Never Had No One Ever
And if a double-decker bus crashes into us
To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die.
The song played in the car as I sat next to my best friend of years, and I really believed it that night: death by his side would be such a gift. I could see it happen before my eyes, flashes of white from cars passing by, and my sweet friend laughing over something stupid I must have said, but don’t remember anymore. I had heard the song before, but this was the first time I was paying attention to it: an impossibly lonely voice holding hands with the brightest melody. That night, I loved it almost as much as I loved my friend.
This is how I remember being introduced to the alt-rock band the Smiths, an inconsequential night made inexplicably memorable by their music. Formed in 1982, and loved by Summer Finn amongst many others, the Smiths are a group one cannot forget.
They gave their first public performance in October, 1982 at a student music and fashion show, “An Evening of Pure Pleasure”, at Manchester’s Ritz. What followed was a short-lived but stellar career running from 1982 to 1987, where they gained millions of fans, re-defined music and paved the way for musicians that followed, before getting separated for good by September, 1987.
With lead-singer and primary lyricist Morrissey, guitarist Johnny Marr, bassist Andy Rourke, and drummer Mike Joyce, the music made by The Smiths was unlike any other. Their melodies were fresh and upbeat. Their lyrics consisted of lines cherry-picked from the loneliest and most earnest corners of a person’s heart. The instrumentals were world-class. The band members were unique in their style and mannerisms. They had everything needed to leave a lasting impact on the world of music, and that they did.
Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loves Me
Morrissey was the man behind most of the songs’ lyrics, and topics explored by them include heartbreak, love, despair, on top of several political themes, especially in their later albums. An excellent writer, he wrote lines that were heartbreakingly poetic, laced with a cheeky sense of humour that is often developed after a great deal of suffering. This resonated deeply with the audience, and still does.
A recurring theme is loneliness or more specifically, alienation and social isolation. The way they describe it, being lonely can sometimes be less of a circumstance, and more of an inherent part of you: definitive and inevitable. When Morrissey tells you “If you’re so funny, then why are you on your own tonight? I know, ‘cause tonight is just like any other night. Love is natural, and real but not for you, my love.” in his heartbreaking vocal timbre, you really believe it. You see your loneliness take an ugly but discernable shape. The song is echoing around the walls of you, the persistent repetition driving it deep into your heart, each time more heartfelt and final than the last. There’s no denying it. You’re alone and you always will be.
A personal favourite is ‘Asleep’, which is a suicide-note turned lullaby. It draws from the sentiment that towards the end, our helplessness and need for a saviour drives us closer to childhood than anything. Having suffered so much already, the singer wants to be sung to sleep, never to be woken up again. Death is a common theme across the Smith’s discography, but here it is paired with one of their most stripped-back instrumentals. It’s quieter, almost speaking to you privately. Underneath Morrissey’s melancholy voice and the sombre piano, a howling wind permeates the track, inducing the feeling of an emptiness like no other. The resignation finds you before the hope does, which is small but present: a soft, tinkling melody towards the end, characteristic of lullabies, as one listens to the simple but sincere lines, “There is another world. There is a better world. There must be. There must be. There must be.” There must be.
Through their music, the band also explored several social and political themes. ‘The Night has Opened my Eyes’ is speculated to be about the dilemma of abortion for a young knocked-up woman who has been abandoned by her lover, whereas ‘Meat is Murder’ is the pro-vegetarian title track of their second, politically-strident studio album. The cover of the album used a photograph titled “Soldier Rests”, which featured Marine Cpl. Michael Wynn in Da Nang, South Vietnam. The wording on the helmet “Meat is Murder” was previously “Make War Not Love”, a witty jab at the heightened glorification of war as the solution to all conflicts.
Their lesser-known single, ‘Shakespeare’s Sister’ refers to Virginia Woolf’s feminist essay talking about how if Shakespeare had a sister, she wouldn’t receive the same fame and accolades.
In his study of their work, Andrew Warnes termed them “the most anti-capitalist of bands”, rightfully so, given their third album ‘The Queen is Dead’, which spent twenty-two weeks on the UK charts, was previously titled ‘Margaret on the Guillotine’, as an extension of Morrisey’s disdain for Margaret Thatcher. He saw Thatcher’s actions as damaging for the country, and openly expressed this in interviews.
"The entire history of Margaret Thatcher is one of violence and oppression and horror ... I think that we must not lie back and cry about it. She's only one person, and she can be destroyed.” (Morrissey, from an interview in 1984)
The album’s self-titled song’s introduction hints towards a wish to go back to a better Britain, one not under Thatcher’s conservative regime. This is the album that really solidified their reputation as pioneers of music of their time, where they broke barriers in singing about larger than life issues, on top of songs about emotional dilemmas and heartbreaks.
Such profound political commentary may not be expected from someone who is consistently despairing. But it can also possibly serve as a message: your despair does not exempt you from being vocal about the society you live in. Over thirty five years have passed since ‘The Queen is Dead’ was released, and with the recent mainstreamification of The Smiths, it’s often conveniently ignored how subversive the band actually was. Case in point: David Cameron, ex-Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and a conservative, under whose governance poverty and inequality statistics of the UK are far more grim than they were under Thatcher, has called the album his favourite. How ironic! :)
Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now
Other than their resonating themes and cutting yet witty lyrics, what set the Smiths apart from other mainstream bands at the time was simply the fact that they were a stark alternative to the synth-heavy, dance-oriented pop music played by these bands.
