MORRISSEY, these days, makes better headlines than he does records. In recent times the Mancunian mouth has been lambasted for being dismissive about mass murder and called the Chinese “a sub-species” over the country’s animal rights record.

Up on the Glasgow Hydro stage on Saturday he broke off from inflicting his trademark nihilistic melancholia on the audience to attack our First Minister. “Do any of you actually like Nicola Sturgeon?,” the singer asked the stunned congregation. “Those hands will be in anybody’s pockets.”

This little polemic didn’t quite have the divisional effect of Moses and the Red Sea parting, but the boos were as loud as those he had once aimed in the direction of The Smiths’ band members who successfully sued his sorry ass for royalty payments.

Yet, although the quiffed crooner managed to bifurcate the Glasgow crowd (the FM later suggested, in so many words, he shut up and sing) Ms Sturgeon also defended his right to free speech.

And you don’t have to be a fan to take this stance. Morrissey’s lyrics are at best interesting (he did write great titles however; who couldn’t love Vicar In A Tutu?) but Johnny Marr’s music could have been written by a four-year-old with a broken ukulele using just three minor chords. I don’t like Morrissey’s voice, but he deserves to have one.

READ MORE: Did he really say that?

Yes, you may feel solipsistic, needy performers all too often feel the need to bleed into the social fabric, perhaps to sell an album or a tour. And sometimes that need manifests itself in a need to share pseudo-philosophical meanderings or even to save the world.

Yesterday, Hunger Games actress Jennifer Lawrence declared she is to take a year off from acting “to fix democracy.” Now, it’s unlikely the lady will actually manage this, given the concept has been sorely tested since the ancient Athenians sold us the idea. Perhaps when done proving the Trump-Russian connection she could sort out Brexit, or the Arab-Israeli conflict? Lawrence declared her intent with: “It’s just anti-corruption and stuff trying to pass state-by-state laws that can help prevent corruption.” Now, I’m not too sure what this means but it sounds well-meaning. And if nothing else it’s as valid as dressing up for a living. And if it stops her making daft movies such as Mother! Win-win!

There is an argument pop stars and actors more often than not don’t have the intelligence or articulacy to justify crashing into the world of decision making.

It’s claimed they usually end up like Niamh Connolly, the Father Ted character based on Sinead O’Connor who wrote songs about how “the Catholic Church in Ireland secretly had lots of potatoes during the famine and they hid the potatoes in pillows and sold them abroad at potato fairs.” And there is a case to suggest our institutionalised performers’ opinions can only run as wide as their swimming pool or tennis court.

But simplicity can still work. It may have sounded infantile when Boy George sang “oh war is stupid” or Lennon begged us to give peace a chance but those voices resonated. It may sound hollow to hear St Bono Of Ireland preach yet Ethopia was certainly thankful Geldof opened his great moaning gob and raised £100m. Schoolchildren were thankful Jamie Oliver raised awareness of what they were having to stomach. Alan Cumming’s voice did add to the independence debate. And when Elvis, who had steered clear of politics, sold to Nixon the idea he become a drugs czar (a stranger to irony) at least it publicised the fear America’s youth were in danger of becoming Elvises.

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Now, it’s hard to work out if Morrissey is clever or just likes to be provocative. When he wrote his biography he demanded Penguin release it as a Penguin Classic. (In their infinite daftness they agreed.) A chancer or a clever strategist? And perhaps when he dissed Nicola Sturgeon what the songbird was really saying was “Nicola, what is it with this new taxation system? Why are you instilling a working class divide in Scotland with the UK; and why are you not taking a pop at the massive earners in public authority work?” Perhaps.

At least he prompts debate. And his song lyrics signal his on-stage meanderings. In The World Is Full of Crashing Bores he sang: “What really lies beyond the constraints of my mind? Could it be the sea with fate mooning back at me? No, it’s just more lock-jawed pop-stars. Thicker than pig-shit. Nothing to convey. So scared to show intelligence. It might smear their lovely career.” And at least he’s a dissident voice in Scotland, given the arts world seem fearful of nationalist consequences.

We need our performers to say what they think, even if it’s a Lulu declaring themselves Thatcherite. It still takes us in the direction of discussion. And you can still appreciate the immaculate To Sir With Love without your head exploding. So let’s applaud artists when they use their public platform to sing out loud. Except for Chris Martin, of course. No one really should have to hear what he has to say.