FEATURE:
I Don't Owe You Anything
Will The Smiths’ Eponymous Debut Album Get a Fortieth Anniversary Reissue?
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AMONG all of the albums…
IN THIS PHOTO: The Smiths in 1984/PHOTO CREDIT: Chalkie Davies
celebrating big anniversaries in 2024, there is no doubt that The Smiths is one of the biggest. The debut by the legendary group, it was released on 20th February, 1984. Its fortieth anniversary is nearing. It made me wonder whether there will be a special reissue for an album that is enormously influential. Arriving into the world where Synth-Pop was ruling and the music mainstream was a very different make-up, along came a band who started something fresh and urgent. Intelligent, melodic and nuanced songwriting. Morrissey’s intelligent and standout lyrics tied to that distinct tone his voice carries. Johnny Marr’s phenomenal and genius guitar work, together with Andy Rourke’s bass and Mike Joyce’s drums. A terrific band came onto the scene. Sadly, we lost Andy Rourke last year. He knows how much The Smiths’ debut album means to people. I hope that there is appropriate fanfare and celebration around its upcoming fortieth anniversary. The single from the album, What Difference Does It Make?, was released on 16th January, 1984. Even if fans choose later albums like The Queen Is Dead (1986) as the best album from The Smiths, is there a more important one than their eponymous debut? One that changed music and heralded this new sound.
What is quite annoying and baffling is how little has been written about their debut. It is more straightforward than their following albums, though the significance and quality of the 1984 debut cannot be overstated! Why have more features about its value not been written?! It is a strange thing. Plenty of press about the band in general, though not their magnificent debut. An album that does not sound dated at all. The song still shine and sparkle. Classics and standouts like This Charming Man and Reel Around the Fountain played to this day. I will come to a feature where figures in the music industry discussed the influence of The Smiths on them. It all began with their phenomenal 1984 debut. Rolling Stone reviewed The Smiths in June 1984:
“WHEN TOM ROBINSON sang “Glad to Be Gay” back in 1978, he did it as a dirge — the irony, while bracing, was entirely obvious. Six years later, the singer and lyricist of the Smiths — a man called Morrissey — has little use for the ironic mode: His memories of heterosexual rejection and homosexual isolation seem too persistently painful to be dealt with obliquely. Morrissey’s songs probe the daily ache of life in a gay-baiting world, but the bitterness and bewilderment he’s felt will be familiar to anyone who’s ever sought social connection without personal compromise. Whether recalling the confusion of early heterosexual encounters (“I’m not the man you think I am”) or the sometimes heartless reality of the gay scene, Morrissey lays out his life like a shoebox full of faded snapshots.
Given Morrissey’s rather somber poetic stance, The Smiths is surprisingly warm and entertaining. Though Morrissey’s voice — a sometimes toneless drone that can squeal off without warning into an eerie falsetto — takes some getting used to, it soon comes to seem quite charming, set as it is amid the delicately chiming guitars of cocomposer Johnny Marr. And the eleven songs here are so rhythmically insinuating that the persistent listener is likely to find himself won over almost without warning. From “What Difference Does It Make?,” a clever reprise of a venerable garage-punk riff, to the striking opener, “Reel around the Fountain,” and the U.K. hits “Hand in Glove” and “This Charming Man,” this record repays close listening”.
What comparatively little is written about The Smiths is perspective and interesting. In a year (1984) where Pop queens like Madonna were dominating the mainstream, The Smiths’ music seemed so vastly alternative. I know the legacy of the band and their debut is somewhat marred by Morrissey. Even if his lyrics and vocals are wonderful and help make The Smiths what it is, controversy surrounding him in years since makes some feel guilty about embracing the band. I get that. It would be unfair to ignore an album as crucial and iconic as The Smiths because of a quarter of the band. Consequence shared their thoughts in a 2019 feature:
“With its release on February 20, 1984,The Smiths was an instant game-changer. There was nothing like it just yet; it wasn’t as heavy as Joy Division or as rock and roll as Elvis Costello and the Attractions. It didn’t have the elaborate gossamer of The Cure or Siouxsie Sioux’s cathedral wailings. Instead, Morrissey’s drab voice soars and sours in contrast to Johnny Marr’s majestic guitar work, full of mystery and sorrow.
