"The Smiths meant absolutely
zip to me when I was growing up. I wanted freedom, adrenalin and noise,
not suffocating sixth-form poetry and anal song-craft. Or so I thought.
These days I'm finding myself spinning The Smiths more and more, genuinely
marvelling at Morrissey's fantastically pithy and beautifully melancholic
lyrics.
Maybe it was the times that were against them for me. The mid-1980s were
an awful time for English independent music, dominated by footballers
in trench-coats like New Order and Echo And The Bunnymen, and somehow
The Smiths - whom posterity has shown to be a million miles removed from
such artlessly grey dorks - were caught up in it all. Even today they're
seen as being part of some classic continuum of Great British Bands, alongside
dullards such as The Stone Roses and Oasis, yet none of these groups could
boast a personality quite so puzzling and unique as Morrissey. And for
me The Smiths quite simply were Morrissey, with guitarist Johnny Marr
merely helping him channel his hilariously idiosyncratic worldview.
1986's The Queen Is Dead is undoubtedly their finest moment. The production
is muggy and thick, all late-winter breath, and Morrissey is at his funniest
on Bigmouth Strikes Again and Frankly, Mr Shankly. Still, it's There Is
A Light That Never Goes Out that hits you in the guts every time, a beautiful
paean to getting out, to the pull of the city lights, to all that lies
ahead of you. Just heartbreakingly gorgeous. "
|