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The Smiths are a defining British group, a band whose catalogue only seems to increase in prominence as the years pass. Indeed, they embody all of the characteristics a classic band should: a powerhouse rhythm section, a flamboyant yet introverted guitarist, and a singer who spends an equal amount of time on the charts and in the tabloids.
In their short but profoundly creative run, The Smiths pepped Top Of The Pops with iconic performances, while layering the music press with insightful, provocative interviews. Passing into history at the end of the 80s, the band have never reformed – indeed, it’s never even looked likely.
While we may now profoundly disagree with much of Morrissey’s more modern pronouncements, there is no extinguishing the impact that the Smiths had on our lives. With Smiths fans hosting a Twitter play-along this week, we decided to put our heads together and compile a personal list of highlights from their illustrious catalogue.
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‘Ask’
For any anxious, indie-obsessed teen, The Smiths are a right of passage, an awakening. And what better track to wake you up than ‘Ask’?
Swept up in the throws of young love, beginning to navigate the duality of shyness (and coyness), the beauty behind the nerves and the crippling effect they can have. You’re left grasping at your old self; unable to say no to the one you love. And as you attempt to embody the ever-popular phrase, ‘Make Love, Not War’, in actuality you’re left trapped between the two. Trying to evaluate whether you’re in love, in the backdrop of a political system that is against you. Fearing death and solitude over being left with someone who doesn’t love you. United by ‘bombs’ rather than a meaningful connection.
It’s quite uplifting as far as The Smiths go. It’s no wonder we were such moody teens.
(Megan Walder)
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‘This Charming Man’
Could this be one of the greatest indie songs ever written? We certainly think so.
From the instantly recognisable guitar riff to the lyrical genius of Marr and Morrissey, this is a song that deserves all its accolades. Johnny Marr used 15 tracks of guitar on ‘This Charming Man’, and the intricate layering elevates the track to a new level.
The language used in ‘This Charming Man’ is a world away from the North of England in the 1980’s. It’s hard to imagine hearing someone utter ‘Ah, a jumped-up pantry boy’ in the heart of Manchester in the 80s and beyond.
The song is not just one of the most influential songs of its generation, but it’s also the most downloaded song by The Smiths and Morrissey too. Effortlessly fusing angst with joie de vivre, ‘This Charming Man’ is a tour de force and one of The Smiths’ most beloved songs.
(Emma Harrison)
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‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’
A teenage guitar virtuoso, Johnny Marr’s imagination was blasted into the stratosphere by the possibilities of the modern studio. His desire to multi-track guitar parts opened by the session for ‘What Difference Does It Make?’ – itself a golden Smiths moment – this approach perhaps reached its apogee on ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’.
Morrissey’s voice fades away to sighs, leading to a near-orchestral movement of guitar parts, interlocking with angelic purity. A song that never repeats itself, the continual evolution that underpins ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’ seems to dissolve into pure sound, the guitar solo that mirrors Morrissey’s voice on the coda – “I’ve seen this happen in other people’s lives and now it’s happening in mine” – part noise, part melody, and wholly genius.
(Robin Murray)
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‘Reel Around The Fountain’
The opening track on their debut album, ‘Reel Around the Fountain’ is both innocent and tainted. As Morrissey wistfully retraces what seems like a pure and sweet relationship gone sour, the song feels like it gets progressively darker. Be it the funeral-like organs that linger in the backdrop or the obvious sexual undertones, a semblance of childhood innocence begins to crumble. Marr’s jangly guitar lines resurrect a playfulness as Morrissey sings, “I dreamt about you last night / And I fell out of bed twice / You can pin and mount me like a butterfly.”
But as the song fades in and out, it’s clear that each artistic decision represents another broken element of a tarnished and complicated relationship. ‘Reel Around the Fountain’ has been subject to its own controversy in the past, but it deals with the reality of power imbalance and infatuation in an emotionally wrought and poignant way.
(Sahar Ghadirian)
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‘Back To The Old House’
The Smiths are a band whose music is imbued with an emphatic sense of place. Absorbing the atmosphere of Manchester, this is mirrored by a sense of disconnect; the band are comprised of a generation whose often grew up in traditional working classing housing, only to watch those communities abrasively moved, uprooted and placed in quick-fix tower blocks.
This sense of dislocation and regret comes to mind when re-listening to ‘Hatful Of Hollow’ highlight ‘Back To The Old House’. A spartan acoustic lament recorded for John Peel, it features a spider-like Marr guitar line, one that recalls his hero Bert Jansch while enveloping you in a web of melancholy.
