While some were still wandering around whistling Ravel’s Bolero after Torvill and Dean’s gold medal win in Sarajevo, something new and intriguing bled out of the UK’s third-largest city.
The Smiths launched their eponymous debut album forty years ago, which certainly made an impact. Everything about it seemed fresh, from the captivating front cover to the often barbed and bitter lyrics about love and sex from an awkward-looking frontman. Musically, whilst deftly crafted and tighter than a gnat’s chuff, John Porter portrayed it with a somewhat flat production. You would expect that to detract from the recording. It transported you to a damp, dingy bedsit with mould on the walls, a dodgy gas fire and a libidinous landlord.
Initially released in the UK as a 10-track vinyl LP, the cassette version contained eleven tracks, including ‘This Charming Man’. It hit number two in the UK charts and received critical acclaim. Has the passing of time and all of its sickening crimes been good to this album, or has it aged badly like a vegetarian sausage lost behind the cooker during the excitement of Italia 90?
Whilst class is said to be permanent, fashion is a far more fickle mistress. However, certain items never go out of fashion. Think of this album as the little black number – you don’t wear it often, but it oozes style and quality when you do. Despite forty years, this album still sounds excellent. More importantly, it remains relevant. It gave a voice to people who felt invisible, marginalised or confused about their place in the world. It was certainly music embraced by those who saw themselves as outsiders. Many people can emphatically relate to that in 2024.
Whilst Mr Morrissey may have lost fans due to his more recent verbal outbursts, his lyrics certainly stand the test of time. Dealing with topics such as love, loss, sexuality, infatuation, and personal insecurities, they remain constant in our lives and fluctuate in relevance throughout our existence. Morrissey always managed to find a different approach to his writing: sometimes brutal, sometimes playful.
“I look at yours, you laugh at mine/And love is just a miserable lie“, Moz proclaims despairingly in ‘Miserable Lie’ – an excellent example of the brutal approach. ‘Hand In Glove’ sees the playful aspect on show – “Hand in glove/The sun shines out of our behinds/No, it’s not like any other love/This one is different because it’s us!” But it was ‘Suffer Little Children’ that caused a furore, seeing the album removed from sales in all branches of Woolworths and Boots. These retailers also pulled the single ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’ as ‘Suffer Little Children’ featured as the record’s B-side.
Written about the infamous Moors murders, Morrissey always claimed his intentions for the song were honourable. Listening to how the words are delivered and the beautiful guitar of Johnny Marr, it is hard to see it as anything other. However, it does show that Morrissey wasn’t afraid to go to strange places for his craft.
Of course, all of these lyrics would mean nothing without good music, and The Smiths produced plenty of that on this album. While Marr gets all the plaudits and deserves copious praise, Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce deserve their share. Rourke was a better musician than he realised, something many echoed after his death in 2023. Joyce kept everything tight and unselfishly allowed Rourke and Marr to flourish.
I’ve listened to this album multiple times while writing this article. It still excites me. Whilst it takes me down memory lane, it also echoes through the ages with many bands since being influenced by The Smiths. If you haven’t heard this LP before, track it down and settle in for 45 minutes of distinction. If you have it sitting on a shelf gathering dust, give it a wipe and immerse yourself once again.
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