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THE SMITHS The Queen is Dead
Apologies to the numerous fans, but I've never considered The Smiths among the essentials in the history of Rock.
They were a great singles band, and certainly "“This Charming Man” is among the most significant tracks of the 80s, in transporting the jingle-jangle sound of the sixties into the murky context of their decade. They certainly marked an era — socially more than anything else — and influenced several bands, (although the quality of the followers was often poor, especially in the brit-pop realm). However, I struggle to find in Morrissey and company's repertoire a single album with the organic completeness and expressive richness that would make it a cornerstone. A “Zen Arcade”, a “Murmur” or a “Daydream Nation”, just to stay in the 80s: something that etches its authors' name into legend.
I don't think “The Queen is Dead” is an exception, although it is often mentioned when someone enjoys drawing up lists of the best albums of all time. The first single released is, unsurprisingly, the best episode among the 10 present: “Bigmouth Strikes Again”, with its immortal guitar riff and Johnny Marr's Byrds-scented Rickenbacker leading the dance. Not that there aren't pleasant moments in the grooves of “The Queen is Dead”: the title track and “Vicar in a Tutu” — not transcendent in their Kinks-like echoes — are at least brilliant frescoes of Thatcher's England, and “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others” is certainly among Marr's most inspired compositions, skillfully backed by an unusually concise and effective Morrissey in describing the harsh reality of life. Unfortunately, there are also several frankly inconclusive tracks that constitute the soft underbelly of the work. “Frankly, Mr. Shankly” and “Cemetry Gates” are harmless and annoying pop songs, while “Never Had No One Ever, “I Know It's Over”, and “The Boy with the Thorn in His Side” have seriousness equal to their stagnation. In these latter ones, old Moz takes the center stage, with a mannered lyricism (the cornerstone of the unbearable miserabilism that will punctuate his solo career), his soporific stories of teenage angst, and some irritating vocalizations. Of quite another breed is “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”, in which Morrissey's grandiloquence manages to live up to its own grandeur, crafting an epochal masterpiece of teenage angst (who remembers the splendid quote in Irvine Welsh's novel “Trainspotting”?), among bus crashes and exquisite arrangements orchestrated by Marr.
Paradoxically, the best album by the “Smiths” is perhaps just the epitaph “Strangeways, Here We Come”. The only one without memorable singles, but with a handful of compositions capable of broadening the stylistic spectrum of the band. It is no coincidence that the only thing Morrissey and Marr still agree on today is considering that the highest point of the “Signori Rossi” trajectory. Nothing extraordinary here either, but we already said it. Single bands sometimes remain so for life.
Tracklist Lyrics Samples and Videos
01 The Queen Is Dead (06:24)
(Oh! Take me back to dear old Blighty,
Put me on the train for London Town,
Take me anywhere,
Drop me anywhere,
Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham
'Cause I don't care,
I should like to see my...
I don't bless them)
(Farewell...)
to this land's cheerless marshes
Hemmed in like a boar between arches
Her very Lowness with her head in a sling
I'm truely sorry but it sounds like a wonderful thing
I say: "Charles, don't you ever crave
To appear on the front of the Daily Mail
Dressed in your Mother's bridal veil?"
And so I checked all the registered historical facts
And I was shocked into shame to discover
How I'm the 18th pale descendent
Of some old queen or other
Oh has the world changed or have I changed?
Oh has the world changed or have I changed?
As some 9-year old tough who peddles drugs
(I swear to God, I swear)
I never even knew what drugs were
And so I broke into the Palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said: "Eh, I know and you cannot sing!"
I said: "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano!"
