Sometimes it’s better to be a cult legend than a stadium-filling anthem band. That’s certainly the case for The Smiths, paragons of jangly guitar rock and nonsense lyrics that dominated the indie side of the radio for much of the ’80s. Morrissey and company might just be the most perfect band of their time.
Notice that I didn’t say the best band of the Eighties. That title would belong to R.E.M., who share many things in common with the Smiths (a sexually ambiguous front man, a gifted guitarist, and a great rhythm section that often goes unnoticed). But the Smiths knew when to quit; they closed down in 1987, torn asunder by the classic “irreconcilable differences” that have ground many a career to a halt. Given 20 years have gone by since the world last twirled around with gladiolas in their back pocket and wondered if they really were miserable now their girlfriend was in a coma — why should anyone give a damn about the Smiths?
Because their fan base is still fervent and growing, that’s why. When I say I’m a Smiths fan, that doesn’t mean I bought all of their records when they came out. I was in grade school, incubated by whatever was big on the radio at the time (Huey Lewis seems to have been the soundtrack of my youth), and I didn’t know Morrissey from Morris the Cat. Not until I got to college, which was some 10 years after Morrissey and Smiths guitarist Johnny Marr last shared a stage.
My first roommate in college was a Phish fan, a pothead, and a late sleeper. I had morning classes and a penchant for stealing the newspapers my frat neighbors had delivered to their dorm room because I was passive-aggressive about getting back at them for their loud, drunken parties. When I moved out the following semester, my second roommate was a fan of everything ’80s, and the music of Manchester, England, in particular. Thanks to his influence, I picked up a used copy of “The Queen is Dead,” and it also served as a gateway drug to the other great bands that came out of England during the decade best known for narrow ties and Eddie Murphy movies.
But that’s not the whole story. Morrissey is still making music, and good music too (from what I’ve heard). Recently, he played a show in Atlanta to a packed audience, including many kids who were way too young to even know The Smiths back in the day. Hell, Morrissey (the celibate vegan who flaunts his asexuality like no other) is huge with Latino gang members in Los Angeles, according to SPIN magazine.
That’s saying something for a band that’s been off the radar since the Reagan administration. And their influence is most apparent on Belle and Sebastian (who share a penchant for weird album covers and copious singles with the indie legends). Last year, Marr became a member of Modest Mouse. How soon before a reunion, you ask? Probably never, considering the vicious battle over royalties that put the band back in the spotlight in 2001. But as long as there are misunderstood kids looking for music that speaks to them, The Smiths will never go out of fashion.