The raw, jangly guitar work by the lead guitarist Marr inter-played with Morrissey’s evocative vocals to create music that is immediately recognizable and rather beloved. Ye j
It is wrong to assume that Morrissey was the largest contributor to the Smiths’ consistent success. Both Morrissey and Marr had individual releases far less stellar than anything they created together in the band. Like the brightest star of the sky, which on closer inspection turned out to be two stars revolving around each other, as a band they were greater than the sum of their parts.
The Smiths had a cultural impact extending far beyond their music. Their iconic album covers became emblematic of the indie aesthetic, making use of stills from films with artful design.
The band’s relatable and simple aesthetics, with oversized sweaters, plain denims and thick-rimmed glasses, defied the expected image of a band. They ended up making normalcy look cool. This ultimately might have been at the heart of their widespread appeal. After all, who doesn’t like being told that their hand-me-down jeans and ill-fitting cardigans are good enough? Who wouldn’t find relief in the knowledge that a group producing terrific music was not turning away, but instead leaning into everything commonplace, in all possible ways? Extraordinary art was coming out of something that looked perfectly ordinary, wouldn’t you revel in this playing out before you?
Back to the Old House
The Smiths were formed as a result of a fortuitous meeting between Morrissey and Marr, where eighteen-year-old Marr went round to Morrissey’s house and invited the young and shy writer/amateur singer to partner-up with him. The meeting, as we all know, ended up being incredibly fruitful and the Smiths were born.
Their widely relatable and ‘normal’ aesthetic started out with the band name itself. Morrissey chose it because “it was the most ordinary name and I thought it was time that the ordinary folk of the world showed their faces.” and “simply by having a really straightforward name we were saying that you don’t have to hide behind any veil of artistry to produce something worthwhile.”
With drummer Joyce and bassist Rourke joining the scene, the band quickly gained a huge fan-following with sessions recorded for BBC radio, live shows, and singles such as ‘Hand in Glove’ (their debut single), ‘The Charming Man’ and ‘What Difference Does It Make?’
The star of the live performances was usually Morrissey’s flamboyant and peculiar persona, his self-proclaimed celibacy offset by hints of closeted homosexuality. The songs themselves solidified his image as a spokesman for the despairing and heartbroken youth. Track after track, album after album, the Smiths were riding a wave of success and adoration experienced by few artists.
Like every immeasurably precious thing, it was spectacularly short-lived. By 1986, tensions were already arising in the band, and after a period of failure of their singles to hit the top 10—things only went downhill. Rourke was fired from the band early in 1986 due to his use of heroin.
Marr was exhausted due to the band’s hectic touring and recording schedule, and took a break in June, 1987, but left the band for good by July. Former Easterhouse guitarist Ivor Perry was brought in as a replacement. This didn’t go well for the Smiths: the band recorded material with him which was never completed, and according to Perry, the sessions ended with Morrissey running out of the recording studio. “It was like they wanted another Johnny Marr.” The band had lost something that couldn’t be replaced, and any attempts to do so were inevitably futile.
The band broke apart in 1987, shortly before releasing their final album ‘Strangeways Here We Come’. “It was possibly the most fraught, emotional and oft-lamented breakups in musical history,” said Rolling Stone. Marr commented about the break-up, saying that he and Morrissey “just saw our futures differently.” Another factor that would definitely have introduced bitterness between the four members was the fact that throughout their time as a band, Marr and Morrissey each took a hefty 40% of performance and recording royalties, leaving Rourke and Joyce with only 10% each. A lawsuit demanding equal royalties for the rhythm section followed their separation, which proved fruitful for Joyce (not so much for Rourke.)
Any speculations about the band getting back together died after Morrissey declared in 2006, “I would rather eat my own testicles than reform the Smiths, and that’s saying something for a vegetarian.” He simply believed he had worked very hard since their separation, and it wouldn’t be fair to hand the rest of them the attention they hadn’t earned.
There is a Light That Never Goes Out
And just like that, it was over. Icarus had had his flight, reflected the sun off of his wax wings so for a brief moment, he was the sun itself. He was falling now, but the heights he kissed were to be kept alive for eternity by our belief in his momentous victory.
The Smiths had managed to achieve monumental feats in less than half a decade. Their influence continued to grow long after their dissolution, solidifying their place in music history. Their songs have since served as inspiration for many artists, including well-known ones like Radiohead, the National, Arctic Monkeys, and the Killers.
Matt Berninger of the National could be called the American Morrissey. In an interview, he recalled listening to ‘The Boy with the Thorn in His Side’ on repeat as a violent young weirdo. The music he makes has the same essence of defiance amidst hopelessness that the Smiths’ creations had.
Radiohead’s guitarist Ed O’Brien has deep admiration for the Smiths. He listened exclusively to their records for a period in his youth, and the song ‘Knives Out’ is said to be a tribute to Marr’s guitar style. This admiration has not gone unnoticed: in 2001, Marr said Radiohead were the act that had “come closest to the genuine influence of the Smiths.”
A group of plainly dressed lads in an era of flashy flamboyance, the Smiths gave to the audience a piece of themselves, a jewel-clad chunk of ordinariness bleeding blue with all of their ordinary grief and ordinary despair, all wrapped up in impeccable wit. How could you not fall in love with them?
Written by: Sanskriti Arya Designed by: Nishka Murarka Edited by: Abhinav, Soumya Thakur
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