Morrissey’s vocal is haunting, the lyric placing emphasis on what he doesn’t say. What are those “bad memories”? Why does the past linger so potently? A song about trauma, adolescence, and survival, set against the huge societal changes swinging through Thatcher’s broken land.
(Robin Murray)
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‘Paint A Vulgar Picture’
A defining voice of ‘80s music, it makes sense to suggest that lyrics for this song might have been written shortly before the start of the recording of The Smiths’ final album, the complex ‘Strangeways, Here We Come’ from 1987. Johnny Marr’s well-rounded guitar lines give little away in terms of the theme of the track, but in lyrical terms Morrissey’s stinging attack on the recording industry could not be more direct.
“Best of! Most of! / Satiate the need / Slip them into different sleeves! / Buy both, and feel deceived!” The idea of coupling sublime, uplifting melody with clever lyrics was a familiar technique utilised by the Manchester group, who became deeply embedded in British music culture. The song is, and probably always will be, an articulate perspective on the music industry, a critique from somebody who felt infiltrated at the time. It remains a modern classic, and has stood the test of time.
(Susan Hansen)
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‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want’
Pleading, wistful and evocative, ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want’ with its acoustic Celtic waltz beat and maudlin lyrics is classic Smiths. Written from the perspective of someone in desperate need of a better run of luck, Predominantly written by Johnny Marr, sonically this is a deep dive into the traditional Irish music he was raised on in England.
This track complete with its cascading mandolins exquisitely captures the sense of longing for getting your heart’s desire and aspiring for better times. Despite being lauded as one of the best songs of The Smiths, it was never released as a dedicated single. ‘Please’ was a B-Side to the fantastic ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’ and later featured on the 1984 compilation album, ‘Hatful of Hollow’.
Had it been released as a single, it’s highly likely that it would have achieved a Top Ten position, increasing their total number of top ten hits from three to four.
Good times, for a change indeed!
(Emma Harrison)
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‘Cemetry Gates’
Glittered with references to literary greats, ‘Cemetry Gates’ features some of the best ironic musings on plagiarism. And who would’ve thought a song about cemeteries and death could sound so alive and exciting?
This track is truly a literature lover’s dream, even despite its misspelling (intentional or not). Sonically, it’s pure acoustic pop: springy, animated, and (of course) full of life. Johnny Marr never fails to open our ears to sweet and bright guitar tones, but what strikes me the most about this song is Morrissey’s unbridled wit and irony. Passion and melancholy aside, he educates us with a humour-filled masterclass on critiquing plagiarism and venturing through graveyards. He does all this while heavily borrowing his lyrics from others, like the 1942 screwball comedy ‘The Man Who Came to Dinner.’ That is the genius of Morrissey.
(Sahar Ghadirian)
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‘The Headmaster Ritual’
The gripping sense of realism of the ‘Meat Is Murder’ album opener comes from a dark place. As the explosive rhythm section and jangly guitars come together, scene and cast members line up, so they are ready for the start of the song. The year is 1985, and the state of Manchester schools ought to have seen better days.
Atmospherically and lyrically bleak, the song represents an unnerving assessment of the school system, where smacking was a regular, if not daily, occurrence and the process of learning was run with military precision. The stark realism, its ability to create vivid images in one’s mind makes the song unrivalled by just about anything else out there. “Belligerent ghouls / Run Manchester schools / Spineless bastards
all / Sir leads the troops / Jealous of youth”. A bold, uncompromising statement, this Smiths song seems as urgent as it must have done at the time, and remains a key moment.
(Susan Hansen)
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‘Well I Wonder’
There is so much beauty in the atmosphere created within a song, and ‘Well I Wonder’ gives us just that, in all its subtlety and sadness. Taken from ‘Meat Is Murder’, the track begins in a sombre tone with a simple bassline that opens wide a flurry of bright acoustics and tambourine flourishes. Morrissey’s dream-like vocal stretches echo a lullaby, reaching heights as they fade into the sound of rain. As the rainfall closes the song, it’s hard not to feel a comforting sense of closure, reminding listeners a little of home.
‘Well I Wonder’ understands invisibility, fatigue, and the whispers surrounding heartbreak, especially as we hear Morrissey’s weeping vocals of unrequited love and desperation… “Please keep me in mind.” Bleak lyrics like “Gasping, dying, but somehow still alive” wake you up as the acceptance of futility and loneliness becomes a reality.
(Sahar Ghadirian)
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‘Stop Me If You Think You’ve Heard This One Before’
Late to work again? If you use the excuse ‘broke my spleen and broke my knee’ then you better hope that your boss isn’t a fan of The Smiths. Better blame the rail strikes then!
