POP MUSIC REVIEW : Morrissey Mania at Hollywood Bowl

Morrissey is the perfect hero for that youthful contingent looking for someone to worship and to identify with at the same time: He’s got gorgeous matinee-idol looks and he’s a geek. Self-admittedly.

So while his stage moves aren’t always the most graceful--and while his romanticism is all about being too much the loner to be a romantic--there might not have been as much classic swooning going on at the Hollywood Bowl since the Beatles last played there.

Yes, the regional phenomenon that can legitimately be described as Morrissey mania hit the sold-out Bowl on Saturday night, in the first of two shows by the British singer there, replete with appreciative screams so piercing they probably woke up Paul McCartney and the sheep dogs.

But even here amid the 18,000 adorees, or perhaps especially here, Morrissey seemed to be--to borrow a title associated with a Hollywood icon before him, Humphrey Bogart--in a lonely place.

There was no mistaking him for any other populist pop star when he bent down, reached out to the fans and made contact while serenading them with the refrain “Poor twisted child--so ugly, so ugly.”

That might be a real conversation-stopper in most concerts, but among the Morrissey faithful, these sour sentiments are accepted as sweet recognition: The special bond of shared insecurity between isolated performer and alienated audience tightened ever further.

But as Morrissey sang the following line, “Poor twisted child--oh hug me, oh hug me,” the ritual that would usually follow was circumvented, as the would-be huggers who usually leap up and swamp the singer at various points during any of his appearances were intercepted by security.

Most artists wouldn’t mind being protected from those fans who would assault them with affection during a performance. But Morrissey--who readily admits having lacked for love and touching growing up--has said that he needs the ritual hugs much more than his followers do, for sustenance.

So was it just our imagination, or did Morrissey almost seem to be wilting a little over the course of the hugless 75-minute set, his effusive good will and gestures growing a little less grand as the show went along?

If he wasn’t quite as “on” as he might’ve been, it wasn’t fatal to the performance; a slightly disaffected Morrissey, after all, is not a Morrissey who’s dropped out of character.

And the show did benefit appreciably from the fact that he’s touring behind his best album since the acrimonious breakup of the Smiths, the Mick Ronson-produced “Your Arsenal,” an all-guitars and no-keyboards effort that--surprise of surprises--rocks again. Happily, the album also steps away from the tendency toward mopey self-parody that had been creeping into some of his post-Smiths work while keeping the ironic wit.

As demonstrated by the intermission music played over the PA, Morrissey has a real fondness for some of the more obscure American “roots” music of the ‘50s as well as the British bubble gum of the early ‘60s. Add to that the fact that he came of age in the glitter era, and all these influences are happily evident in the new songs that dominated the set, from the heavy rock textures of “You’re Gonna Need Someone on Your Side” to the ringing pop of “We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful” to the dead-on rockabilly touches of the sprightly “Certain People I Know.” Morrissey finally seems to have hit his solo stride with a band and sound that do justice to the legacy of the Smiths.

Morrissey is scheduled to appear at the Pacific Amphitheatre on Saturday .