The Smiths was a band of indie rock superheroes, a group that, for once, needed very little help from the British press to convince listeners of their greatness. They were noticed for Morrissey’s great singing and Johnny Marr’s guitar playing. But, more than anything, and certainly bigger than the controversies, great songs seemed to them arrive easily and out of nowhere.
The Smiths weren’t together long. The group practically only made four studio albums. The consensus seems to be that “The Queen is Dead” is the best by a country mile.
But who decides these things? And, are they right? I am looking back at “The Queen is Dead,” mourning for Alain Delon and reviewing the album so as to try and answer some of those questions.
The Smiths’ Road to Making “The Queen is Dead”
There are some stories that are part of rock n’ roll lore and uttered so much that they’ve become a cliche. Just like Dylan falling off his bike, or Elvis being forced to join the army, many will know about how Johnny met Stephen.
Johnny Marr was a former football youth, sported a cool haircut and walked with a swagger. He played guitar and wanted to start a band.
He was advised to visit the home of Stephen Patrick Morrissey, a bookworm, who was shy, angry about it and adored punk and glam-rock bands.
They were the opposite of each other, but found enough common ground to immediately start writing great songs. Many would try to copy them. Most would fail.
The Smiths’ brand was guitar pop remade in the group’s image. Marr played wonderfully melodic, angry folk, picked guitar. Morisssey sang theatricality and wrote witty, funny lyrics about the things that mattered to him – fear of intimacy, a devotion to veganism and a hatred of the Royal Crown.
There weren’t many songs like that on the radio. None, actually. But The Smiths’ songs were good enough that they deserved to be played on the radio. Certainly moreso than the plastic synth-pop or, even, the repetitive post-punk of the day.
Their first titled album caught the attention of indie-rock fans. Their next, “Meat is Murder” practically relaunched guitar bands in Britain. “The Queen is Dead” was the album that every one of their fans hoped that they could make. But is it really that good?
Legacy of The Smiths and “The Queen is Dead”
Most people in England, unlike Morrissey, love the monarchy. But most people in England also adore “The Queen is Dead.” Speaking badly of either one may involve having your visa refused on arrival. I will tread carefully.
“The Queen is Dead” contains the highest concentration of great songs by The Smiths. The experiments, with sounds and lyrics, have also never been braver. There is a confidence that wins you over. And, yes, despite the numerous soundalikes, hearing the album drops you into a unique world of songs and stories just like listening to The Beatles, David Bowie, or R.E.M. does.
It’s not all perfect though. But maybe that is part of its charm.
Let’s start with the great. And by great, I mean, truly otherworldly, inspired work that stands alongside any music produced by any classical or pop composer.
“I know It’s Over,” with its tale of broken vows and utter despair is gorgeously sister. It’s no wonder that Jeff Buckley, a man who once called The Smiths “the only good things to have happened to music during the 1980s,” covered it.
Marr makes his folk guitar sound positively apocalyptic on “Bigmouth Strikes Again.” It’s a single that shocks and delights no matter how many times you’re lucky to hear it.
Repeated listens to not affect the greatness of “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out,” arguably The Smiths’ greatest moment, one where the beauty of Marr’s music madly fights to meet the intensity of Morrissey’s words about kids maddened by love and by boredom.
And, Morrissey’s dark wit and misantrophy are never better represented on his ode to Oscar Wilde, “Cemetary Gates,” or the fantasy of murder of “The Boy with the Thorn in His Side.”
That’s half the album, and nobody would dare complain about spending money on such a fine collection of songs.
But, just like Morrissey would step on the bones of saints and kings to get to his truth, let me try and search for the courage to tell it about the rest of the songs.
Album opener, “The Queen is Dead,” is really funny. The dissonant music, reminiscent of the techniques used for “How Soon is Now?” grow on you. But it’s longer than it could’ve been, and exists primarily to let Morrissey settle old scores.
“Frankly, Mr. Shankly” contains some marvelous lines, such as the one about wanting to catch something worth being ashamed of, but the music is rather silly, belonging to a drunken night in a tavern.
“Never Had No One Ever” is essentially a blues, but fine otherwise. “Vicar in a Tutu” has a go at the Church, contains a great chorus, and a slightly muddled verse. And album closer, “Some Girls Are Bigger than Others” feels patched on to this from an old rehearsal tape.
Are there traces of genius even on these songs? Sure.
Legacy of “The Queen is Dead”
From the singles, to the artwork depicting a young, fatally wounded Alain Delon, everything about “The Queen is Dead” is iconic. It is the definitive indie-rock moment. And, it’s a moment that, bar a few releases, we risk never seeing repeated.
Fro the Village Voice, to Rolling Stone, critics loved it. They still do, as Pitchfork or NME, consider it working against the rules not to include it among their list celebrating the best albums ever made.
It also sold reasonably well, becoming a #2 hit in the United Kingdom. But The Smiths were not satisfied. They may have been oddballs, but they were ambitious.
The album caused a rift between the band and the record label, Rough Trade. But by the end of their short war, Marr and Morrissey were also in sick of each other and pulled the plug on the band after one more studio album.
The Smiths have not reunited, despite pleas to do so, making their original run all the more special. Morrissey carved out a successful solo career, as did Marr, Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce.
“The Queen is Dead” is a high watermark for indie-rock creativity, and the ones to make something just as good may be in their bedroom sulking as we speak.