This album opens with a song about child abuse, and it’s not the only one. “Suffer Little Children” is about the five children murdered by Ian Brady and Myra Hindley in what would become known as the Moors Murders. The song was so shocking that the album was removed from several shops, but Morrissey struck up a friendship with Ann West, the mother of Moors victim Lesley Ann Downey, who agreed that the song was written with only the best intentions.
But there have always been songs about crime and hurt. What makes The Smiths so unique is that so much of it revolves around both homosexual and asexual longing — the desire to be desired even if that desire must never or will never be consummated — rather than the traditional love songs or breakup anthems that make up so much of music. “I am sorrow’s native son/ He will not rise for anyone,” he moans on “Pretty Girls Make Graves”. It’s all daring subject matter, even now, to sing about the complex nature of lust, of wanting to be desired without the trappings of sex.
The Smiths even has a lullaby. On a pop album by four childless twentysomething lads. It’s a bold choice for any musician, but “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” is a distinctly Smiths lullaby, full of ominous threats — “There’ll be blood on the cleaver tonight” is gore that would fit right into Grimm’s Fairy Tales — but ultimately brimming with the sort of aching tenderness that Morrissey, with flowers in his back pocket, would make his signature. Perhaps that’s why Morrissey’s descent into curmudgeon hurts so badly — because his lyrics rip apart love into all of the complicated and often contradictory pieces that make it up. Anger and pleasure, need and desire, sexual and familial, Morrissey explores all of these, even when they hurt. Even when they don’t make sense.
“Hand in Glove” is perhaps the best example of this strictly Moz phenomenon. Hailed by the band, at the time, as the best song they’d written, it is The Smiths at their purest, Morrissey with his heart bare and bruised, Mike Joyce keeping everyone steady on the drums, Andy Rourke’s bass warm and inspired, while Johnny Marr’s guitars rain down a sun-drenched melancholy. “No it’s not like any other love,” Morrissey bleats. “This one is different because it’s ours.” It encapsulated what it was like to be a Smiths fan, that there was no other band like it in the world. It says, it’s okay to be tender. It’s okay to be witty. It is love unadulterated by money or sex or gossipy friends, and as such, Morrissey knows it cannot last. That innate understanding of human nature, the ugly pieces we hide from ourselves, is the DNA of every Smiths song, put on full display as though in a lit glass case.
Though “You’ve Got Everything Now” was the debut single, it’s “This Charming Man” that steals the show. It is as perfect a fusion of Morrissey and Marr as there ever was, elaborate, poppy guitars play with, not against, Morrissey’s coy, lilting vocals. “I would go out tonight,” he teases this song’s subject. “But I haven’t got a stitch to wear.”
Listening to any Smiths record is a life-changing experience, whether in 1984 or 2018. No one has been able to match Morrissey’s exact blend of wit and melancholy, the uniquely British charm that cannot be put on or manufactured. It’s a shame of the highest disappointment that Morrissey is such a trash bag, but not even he can ruin what we all once had.
“It just wasn’t like the old days anymore,” he sings on “Still Ill”. We cannot hear The Smiths again for the first time, and we cannot listen to them without thinking, Fuck, man, Morrissey is such a toolbox. But I invite you to put on The Smiths in a quiet room, perhaps with headphones, perhaps in the dark. Listen in full as though it was the first time, recalling who you were and who you are now and how you got to be there. Imagine Morrissey isn’t The Absolute Worst. Chances are you will fall in love with this album all over again in that pure way that you can only love The Smiths, even if just for that moment”.
