'The Smiths' by The Smiths (1984)

As far as debut records go, ‘the Smiths’ is a masterstroke.  An unqualified success, that nevertheless stirred controversy due to the, let’s say unorthodoxy, of the lyrical content. The product of a disillusionment or at least a semi-detachment and shared coldness towards early 80s Manchester context, a momentous, seminal band was borne. Here’s a band so unique, so singular, so...Smiths. It’s difficult to compare this legendary outfit to other artists simply because in many respects they’re pretty well a full-tilt subversion of the traditional ‘rock group’. Bombast and brash confidence are replaced by self-confessed “shyness”, unwieldiness and lyrics that delve into profound (but in terms of rock music, atypical) themes. Headlining the band is of course, Morrissey, the acerbic champion of all things awkward, lugubrious and even taboo. A terrific singer and a marvellously creative songwriter- Morrissey is able to fashion prosaic comments on day-to-day Mancunian existence into memorable, exceptionally witty parabolic melodies. Of course, Morrissey’s genius is only helped along by his extremely capable support- guitarist Johnny Marr’s furiously quick chord progressions and eternally novel riffs are an illustrious trademark of the quartet’s sound. Marr’s guitar playing is inarguably extraordinary, and in this debut record, it’s well and truly on show from the get go.

The Smiths was released in 1984- following on from the late 70s eruption of post-punk acts such as fellow Mancunians Joy Division, Public Image Ltd, The Chameleons, Simple Minds etc. the band were able to foster a totally original sound and a wholly distinct image and persona that will prove as enduring as any. A fairly bold move, one might say, is to begin your debut record with a cyclical, sprawling borderline 6-minute song. ‘Reel Around the Fountain’ get things underway and does so in a thoughtful, repeating fashion. The lyrics are evocative and historically have been misinterpreted, generating controversy and whatnot. Whatever the case may be, strong imagery is conjured in the form of a summertime setting, an out-of-the-way fountain, a desperate sense of longing, and quite apparently, deflowering of some kind.  The melody here is both catchy and tender, as is Morrissey’s drawn-out enunciations of the chorus and the line “People see no worth in you, oh, but I do.” In interview once, Morrissey said that “to caress the words” when singing is a virtue, and it’s difficult to argue with that considering the tenderness and sincerity he’s able to imbue in his vocals here. It’s also here that the following point must be stressed: The Smiths’ musicianship and vocals interlock like no other. They work in concert so harmoniously.

Once ‘Fountain’ dissipates (and it closes gracefully) the Smiths launches into the post-punk stridence of ‘You’ve Got Everything Now’, a matter-of-fact lamentation about how once subordinate classmates have now got much more to show for their lives than the song’s protagonist. Morrissey is oft as his most amusing here- curt admissions like “And what a terrible mess I’ve made of my life. Oh, what a mess I’ve made of my life” are wailed ruefully, but self-consciously over the top of Marr’s energized guitar play. It’s a rocky, fast-paced track and an edgy foil for its mellow predecessor. One of the band’s most schizophrenic efforts follow straight after- the randomly sped-up punk-rock of ‘Miserable Lie’. Don’t be fooled by its gentle introduction, for around 50 seconds in, the air of sorrow and pity turns to anger as Morrissey alludes to Wilde in his cynical critique on the shallow mindsets of so many. It’s a grower, this one, slightly off-putting and jarring on first listen, the song’s appeal rises to the surface through multiple listens. Morrissey also unleashes some falsetto at the midway point, which only heightens the sense of desperation when delivering lines like “I need advice, I need advice, nobody ever looks at me twice.”

The album’s forth track, ‘Pretty Girls Make Graves” has a sort of bouncy, undulating bassline and a biting, caustic lyric. It’s one of those oddly affecting tracks that has multiple play value due to its catchiness. The same cannot be said for its successor- ‘the Hand that Rocks the Cradle’ which is a superb song but markedly different and markedly less flippant. Slower, somewhat uncanny, and lyrically dense, images of changelings and Hammer Horror Films era and/or F.W. Murneau inspired monsters lurking about in the shadows come to mind here (“Ceiling shadows shimmy by. And when the wardrobe towers like a beast of prey...”), yet the vocals are delicate and affecting. It’s wonderfully tuneful and also sad, but also, as hinted earlier, rather eerie. Themes of obsession and an nonreciprocal affection seem to be the focal point here.

Before you know it, however, the moral murkiness of that song segues to the instantly recognisable, indelible riff of the hit song ‘This Charming Man’ (that is if you have the US version of the album, the track is omitted on other incarnations). Considered by many to be a standout in the band’s catalog, the song, in all its jangly guitar, semantic innuendoes and crooned vocals remains to this day a quintessential ‘Smiths’ song. Once the vivacity of the track fades, you’re once again assailed by a rip-roaring riff- punk-inspired and  thumping , it evokes the image of an aged steam engine ploughing down an antiquated rail-line, belching smoke and clanking its way towards  destruction. The song in question is ‘Still Ill’, a track that touches once again on disenchantment and hopelessness. However the song is not a downer, the lyric is at times cosmetically depressing but the song is still imbued with this sort of dark humour that propels the track into the stratosphere in terms of enjoyment, as Morrissey dispiritedly advises “And if you must go to work tomorrow, well if I were you I really wouldn’t bother, for there are brighter sides to life and I should know because I’ve seen them, but not very often.”  Faintly humorous, but heartfelt words.

The two-pronged attack of the classic ‘Hand in Glove’ and ‘What Difference Does It Make?” follows, and this twofer were (quite rightly) released as singles. The former particularly, is one of the band’s signature tunes, and features a line that Morrissey himself considers one his most cherished. Seemingly describing a special kind of relationship that transcends scorn from others and able to withstand external pressures, the protagonist speaks of fitting together with this other person,  as the title suggests, in harmony, or ‘hand in glove’.  Once again the track opens with this infectiously catchy jangle riff that is just so ‘Smiths’ in its sound, it’s very, very recognizable. What Difference Does it Make? is heavier, and denounces prejudice. The lyrics ring true, and the music is glorious, when those elements fire, what else need be said?  The mellower, sophisti-pop of ‘I Don’t Owe You Anything’ follows as the penultimate track, and it serves as a pleasant, agreeably midtempo  forerunner to the final song- perhaps the band’s most alternately sad and eerie work- entitled ‘Suffer Little Children’- a name inspired by a biblical passage found under the Gospel of Matthew. ‘Suffer Little Children’ boldly details  a harrowing and unspeakably tragic true crime case twenty years before (referred to as the Moors Murders) and is a tender tribute to those fallen, whilst saying that those responsible will “never dream” and that they’ll haunted by the ghosts of their crimes. It’s admittedly a very difficult topic to elicit yet alone write a song about yet the end product is effective. It’s haunting, uncannily touching and sad, yet at times unsettling, as sounds of someone laughing are embedded over the dark lyrics  (“They will haunt you when you laugh”) towards the back end. It’s a gloomy way for the album to bow out, but it works.

The Smiths made a name for themself big time with their eponymous debut and it’s easy to see why. Here were a crew of true originals. Endowed with a songwriter blessed with the remarkable ability to speak brutally honestly, but humorously too, about things that are often kept stored up within, and deputised by a trio of great musicians, The Smiths will endure for many, many years to come, and this record is as stunning a revelation committed to tape by any youthful group yearning to be heard. It’s a remarkable album, that warrants multiple, multiple replays, as it reveals a little more of itself with each and every spin. Never before have raw emotions and pent up frustrations, admissions of failings, challenges and inner struggles, unspooled to the tune of such wondrous musicianship.

10.0

Jacob Dunstan