‘Stop Me’ is another Johnny Marr and Morrissey belter! The song was first released on the group’s 1987 album ‘Strangeways, Here We Come’ but was pulled as a released single in the UK due to the line “and plan a mass murder…” UK radio stations and specifically the BBC objected to the song’s lyrical reference to mass murder in the aftermath of the tragedy of the Hungerford Massacre.
Despite this, what cannot be denied is the brilliance of Marr’s thundering guitar work and Morrissey’s captivating vocals and witty lyrics, all of which make for quite an undeniably captivating song bouncing around themes of self-medicating with alcohol, deception and the fragility of relationships.
(Emma Harrison)
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‘How Soon Is Now?’
While it is too easy to overstate when compiling lists of the best by the best, it’s impossible when it comes to ‘How Soon Is Now’.
Probably The Smiths’ most enlightened song, and one of their most spectacular-sounding, this 1984 release was initially a B-side to ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’, and — even more surprisingly — has never reached the UK Top 10.
The watery wall of instruments that wax and wane, Marr’s guitar that scythes like a Doppler effect clocktower, the distant whistles sinisterly calling, and the line: “…so you go and you stand on your own / and you leave on your own / and you go home / and you cry and you want to die”: all of these things and more make “How Soon Is Now” a profound solo listen as well as an unlikely club belter. The apogee of the years that Morrissey and Marr wrote together.
(Jessie Atkinson)
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‘A Rush And A Push And The Land Is Ours’
The opener to the band’s deeply underrated final studio album ‘Strangeways, Here We Come’, ‘A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours’ is unique for its guitarlessness as well as some of Morrissey’s most casually poignant lyrical work.
“I travelled to a mystical timezone / and I missed my bed / and I soon came home” — one of the first phrases of the track — engenders a similar sense of pithy truthfulness as the much-repeated ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’ line “I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour / But Heaven knows I’m miserable now”.
Another highlight comes with “And people who are weaker than you and I / They take what they want from life”, which invites us to wallow in a strangely satisfying mire of bitterness. Thanks for the self-pity fuel, Morrissey!
(Jessie Atkinson)
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‘William, It Was Really Nothing’
One of the most remarkable facets of Morrissey’s work during the 80s is his economy of language. Take ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’ – propelled by Marr’s barn-storming guitar and The Smiths’ excellent (and often overlooked) rhythm section, his words touch on class differences, gender role play, and disappoints in love, all framed by kitchen sink drama.
An exquisite pop song topped with a remarkable, freewheeling vocal, “the rain falls hard on a humdrum town” hits home for any youth spent idling away hours many miles from the nearest large town or city.
A song that screams with life, it is widely taken to be a nod towards The Associates’ Billy McKenzie. The two vocalists are rumoured to have had a short relationship – indeed, Billy’s home city Dundee is one of few places to be directly name-checked in a Smiths song: “Dublin, Dundee, Humberside” on ‘Panic’.
Morrissey is keeping tight-lipped, while a reformed Associates had fun with the rumour, penning ‘Stephen, You’re Really Something’ in 1993.
(Robin Murray)
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‘Bigmouth Strikes Again’
‘Bigmouth Strike Again’ is perhaps one of the most well-known and revered songs from The Smiths. From the Smiths’ inception Morrissey had maintained a position in music where he was either loved or loathed, a reputation which has very much endured. People either thought he was other-worldly or wanted to burn him at the stake. ‘Bigmouth…’ captures that feeling in the height of the band’s success, the lyrics situate Morrissey as the protagonist, where he shuns the media and critics for the constant berating he took.
It would be nothing short of criminal to not give Johnny Marr the rightful praise he deserves on this track. The man who produced some of the best riffs known to man claimed the track was inspired by the Rolling Stones ‘Jumping Jack Flash’. The thunderous percussive elements give it the euphoric feel that isn’t always present in the Smiths’ discography.
Overall, the track just really does just feel like Smith’s showing off the fact they were a total one-off. The same critics who’d lauded Morrissey were gleaming in sheer admiration at the lyrical dexterity and the classy guitar breaks. No doubt Morrissey’s face would be gleaming with a knowing nod to the irony of the music industry once it was released.
(Josh Crowe)
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‘Rubber Ring’
Another example of the incredible versatility of The Smiths’ B-sides, ‘Rubber Ring,’ stands as the band’s most self-aware number. Coupled with the effervescent ‘The Boy with the Thorn in His Side,’ ‘Rubber Ring’ changes the pace to a stately swagger with Andy Rourke’s bass leading the charge. While Morrissey’s focus on overcoming an awkward youth is a staple theme, this beloved deep cut’s praise of teenage fandom strikes deeper. Here we see the band acknowledge that the songs that truly meant something to you as a teen, and that, indeed, “…saved your life” are often cast away when we ‘mature.’