I will end with thoughts around the fortieth and whether we will get an anniversary reissue. I hope so! First, last year, The Guardian celebrated forty years of The Smiths’ existence. The fact that their debut single, Hand in Glove, was released in May 1983. It is interesting that a track many associate as being on The Smiths, This Charming Man, did not appear on the original U.K. L.P. release. It appears as the first song on side B of the original U.S. L.P. release. The first U.K. C.D. release in 1986 did not include the song; all UK C.D. re-releases since 1993 include it:
“The interplay of gloom and light, of Morrissey’s biting lyrics and Marr’s bright guitars, are what has made the band so enduring for successive generations of British indie musicians, says Connie Constance. The 28-year-old Watford musician counts the Smiths as one of her biggest reference points when it comes to guitar sounds, along with the Clash. “The sound has all the negativity that I think Brits just naturally have,” she says. “It has this gritty, I’m not bothered, moany thing, while having this beautiful layer on top that makes everything feel like it’s gonna be all right.”
Although Constance first engaged with the Smiths as a child, she didn’t realise until later the impact they had on all the other bands she had grown up listening to. “I was listening to their back catalogue and being like, ‘Oh my gosh, this sound is so laced into all of British indie rock,’ from that moment onwards.”
Greater Manchester mayor Andy Burnham, a longtime Smiths fan, remembers that the band “came along at a time when the north-west of England was probably at its lowest ever ebb in recent history. It seemed to me to be a recurrent theme in Morrissey’s lyrics that you can kind of aspire to be more than this. You don’t have to be dragged down by your situation or circumstances.” In Burnham’s eyes, the band gave the region a rare sense of cachet. “When I got to university, people would ask, ‘You’ve seen the Smiths?’ and it was like, OK, I’ve got something that you want – that was important, in terms of building a sense of confidence and ambition.”
Richard King, author of the book How Soon Is Now: The Mavericks and Madmen Who Made Independent Music 1975-2005, says the Smiths created a give and take with their fans that felt fresh. “Morrissey wasn’t an adolescent, but he did seem to know how to articulate the extremes of adolescence, and there were very few people who did,” he says. “There was a sense of generosity and value in every release – the picture sleeves, the tone they used, the B-sides: everything they did had this value that you couldn’t find anywhere else – and it felt like it was coming directly from the band. It meant that the emotional investment that you put in as an adolescent, into the songs and their meaning, you felt like that investment was returned by the band in their quality control and their look.”
Although it had been common to pledge sartorial fealty to a genre or subculture – such as punk or goth – Smiths fans, even before they had released an album, dressed like the Smiths. Although other artists had developed a similar aesthetic sensibility previously, most of them, such as Orange Juice’s Edwyn Collins, took their cues from 1950s Americana, with leather jackets, sunglasses and immaculate quiffs. Morrissey combined the 50s hair with what Reed calls a “studenty” look – raincoats bought from charity shops and vintage stores. That look, now, has calcified into what might be termed the classic indie boy aesthetic: T-shirts and shirts tucked into 501 jeans, thick-rimmed glasses, mismatched or ill-fitting outerwear.
Fletcher saw the band in late 1983, and remembers seeing that “fans were already dressed like them – in London, people were carrying flowers in their back pockets. From 1984, Morrissey had the big overcoat thing, and suddenly you just started seeing people like that. It was like some of them were just coming out of their shell – they were very bookish people who suddenly realised that bookish was fashionable, and they didn’t have to apologise for their NHS specs and being a bit dishevelled and literate and into pop music.”
Burnham remembers Manchester’s Affleck’s Palace as being a centre of the Morrissey aesthetic. “Morrissey created it, but people would go there to replicate it,” he says. “It was vintage 501 jeans before they were as ubiquitous as they became, cardigans, stuff that was deliberately old-school looking. It was kind of an outsider look – it became anti-cool fashion before that existed in our heads.”
