history

                               Formed Manchester, England, 1982; disbanded 1987.

      The phenomenon of The Smiths is a strange one: four years of incessant critical adoration and some of the most ardent fan worship in rock history, yet hardly a Top 10 hit to show for it on either side of the Atlantic. Yet, without evercoming close to the commercial impact of a Beatles or Nirvana, the Morrissey/Marr partnership couched a generation with some of rock’s most original and stubbornly unclassifiable music.
       The first meeting between Steven MORRISSEY (vocals) and Johnny Marr (guitars), like those of so many great songwriting partnerships, has been the subject of much embellishment over the years, not least by Morrissey himself: ‘Johnny came up and pressed his nose against my window, quite literally. It left a terrible smudge.’ The reality may have been less messy, but the boundlessly enthusiastic Marr was immediately struck by Morrissey’s bookish intelligence and deep knowledge of pop history, while Morrissey was quick to recognize a kindred spirit with the vigour to shake him from his self-imposed isolation. Galvanized by this meeting of minds, and by the successful trial marriage of Morrissey’s lyrics and Marr’s music, the pair forged an intense, full-time partnership and set about creating a band.
        Marr and Morrissey had settled on the name The Smiths long before the final line-up had been established: it was gritty and very obviously English (much like their music), as well as being a reaction against the lengthy, pretentious or just plain daft band names of the time, such as Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark and Haysi Fantayzee. With local musicians Mike Joyce (drums) and Andy Rourke (bass) now completing a sturdy team, The Smiths played their first gig at Manchester’s Ritz club on October 4, 1982, and embarked on six months of sporadic gigging, during which time they excited the interest of Rough Trade supremo Geoff Travis.
It was during this period that Morrissey’s legendary early stage props made their first appearances, too -- the back pocket stuffed with gladioli (later evolving into small thickets), the hearing aid and NHS specs, all of which garnered The Smiths plenty of press attention as they prepared to launch their first single, “Hand In Glove”, in May 1983. Released on Rough Trade, it was an instant success in the indie chart, but mainstream radio and the public at large found its retro imagery and Morrissey’s disconsolate drone decidedly resistible. (A more colourful 1984 interpretation by Morrissey heroine Sandie Shaw fared better, restoring her to the Top 30 for the first time in fifteen years.)
         The months after “Hand In Glove” passed in a flurry of music press hyperbole, Radio 1 sessions (later preserved on the HATFUL OF HOLLOW collection) and major-label interest. Keen to keep their independent flag flying, however, Morrissey and Marr opted to stay with Rough Trade and signed a long-term deal whose financial rewards were potentially substantial, but which ultimately proved inadequate as the group’s success and ambition mushroomed.
By the end of 1983, their reputation had grown sufficiently to send the winsome “This Charming Man” into the Top 30, earning The Smiths an unforgettable UK TV debut on Top Of The Pops. Although they steadfastly refused to make videos until 1986, Morrissey in particular lapped up live TV performances, and was in fine form on the show he had watched since childhood. His arm-flinging, hip-swivelling stage persona was always in sharp contrast to the tortured loneliness and self-doubt which his lyrics expressed, and which he discussed at length in interviews: ‘I can’t converse politely with the man next door. But situations that are considered quite surreal I find intensely natural -- appearing on TV, touring -- they’re nice things to do, glamorous.’
When the group’s first album, THE SMITHS, emerged in February 1984 it was to a buzz of real excitement. Their third single, “What Difference Does It Make? , had teased the UK Top 10, and the album stormed to #2 on a wave of critical euphoria, although its muddy production and rough edges suggested a rush job. (In fact, early sessions had been rejected by the band, and John Porter was drafted in to take over at the eleventh hour.) Technical grumbles aside, the record was a breath of fresh northern air, a collection of vivid finger paintings that, even at this early stage, confirmed the depth of songwriting talent in the group.
          Even the British tabloid press took notice, although their interpretation of Morrissey’s recurring ‘innocence corrupted’ theme as a glorification of paedophilia drew stern denials. There was further controversy over “Suffer Little Children”, a haunting and heartfelt elegy to the Moors murder victims which caused a press backlash and led to some retailers refusing to stock Smiths product. The row was defused when Ann West, mother of one of the Moors victims, described the song as ‘very touching’ and even struck up a correspondence and friendship with the group. The episode caused Morrissey to develop a deep mistrust of the press that sometimes bordered on the paranoiac.
