The Smiths are just ardinary

Along with REM, The Smiths are probably the top ‘80s band I don’t get, have never liked and fail to understand why they were so popular and how Morrissey has managed to sustain his music career over the past 35 years.

 

I understand that The Smiths quickly became critics’ darlings and were heavily punted and that part of this adoration might have been fuelled and stroked by Morrissey’s media savvy, seeing as how he’d once been a provincial correspondent for the NME. He certainly made a highly noticeable, interesting and even controversial frontman. The lyrics of Smiths’ songs were also quite literate in, when one listens closely, repetitive way. 

 

I heard “Reel Around the Fountain” and “Hand In Gove” on a few Radio 5 (as it then was) shows back in the day, and was moderately entertained by them though the  busy, arpeggiated guitar style (not unlike early REM) didn’t appeal much, I didn’t care for Morrissey’s voice and found the lyrics pretentious.  I wasn’t persuaded to go out to buy their records. The band didn’t seem all that special to me.

 

it was only from reading the NME and The Face that I realised that The Smiths had become a far bigger deal in the UK than I would’ve expected. A couple of years after their break out, the C86 generation of jangly guitar pop bands made their mainstream appearance and seemed to be the most pervasive pop rock sound of the day, yet none of them reached the heights of stardom, acceptance and adulation that The Smiths apparently did.

 

I took note of the various Smiths’ albums that my local record store stocked, especially Meat is Murder, whose title track was the best Smiths song I’d heard on the radio  and passed them by. For ‘80s UK rock I preferred The Cult and U2, and otherwise cast my eyes towards the USA.

 

The other day I watched two clips, well, part of one and most of the other, of The Smiths performing live. The longer clip, at over an hour, was of a concert at the Passeo de Camoens in Madrid in 1985. The shorter clip, at less than 15 minutes, was of a performance on the Channel 4 show The Tube in 1984. 

 

The performance on The Tube is by a young band, just making it’s mark, though Johnny Marr is utterly self -assured on guitar and Morrissey’s weird, awkward floppy dancing could only be done by someone who is supremely confident or just high. A bunch of daffodils stick out of the back pocket of Morrissey’s loose jeans and his shirt is equally baggy. He must have been extremely thin.

 

Mike Joyce keep good time on the drums and Andy Rourke concentrates intently on his bass playing, which is a nice, almost melodic, rhythmic counterpoint to the guitar filigrees Marr plays. Clearly, the rhythm section are not the stars of the show.

 

The audience of hip ‘80s kids in their terribly dated hip ‘80s clothes and hairstyles is rapt and dances enthusiastically while the band performs four or five tunes.

 

It must have been better when one was in the audience than watching  the video so many years later. Marr’s guitar style, although he’s obviously technically very able, lacks punch and the convoluted melodies Morrissey croons in a voice almost devoid of modulation, except for the excitable yelps he makes every now and then, aren’t very catchy at all.

 

The concert at a much large venues and for a much large audience, is when The Smiths were at their pomp but the music sound pretty much like it did on The Tube. Morrisey’s famous quiff is hidden under a hat and he wears glasses but his pants and shirt are still loose and his awkward dancing and arm gestures are still present and correct.

 

As I’ve mentioned, I could sit through only a few songs before I gave up. It might be that the sound quality isn’t of the best but the general impression is that the music is kind of anaemic, almost diffident and with almost no force or drive and Morrissey’s almost emotionless, whiny vocal style starts grating too soon for comfort.

 

Somehow, the band impressed enough journalists to be heavily punted and captured something of the zeitgeist of the audience it drew, to become a phenomenon, a cultural icon and an influence beyond its immediate impact. I don’t get it, but I will accept that, like REM, I might not have been the target market and simply did not have the emotional need for this kind of music.

 

Over the past few years I’ve had a couple of projects where I listened to all the albums of various groups or individuals, in order of release, either because it’s an act whose music I’ve always liked but never got around to buying all, or any, of their records, especially rock acts from my teenage years and twenties, or bands I’ve never rated (Uriah Heep, for example) just so I could hear what I’d missed out on, or had happily ignored. The Smiths was one such project and I don’t think I got beyond the debut album.  The music just didn’t engage me in any sustainable fashion.

 

Perhaps I should attempt investigation the oeuvre again, and persist.

 

There is a another generation of jangly, melodic, guitar based bands (of which Two Door Cinema Club  is a prime example) that might have been influenced by The Smiths and their twee, anaemic sound also grates on my ears. It’s all quite proficient, with high production values and plenty earnestness, but  there is no visceral attraction.

 

I did buy Beethoven Was Deaf (1993), a Morrissey live album, some years after its release, because it was cheap and because I’d read that he was backed by a rockabilly band of sorts and this seemed to me to suggest a tougher, more agreeable sound than The Smiths  provided, and I was right.  Morrissey’s vocals were still quite dispassionate and his melodies were as oblique as ever but the tough band behind him elevated the tunes and provided the requisite visceral element that can make recordings of live shows such compelling listening.

 

Having said that, this album also didn’t motivate me to seek out Morrissey’s studio albums. His music is an acquired taste I doubt that I’ll ever acquire no matter how hard I try.