Despite only being active for five years in the 1980s, the Smiths were easily one of the most influential bands to come out of England in that decade. The band started when Johnny Marr and Steven Morrissey, sonofabitch, met at a Patti Smith gig in Manchester in 1978. The two couldn’t get enough of each other in the early Eighties, in sharp contrast to their relationship after 1987. They split songwriting duties 50/50 and came up with a kind of sound that was utterly distinct from anything being put out at the time. Marr crafted a rock band sound that consciously avoided any of the cliches of either Sixties British psychedelic or Seventies punk rock. This meant no power chords, no overdriven distortion, no familiar rock ‘n’ roll I-IV-V chord patterns, no wanking guitar solos. Like the Velvet Underground, no blues licks. Instead he put together intricate networks of arpeggiated notes, playing chords in a broken fashion that made him sound very busy in the background of every song. He had the jangling, chiming tone that Peter Buck was also using in R.E.M. at the time, but used it in a distinct fashion. Over top of that, Morrissey (*spits*) sang in a soaring, melodramatic fashion that was equal parts New York Dolls/The Cult and Dusty Springfield/Marianne Faithfull. Like Marr, his contribution is also extremely distinctive; you can tell Morrissey (*spits*) from a thousand yards away, and as such, between the two of them, you can tell a Smiths song immediately as it begins playing.

All of this came together in long player for the first time on The Smiths in 1984. They’d signed to Rough Trade on the back of a demo cassette that contained “What Difference Does It Make?”, “Handsome Devil“, and “Miserable Lie” in 1983, a demo that EMI foolishly passed on. The bands first two singles with Rough Trade, “Hand In Glove” and “This Charming Man“, were big in the English indie scene; the latter hit #1 on the indie charts and eventually went double platinum. With momentum behind them, they hunkered down in the East End of London with Teardrop Explodes guitarist Troy Tate to record a debut album. The recording sessions took place during a brutal heatwave, however; the band’s energy was sapped and their instruments refused to stay in tune. The result was an out-of-tune, out-of-time recording that no one was particularly happy with. John Porter, who had recorded Roxy Music’s 1973 album For Your Pleasure, ran into the band and agreed that the sessions were not suitable as a first impression of the band. He offered to re-record the album, which the band did around previously booked tour dates. The end result is The Smiths. Morrissey (*spits*) didn’t like it, either, but he’s a miserable bastard who doesn’t like anything.

The band would make better albums, but their eponymous debut is despite that a classic, a record that showed people that there was still life in the hoary old ghosts of rock ‘n’ roll and pop music. John Peel said he liked the band because you ‘couldn’t tell what records they’d been listening to’ which is pretty much to the point: The Smiths circa 1984 sounded like no one else, and despite the hordes of English bands that tried to imitate them over the next three years no one else came close to sounding like them, either. Morrissey (*spits*) also courted controversy like no one else. He had a morbid sense of humor that was part goth and part Oscar Wilde, and it tended to drive the squares insane. There is a definite theme of child abuse throughout the record, but the English press accused the band of promoting pedophilia (hysterically ironic, considering the English media). “Suffer Little Children“, a song about the Moor Murders, also caused a stir when the grandfather of one of the victims accused it of being exploitative. It was the B-side of “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now” and that single and the LP were briefly pulled from stores. Morrissey (*spits*) would eventually convince people, including Ann West, the mother of one of the victims, that it was sincere and thoughtful. The cover of the “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Know” single generated similar controversy when some newspapers thought it was a picture of Moors killer Myra Hindley (it was actually tabloid constant Viv Nicholson, whose life is bizarre and quintessentially English).