           It was typical of The Smiths that their greatest moment should be hidden away as the 12" B-side of “William It Was Really Nothing”, a 1984 single. For Marr in particular, “How Soon Is Now? was a triumph, his searing guitar drone hovering over Morrissey’s desolate yet defiant lyric: ‘You shut your mouth, how can you say/I go about things the wrong way/I am human and I need to be loved/Just like everybody else does’. This was Marr and Morrissey in perfect, passionate harmony and it became the ultimate Smiths anthem, although an underachiever when belatedly issued as a single in its own right at the beginning of 1985.
Amid a blitzkrieg of Smiths activity at this time came their second album MEAT IS MURDER (1985), which saw Morrissey sitting jauntily astride a new hobby horse, vegetarianism. Lyrically, the album was more direct, less world-weary, while Marr’s multi-layered guitar backdrops and some disciplined performances from Rourke and Joyce took The Smiths to new artistic heights and gave them a richly deserved first UK #1 album.
            The first cracks in The Smiths’ armoury appeared in 1986, when Rourke was fired, as his heroin habit began to take its toll on his performances. Craig Gannon was drafted in to replace him, and he continued for a brief spell as the ‘fifth Smith’ when Rourke was reinstated later in the year. At the same time, a dispute with Rough Trade meant that the group’s third -- and finest -- album, THE QUEEN IS DEAD (1986), was delayed for six months as relations between band and label reached an impasse. When the record finally emerged, it was quickly hailed as a classic, breathtaking in its scale and variety, musically thrilling and lyrically inspired, from the sprightly slapstick of “Frankly Mr. Shankly” to the bleak power of “I Know It’s Over”. Just as the world was digesting its brilliance, The Smiths launched “Panic”, a feisty new song which implored its audience to ‘burn down the disco’. It became another Smiths classic, but, like so many before, it somehow managed to avoid the Top 10.
             Morrissey and Marr’s consternation at this continuing lack of chart glory both at home and in America, where they were regularly playing to packed houses, led to a parting of the ways with Rough Trade at the end of 1986. The Smiths then signed to EMI in a move which Marr described as ‘a merging of two great institutions’, but which had indie purists screaming ‘sellout’. The new deal seemed to drive a wedge between the two songwriters as Marr came to feel increasingly pressurized and constrained by the intensity of being an eight-days-a-week Smith. Over a period of months, the close relationship between the two became strained and ultimately broke down as a burned-out Marr jetted off to LA amid rumours of a permanent Smiths split. Morrissey later reflected on how gossip had fanned the flames of what was initially no more than a communication breakdown: ‘Suddenly we were overtaken by events, and the rumour became reality. But if everybody had remained quiet, the problems could have been resolved in private.’ When Marr quit the band for good, Morrissey, Rourke and Joyce attempted to soldier on (very briefly) as a trio, but it became clear that Marr, rather than Morrissey, had been The Smiths’ secret ingredient all these years.
Although their final, posthumously issued album STRANGEWAYS HERE WE COME (1987) had been completed before the rot set in, its foreboding atmosphere suggested otherwise, as the vigorous self-belief of old was largely absent. The lengthy “Paint A Vulgar Picture”, an attack on record company greed, took on a new irony when Warner Music bought the rights to the entire Smiths catalogue in 1992 and embarked on an energetic campaign of re-promotion which echoed the song’s bitter ‘Re-issue! Re-package! Re-evaluate the songs!’ refrain. Highlight of the album was the incandescent “I Won’t Share You”, whose closing ‘I’ll see you somewhere/I’ll see you sometime’ provided an appropriately poignant epitaph.
            So what of The Smiths’ influence? Is it realistic to cite them as pioneers of Britpop, without whom Oasis, Blur and the rest would be languishing in obscurity? Probably not, but what they unquestionably did change was the public’s perception of ‘alternative’ music. Pre-Smiths, the British indie community was populated by lank-haired shoegazers and hopeless Goths, whose chances of reaching a wider audience were minimal at best. The Smiths’ conviction, integrity and unfailing quality control opened the floodgates for bands such as The Stone Roses and Happy Mondays to reach the mainstream at the end of the decade, buoyed by the credibility which The Smiths had brought to the independent sector. And their music -- seventy-plus songs in four astonishingly prolific years -- remains as vibrant and intoxicating today as it was first time round, surely the most revealing test of all.
            In a business where even Warhol’s fifteen minutes of fame can sometimes seem optimistic, The Smiths stood tall, they made a difference, they truly mattered. © Rough Guides