94/100 — The Smiths — The Queen is Dead (1986)

I’ve always liked The Queen is Dead, but recently it has captivated me. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m about the same age as Morrissey was when he wrote these songs. He was 27. I’m 29 now. It’s a devastating record. The self-titled album opener repeats the refrain, “Life is very long when you’re lonely” over and over. And yet, it’s stunningly gorgeous. The thick layers of Johnny Marr’s guitars, swirl around each other, while the rhythm section of Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce manage to be a unified chameleon, quickly changing styles and cementing whatever dueling chaos Marr and Moz can come up with. Seriously, the bass tone on this whole album is delicious.

After the dark and brooding opening track there’s the first of many sudden shifts in style as the bouncy “Frankly Mr. Shankly” begins, almost evoking sonic elements of Paul Simon’s Graceland. And later the jangly “Cemetry Gates” sings about escaping a “dreaded sunny day” to somewhere “we’re wanted” and discussing poetry and prose. That’s the part of the brilliance of the Smiths, the darkness juxtaposed against dancing music and a biting wit. Other stylistic shifts include the hilariously titled “Vicar in a Tutu” which is almost a country shuffle, while “Never Had No One Ever” is loneliness incarnate.

My favourite track is “I Know It’s Over.” A lot of lyrics on this album are razor sharp, but here the marriage of sad and sharp, both outwards and inwards, amplify the emotional impact to a crescendo. “Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head,” Morrissey sings as he watches his former lover get married to a “handsome groom” who is “loud” and “loutish.” Yet even though he knows it’s over, he can’t let go, and eventually begins to berate himself,

If you’re so funny
Then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you’re so clever
Then why are you on your own tonight?

Before concluding that it’s because “tonight is just like any other night.’ Brutal. Another line I love from this song is, “It’s so easy to laugh, so easy to hate, it takes strength to be gentle and kind.” But the implication seems to be that Morrissey lacks that required strength.

Yes, sometimes listening to the The Queen is Dead can feel like reading a clever, if not melodramatic, young man’s journal, but I think that’s part of the joy of it all. One moment it can be dark and brooding, but then it rolls its eyes at itself and tries to lighten up, and, failing to do so, descends into bitter sarcasm. These conflicting emotions and forms (not to mention the growing tension between Morrissey and Marr as the band headed towards its own explosion) are a great cause of tension and excitement, both lyrically and musically.

Favourite Tracks: “ I Know It’s Over,” “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”

Least Favourite Track: “Never Had No One Ever”