8. The SmithsThe Queen Is Dead
This is peak Smiths, definitely. I can remember coming to London to a CND peace camp in 1985 and at the end of the 10 days we were there, there was a sort of disco. And I remember this very attractive young man. I don’t know how he did it, but he found some gladioli in a bush and he had them stuffed in the back of his jeans. I’d never been more entranced! I think there was soil on the dance floor.
It’s hard now, with the lens that we view it through, but my God – what a time! What a fucking combination of talents they were. I wish the Morrissey of then would look at himself now and think, how did that happen? But maybe the clues were always there? It’s strange. But at the time, The Smiths were untouchable.
It’s such an extraordinary burst of guitar-led creativity: pop optimism married with insanely bleak lyrics and world-view. How can you explain the marrying of the moors murders aesthetic with jangling pop music and yet somehow make it work?
