37. The Smiths – The Queen is Dead
You Just Haven’t Earned It Yet, Baby
Ah, The Smiths. Less than two years ago all I knew of them was their name and “indie” street cred. And less than three years ago, that was all I wanted to know.
See, there’s this funny thing that happens when you convince yourself you’re redefined. When I discovered “progressive” acts like Rush and Dream Theater in high school, I didn’t just move away from radio and pop, I swore it off. Cold turkey. Why bother with basic time signatures and market-focused three-minute tracks when there was so much more out there worthy of exploration, I thought. What could 99% of what’s played through Clear Channel, Inc. teach me about emotion, creativity and expression? How could that Product possibly enrich my life?
In my defense, about most of what’s played on the radio (these days), a lot of that is true. But as a generalization, it’s more than just a little ridiculous. It’s the classic kneejerk oversimplification of someone embarking on something they haven’t quite figured out and, so, have no real idea what they’re talking about. It’s the Renounce & Evolve theory. Bartering extremes for experience.
It’s impossible to compare the heart-soaked lyrics that Morrissey brandishes on his sleeve to the allusion-packed concept scripts of Neal Peart’s. How can you set Rush’s balls-out rock sensibility next to The Smiths’ dry, almost flippant tone and tell yourself you’re being fair? These bands, and all bands, are the same in that they share a common goal: to make you feel. Except the means by which they reach that end are all unique. Learn to love the differences and you move from somebody who likes bands to someone who appreciates music.
Is It Really So Strange?
The best thing going for The Smiths (and most consistently executed in The Queen is Dead) is Morrissey’s one-of-a-kind sense of irony and humor. In so many songs, he has this way of smirking as he bares his soul, giving his music an almost double-sided personality—ultimate truth mixed with just the perfect hint of absurdity. Whether it’s love or heartbreak or whatever, it’s this strange ability to be just short of self-deprecating while simultaneously taking himself “too” seriously that gives the band depth and mystique. (“I want to live and I want to love,” Morrissey sings, “I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of.” And then we go, “…Yeah. I can see that.”)
There’s a hopeless, honest, over-the-top sense of romanticism in his songwriting that I think is universal—sometimes subconsciously and sometimes because Morrissey’s extremes are the way we might wish things really were. On the latter side of the spectrum, we have “There is a Light That Never Goes Out,” and these classic lines:
If a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die.
And if a ten-ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine
…Okay. We can see that. Right?
But the most surprising track on the record, and one of my favorite examples of a darker Morrissey at work, is the album downer “I Know It’s Over.”
This is a song so gruelingly wrenched in despair, a song so pitiful and sad, that you almost wouldn’t notice that it’s about a love affair that never actually happened. The way I read it, it’s told from the perspective of a guy who could never muster the courage to express himself to the object of his fantasies, and now she’s getting married to someone else. Under that pretense, the idea is a little funny. But written as it is in a first-person style, we see someone so trapped in depression, pessimism and loneliness that it sometimes feels like he’s literally dying. And then it’s sad again.
Watch his thought process below, how the word “even” is thrown in (line 4) to cue a seemingly positive sentiment, only to reverse on itself to show how the guy can’t even get a break inside his own imagination.
I know it’s over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real
And you even spoke to me and said:
‘If you’re so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you’re so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very entertaining
Then why are you on your own tonight?
If you’re so very good-looking
Why do you sleep alone tonight?
‘I know…
‘Cause tonight is just like any other night
That’s why you’re on your own tonight’
…
Oh Mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head …
Talk about brutal. God, I love that.
There’s not a huge sense of the tongue-in-cheek in “I Know It’s Over,” but the melodrama is all there, in spades*. Emotions are so heightened and expanded here that you can’t help but be enclosed inside of them. This character isn’t just lonely, he’s crippled. And it’s a credit to Morrissey as a vocal force that we buy into all this instead of casting it off as adolescent or pulling the terrible “aww” card. It’s a dare that we can’t possibly win: try not to participate in this anguish.
*Another great example of Morrissey at his direct and melancholic best is “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” from a couple of their b-side releases. I’ll take any chance I can get to reference this song. It’s perfect.
But as a whole, The Queen is Dead is not at all a depressing album. Stopping on a dime, it shifts toward airy, upbeat ditties like “Cemetery Gates,” fun ones like “Frankly, Mr Shankly,” and plenty of others laced with Morrissey’s patented dry and sarcastic wit, like “Bigmouth Strikes Again” (“And now I know how Joan of Arc felt… la la laa la laaa…”).
There’s nothing about this album that I dislike. I think it’s truly one of the best examples of Good Pop that you could find, playing to all of the strengths of the genre/style without ever lending itself to its pitfalls. It has sense of humor, it’s fun, sad, happy, sweet, thoughtful, tongue-in-cheek. It’s a piece that gets better and better with every listen. And once you realize that you’ve fallen for sad 80s British pop, when you’re in your room or cooking dinner and catch yourself doing your best deadpan Morrissey impersonation (“I’d rawtha be famous than righteous or hoeely, any day, any day, any dayyyyy”)… you start thinking twice before generalizing.
Listen:
“There is a Light That Never Goes Out”
This entry was posted on Friday, September 3rd, 2010 at 1:44 pm and is filed under cd reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
