice. I do. I'm sorry. In all it's whiny, monotonic glory, I liken it to a drunken, ex-lounge singer with a bubble in his throat. Hate, hate, double hate. I tried. I fibbed for years, singing and dancing along to some of The Smiths classics, which, of course, are tied to some wonderful times in college I wouldn't hesitate to relive. Nevertheless, the real excitement was never there and my perceived affinity for synthesizer pop was all a facade. I hope some of my friendships aren't severed because of this, but I can't live the lie any longer!
Sorry, Morrissey. Sorry.