While still filled with Moz’s trademark wit, “Yes, you’re older now, and you’re a clever swine” – there’s a sense of honesty and sincerity too – “But they were the only ones who ever stood by you.” Over Marr’s psychedelic guitar licks and a brooding mellotron, we have a band begging not to be forgotten as time goes on. No chance of that, it seems.
(Sam Walker-Smart)
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‘Nowhere Fast’
Filled with some of Morrissey’s wittiest wordplay and boasting a killer opening riff from Marr, ‘Nowhere Fast’ is also one of the few tracks we’ve footage of being recorded. With cigarette nonchalantly dangling from mouth, Marr lays down a jacked-up skiffle beat while Mozz verbally throws a finger up to middle England.
Mocking people’s obsession with household appliances, the monarchy, and feeling melancholy at the sound of a passing train, ‘Nowhere Fast’ is The Smiths’ greatest themes condensed into two and half minutes. Often overlooked due to the band’s more dreamy fare, this album cut from ‘Meat Is Murder’ sees the band at their most muscular, stripped back, and sassy.
The group’s detractors may have seen them as music for wallflowers, but ‘Nowhere Fast’ displays four musicians birthed in the ashes of punk.
(Sam Walker-Smart)
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‘The Queen Is Dead’
‘The Queen Is Dead’ was the title track from The Smiths’ third album. The confrontational name might have appeared to be a mid-1980s response to The Sex Pistols track from ten years before, but it was, in fact, named after the controversial second part of Hubert Selby Jr.’s Last Exit To Brooklyn, wherein a transgender prostitute dies of an overdose. Its lyrics found Morrissey oscillating wildly between a sort of pastoral ‘Jerusalem’-esque longing for a lost golden age of Britishness and a comedic rendezvous with Her Majesty (“I know you and you cannot sing,” she tells him). Musically, the song was one of The Smiths’ most joyous and frantic, all skiffly rhythms and sharp guitar work from Johnny Marr.
The group boldly enlisted divisive filmmaker Derek Jarman to create a short film to accompany ‘The Queen Is Dead’, which also included his videos for ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’ and ‘Panic’. Stylistically, Jarman’s work anticipated his film ‘The Last Of England’, which would arrive the following year, with rapid image fluctuations, scenes of London’s demolished Docklands, obtuse camera angles, handsome shirtless boys and fuzzy Super 8 footage.
(Mat Smith)
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‘Panic‘
Breezy sing-song chants from a childrens’ choir, swirling guitars and a sassy two-fingered salute to Mozza’s arch-enemy – pop music! ‘Panic’ is two minutes and twenty seconds of Smiths’ perfection. Bemoaning the pop culture in the 1980s which ‘says nothing to me about my life’, this biting and rabble-rousing track encourages you to not only “burn down the disco” and to “hang the blessed DJ”. Steady on Mozza! There are laws against that!
Giving namechecks to British cities like Leeds, Birmingham and London, ‘Panic’ is a stellar example of how The Smiths strived to make both political and social statements in their work. The evolution of this song was mined from Marr being galvanised by Wham’s ‘I’m Your Man’ coming on the radio directly after the announcement of the Chernobyl disaster.
Did this song court controversy? It did, to an extent and of course this wasn’t the first rodeo for Morrissey when it came to negative opinion. Was it a case of Bigmouth strikes again? Or did he have a point? Either way, ‘Panic’ is a Smiths’ classic thanks to its sheer poetry and that incredible hook.
(Emma Harrison)
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‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’
Part of Morrissey’s gift is being able to paint in broad brushstrokes, presenting an landscape that fans can read their own lives onto, while at the same time offering tantalising detail of an often-hidden narrative. Nowhere is that gift more evident than ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’, a song that truly ranks among the band’s foremost jewels.
Melodically simple, Johnny Marr shelves his complex tunings and deftly overlaid guitar parts for something more direct, yet nonetheless beautiful. Amid the circling synthetic strings and Andy Rourke’s elastic bass part, it’s truly all about Morrissey’s central vocal, a moment of absolute, breath-taking purity. From its opening vow – “take me out tonight” – to the climactic chant, the song offers a vision of communal experience, extinguishing isolation with music, love, and friendship. Recognising how the tiniest of experiences can grow in time to surpass the challenges life throws at them, ‘There Is A Light That Never Goes Out’ has in turn become a communal moment of its own, an indie disco staple and an evergreen in Morrissey’s solo sets. Written with comedic, melodramatic flair, it is quite simply a masterpiece, a manifesto in building connection: “To die by your side, well the pleasure, the privilege is mine…”
(Robin Murray)