He recalls the Smiths acting as a kind of codex for broader culture. When the band performed on the South Bank Show, for example: “I remember everyone videotaping it, and it really laid out a hinterland of references. People started reading Oscar Wilde – it kind of did broaden your horizons, liking the Smiths.” The band’s iconography and music was so strong that despite’s Morrissey’s aesthetic and political shifts after he went solo – on 1988’s Bengali in Platforms he suggested south Asian migrants didn’t belong in the UK, and by 1992 he was draping himself in the union jack – many fans can easily separate the Smiths off in their minds.
The freedom that the band seemed to offer their audience – to remove themselves from staid ideas of how to look, dress or think – was revolutionary at the time. King remembers the way Marr and Morrissey interacted on stage, and the amount of fun they seemed to be having, feeling radically new. “The two of them dancing together as men, but both being very feminine and, in Johnny’s case, quite androgynous, was incredibly powerful,” he says. “It felt to an adolescent audience that it was giving them agency to act differently – two men dancing together not in an overtly homoerotic or political way, but just having fun together in their own unique way.”
Moreover, Morrissey pioneered a musical expression that wasn’t geared towards heterosexual romance – or even romance in general. “To have somebody that wasn’t singing either, ‘I’m in love with you,’ or, ‘You broke up with me,’ but singing, ‘I’m not really sure if I want love, I don’t know if I want romance’ – he managed to encapsulate feelings that so many people had,” says Fletcher. “I don’t think anybody had come along with that.”
Constance says that Morrissey’s less explicitly masculine presentation has “allowed a softer side of men in indie bands to come through” in the years since. “I feel like men can share a bit more in the indie world, and they can sing and get things off their chest a bit more, rather than being just this like brutal anarchist punk or superstar over-sexual glam-rock male,” she says. “Someone like [the 1975’s] Matty Healy – Morrissey was the first of that [archetype]”.
There deserves to be a wave of new features written about The Smiths ahead of its fortieth anniversary on 20th February. There is shockingly little out there right now! Undoubtably one of the most significant debut albums ever, it one that inspired legions of bands. I hope that there is a reissue where we get some extras and demos. The oriignal album either released in a range of coloured vinyl, or perhaps one where we get some remixes. Maybe it is too late to do anything if there are no planned released. I suspect that something has been organised. Look at the legacy of The Smiths:
“Slant Magazine listed the album at 51 on its list of "Best Albums of the 1980s" saying "There's no reason why a mordant, sexually frustrated disciple of Oscar Wilde who loved punk but crooned like a malfunctioning Sinatra should've teamed up with a fabulously inventive guitarist whose influences were so diffuse that it could be hard to hear them at all and formed one of the greatest songwriting duos of the '80s." PopMatters included the album on their list of "12 Essential Alternative Rock Albums from the 1980s" saying: "Morrissey's career are fully accounted for on The Smiths, where they are rendered all the more piercing by Johnny Marr's delicate guitar-picking and John Porter's stark production".
In 1989, the album was ranked number 22 on Rolling Stone magazine's list of the 100 greatest albums of the 1980s. In 2003, the album was #481 on that magazine's list of the 500 greatest albums of all time. The magazine ranked it at #473 on an updated list in 2012, calling it "a showcase for Morrissey's morose wit and Johnny Marr's guitar chime". The album was ranked number 51 on Rolling Stone's list of the 100 Best Debut Albums of All Time. It placed at number 73 in The Guardian's list of the 100 Best Albums Ever in 1997”.
Perhaps their most underrated albums, they would produce more complex and ambitious work from 1985’s Meat Is Murder on. Produced by John Porter, The Smiths was recorded in a piecemeal nature because of The Smiths’ touring commitments. Morrissey felt the finished album was not good enough. He is wrong. There is no doubt how wonderful The Smiths’ 1984 debut album. I just regret it has not been praised and dissected more. I hope that at least a few people share some words ahead of its…
FORTIETH anniversary.