I came late to The Smiths. I knew of them, but didn’t really start listening to their music until “Strangeways Here We Come”. They knocked me out, of course. Morrissey’s unabashed willingness, his insistence really, on giving voice to his angst, insecurities and alienation was a refreshing approach to pop music I’d not encountered before. He couldn’t get no satisfaction and it was his fault, because he too uncertain to grab for it. And he wasn’t even sure satisfaction, if attainable, was even worth it. Pretty good stuff!
Had The Smiths been around when I was in High School, they certainly would have changed my life. As it was, Strangeways prompted me to go about obtaining their earlier albums and compilations. A fan was born.
I’ve seen the band in videos and online. They are another of those bands I wish I could say I saw live. I did catch Morrissey in NYC back in the late nineties, and he was good for sure. Would I go see a reunited Smiths today? Absolutely! I’d go as much to see Johnny Marr as Morrissey. Would I bother schlepping out to see Morrissey again? No, for a couple of reasons.
The mojo has worn off, for one thing. The kind of shoe-top gazing, “I’m so sensitive” music The Smiths pioneered has long been copied and gorged forth by any number of bands and singer/songwriters. A few years ago it was called “emo” or some such. What once struck me as a bold exposition of vulnerability and feeling now amounts to dreamer-type self-obsession under the best of circumstances, and rather sad, attention-mongering wank under the worst.
I won’t say Morrissey has slipped into the latter category. I made it a point to dig “Vauxhall and I”, his 1994 album, out of my CD collection and listen to it again. It actually sounded a bit better than I’d initially thought, but it’s still only “ok” as far as I’m concerned. And that’s my feeling for all of his solo work. It’s Morrissey. He’s delivering the expected gloom, and for those who like him as a performer, I’m sure it’s enough. But I was always a Smiths fan, not so much a Morrissey devotee.
And that the other reason I’m somewhat indifferent to his music. It lacks something. It lacks the drive and push and punch that Johnny Marr brought to the recipe that made The Smiths such a feast. Morrissey, on his own, just isn’t as interesting as The Smiths were. Hey, I know people of good conscience will obviously disagree, but I’m doing the writing here.
And finally, it’s one thing to still see Mick Jagger singing about no satisfaction, or McCartney bashing out “I Saw Her Standing There”, or Brian Wilson singing about getting out his surf board and catching a wave. Most people, no matter how old they are, like to reference their younger days when they were alive and vital and had fun. But an old guy singing about how nobody loves him because he’s sad doesn’t quite do it for me.
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