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But when you're tied to your Mother's apron
No one talks about castration
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
Like love and law and poverty
There are the things that kill me
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But the rain that flattens my hair
These are the things that kill me
(All their life, they make love, and pierce through me)
Passed the Pub that saps your body
And the church who'll snatch your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
Passed the Pub that wrecks your body
And the church - all they want is your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
(Life is very long when you're lonely)
02 Frankly, Mr. Shankly (02:19)
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss me
I want to go down in musical history
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the 21st Century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
Fame, Fame, fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still I'd rather be Famous
Than righteous or holy, any day
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill
I want to Live and I want to Love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
Oh I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain in the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
Still I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
(Oh give us your money!)
05 Cemetry Gates (02:41)
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now?
With loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived
And then they died
Seems so unfair
I want to cry
You say: "Ere thrice the sun hath done
salutation to the dawn"
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well and I've heard them said
A hundred times (maybe less, maybe more)
If you must write prose or poems
The words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarise or take 'on loan'
There's always someone, somewhere
With a big nose who knows
And who trips you up and laughs
When you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh
When you fall
You say: "Ere long done do does did"
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text
From whence was ripped
'Some dizzy whore', 1804
A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
But you lose
'Cause weird lover Wilde is on mine
(Sure!)
06 Bigmouth Strikes Again (03:14)
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said I'd like to smash every tooth
In your head
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said by rights you should be
Bludgeoned in your bed
And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her roman nose
And her walkman started to melt
Bigmouth.. bigmouth..
Bigmouth strikes again
And I've got no right to take my place
To the Human race
And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her roman nose
And her hearing-aid started to melt
07 The Boy With the Thorn in His Side (03:17)
The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the Hatred there lies
A murderous desire for love
How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me?
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they, will they ever believe me?
The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the Hatred there lies
A plundering desire for love
How can they see the Love in our eyes
And still they don't believe us?
And after all this time
They don't want to believe us
And if they don't believe us now
Will they ever believe us?
And when you want to Live
How do you start?
Where do you go?
Who do you need to know?
08 Vicar in a Tutu (02:22)
I was minding my business
Lifting some lead off
The roof of the Holy Name church
It was worthwhile living a laughable life
To set my eyes on the blistering sight
Of a vicar in a tutu
He's not strange
He just wants to live his life this way
A scanty bit of a thing
Covered with a decorative ring
Wouldn't cover the head of a goose
As Rose collects the money in the cannister
Who comes sliding down the bannister?
Vicar in a tutu
He's not strange
He just wants to live his life this way
The monkish monsignor
With a head full of plaster
Said: "My man, get your vile soul dry-cleaned!"
As Rose counts the money in the cannister
As natural as Rain
And he dances again, my God
Vicar in a tutu..
The next day in the pulpit
With Freedom and Ease
Combatting ignorance, dust with disease
As Rose counts the money in the cannister
As natural as Rain
And he dances again and again..
With a fabric of a tutu
Any man could get used to
And I am the living sign
And I'm a living sign
I'm a living sign..
09 There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (04:03)
Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
Who are young and alive
Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Anymore
Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people
And I want to see lights
Driving in your car
Oh please, don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their home
And I'm welcome no more
And 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
Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care..
And in the darkened underpass
I thought: 'Oh God, my chance has come at last!'
But then a strange fear gripped me
And I just couldn't ask
Take me out tonight
Oh take me anywhere, I don't care..
Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Oh I haven't got one
And 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
There is a light that never goes out
10 Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others (03:14)
From the ice-age to the dole-age
there is but one concern
I have just discovered
Some girls are bigger than others
some girls are bigger than others
some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers
As Antony said to Cleopatra
as he opened a crate of ale
oh I say
Some girls are bigger than others
some girls are bigger than others
some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers
(Send me the pillow
The one that you dream on
Send me the pillow
The one that you dream on
And I'll send you mine...)
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Other reviews
By humax4
Rightly considered by many as the album of consecration.
Absolutely a must-have in one’s private collection of rock music.
By pinkoSpallino
The singer Morrissey had a very expressive and redundant voice, and he told stories with irony that reflected the decay of England during the Thatcher era.
The image of the couple dying in a crash on one of the classic double-decker buses is certainly one of the most famous in the history of English pop.
