I thought long and hard about putting this extract from the book on the blog; mostly, because as can be seen from below, I am not hugely over-enamoured with The Smiths. On the other hand, I did write about them this way and although it was just how I felt about them when I write it in July 2012, my views haven't changed much since then. Back when "The Queen Is Dead" was released I did quite enjoy them; but like many things in life, tastes change. I did not write this piece with the sole intention of upsetting anyone who likes the Smiths-if I have, then I apologise. You may love The Smiths; I love The Fall. After all, it is only music and it would be boring if everyone liked (or disliked) the same things! If it makes for an interesting and friendly discusssion, then it's all worth it. Anyway-here it is..(enjoy?)
July 21st
The Smiths-How Soon is Now-Hatfull of
Hollow
I was a
bit of a latecomer to The Smiths and only started listening to them properly when
“The Queen is Dead” was released. It did prompt me to get their earlier albums
and I sort of was still into them when “Ask” came out. Maybe it was a bit of a
relief when they split up because it was all wearing a bit thin with me by then
anyway. The Smiths were an odd sort of band. I’m generally wary of artists who
have obsessed fans. Obsessed to the point that only “their” artist knows the
true way and they elevate them to quasi-Godlike proportions. Like Morrissey and
Smiths fans. ( I may be ever-so slightly obsessed with Dylan and The Fall for
example, but I can recognise when they bring out some real clunkers- Dylan’s
1973 album and The Fall’s Interim are prime examples of where it went badly
wrong for them. They’ve also played some atrocious live shows. I’ve heard more
than one CD of Dylan live where he sounds like he couldn’t be arsed at all and
where it would have been more interesting if he’d jumped on stage and demonstrated
how to fry an egg. I’ve seen The Fall many times and although they are
generally spectacular, there have been occasions when it’s degenerated into a
total mess. And not in a good-so-bad-that-is interesting-way but in a-that’s-just-shit-way).
However, to hear some fans of Morrissey and The Smiths you’d never think that
they released anything that was below par or ever played a gig that was ever so
slightly off. In fact, they’d have you believe that every single one of The
Smiths and Morrissey’s records stands head and shoulders above any popular
music that’s ever been recorded, and actually is the greatest art of all time.
You can forget about Bach, Beethoven, Stravinsky, Da Vinci, Picasso, Joyce,
Shakespeare and the rest, Steven Patrick Morrissey is your man. The words of
genius that have dribbled from his mouth are worth much more than all the above
combined. It’s easy to see how personality cults arise. How many misguided
fools given up the pleasure of a bacon sarnie to follow in the vegetarian footsteps
of Their Glorious Leader?
From all
of this you’d think that I don’t actually like The Smiths that much. Well, not
that much, but they were alright. I think I could come up with enough songs of
theirs to just about fill up one CD. This one would be on there as well as
“Death of A Disco Dancer” and a few others. I like The Smiths for the music
rather than the lyrics. If I could have an album comprised of Smiths
instrumentals then that would do me fine-Johnny Marr, to me, was always by far
the best thing about the band. There is a common assumption that the Smiths
lyrics were what made them special. That wit, that dark humour, that word play.
This is something that Morrissey has traded on for years and has propped up his
increasingly desperate solo career, like rotting beams in a flooded mine. It’s
the Emperor’s New Clothes. He’s become more and more bitter, grumpy and
irrelevant as time has progressed, and any faint vestiges of humour evaporated
well before the Smiths split up.
(By the
way, I’d still rather be stuck in a lift listening to Dylan’s 1973 album on a
constant loop than sitting on a tropical beach, sipping a long cool drink
and listening to any single track off
Morrissey’s solo albums).
If you've enjoyed this (or would like to read more from the book, wherein other artists are written about, sometimes postively,sometimes not so much), then here's a link:
Thanks!
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