The 500 - #218 - The Queen Is Dead - The Smiths

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #218
Album Title: The Queen Is Dead
Artist: The Smiths
Genre: Indie Pop, Jangle Pop, Post Punk
Recorded: Three Studios in England (London, Surrey, Manchester)

Released:  June, 1986 
My age at release: 20
How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, moving up 105 places to position 113
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Frankly Mr. Shankly

In my mid-teens, I experienced an existential crisis that redefined me and how I saw the world. A specific moment is difficult to pin down, but I can identify some key events that served as the impetus.

• The death of my grandfather, "Pop". He was the first of my grandparents to pass and we had built a strong relationship throughout my childhood.
• A high school course on The History of Art from Prehistoric Man to the Romantic Age, which was taught by Mr. Rick Woods -- who remains one of my favourite educators. "Woodsy" organized a class trip to Italy attended by 30-plus students, including me, during the March Break of 1982 -- a mind-blowing experience.
• I also found "my tribe" -- that group of friends with whom you connect perfectly and who accept you for who you are. I detailed this in my Jethro Tull blog-post in December, 2021.
• Finally, reading Douglas Adams’ novels, particularly The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy series, bent my perspective toward the ridiculous and the philosophic concepts of nihilism and cosmic insignificance -- a path toward the tenets espoused by Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, Camus, and reinforced by the absurdity of the Monty Python’s Flying Circus films and television episodes I had grown up loving and was now old enough to understand.

• 

Change is tough. It is particularly hard when that change pushes against the values, beliefs and traditions of your family. Consequently, I knew it broke my mother's heart when I announced that I no longer believed in God. Prior to age 17 I was devout, attending St. Anne's Anglican Church in Byron with her weekly. I was also a "server", helping the vicar (Canon Pinkney) with the Sunday Communion Service, and a proud member of S.T.A.Y. -- The St. Anne's Anglican Youth group. Granted, the ratio of males to females in that group was about 1:10 – so, there was certainly an additional hormonal agenda behind that membership.

St. Anne's Anglican Church in Byron (London), Ontario.

In retrospect, I could have been kinder and more gentle with my declaration of atheism. Sadly, like many teenagers, I delivered the news with sledgehammer subtlety. Truth be told, I was really transitioning to agnosticism. I appreciated the "historical evidence" of Jesus and had not abandoned the positivity of his teachings. However, I could not be convinced that mankind could fully understand the complexity of the universe and distill the truth about it all. Additionally, I could not reconcile the paradox created by multiple faiths; each by virtue of their own doctrines and claim of exclusivity in the god(s) department. At best, only one of the 4,000 recognized faiths on our planet could be right. That's not taking into account the vastness of our universe and the chances of intelligent life on other planets.

My monarchist mother's heart was further battered as I learned more about history and became vocally critical of the British Royal Family. I had, until high school, been a product of an education system that celebrated everything colonial and downplayed (or outright eschewed) the impact colonialism had on indigenous populations.

Which brings me to this week's record, The Queen Is Dead, a 1986 masterpiece from Manchester quartet The Smiths, the title song parodying the media’s fascination with the British Royals. For those of you who have followed me on this journey through The 500, you will know that I became a reluctant convert to the post-punk sound of (lead singer) Steven Morrisey and his backup band comprising Johnny Marr (guitar), Andy Roarke (bass) and Mike Joyce (drums).

The Smiths are (l-r) Roarke, Morrisey, Marr and Joyce.

In January 2019, when I wrote about their self-titled debut record (#473 on The 500) I began my post with the words: "I hate The Smiths."  By May, 2021, when my pal Steve Monaghan was a guest blogger for album #369, Louder Than Bombs, I was starting to soften my stance. By the time I got to #296, Meat Is Murder, in October, 2022, I had been won over by the sound of the backing band, particularly the guitar work of Marr. However, the vocals from Morrissey just didn’t land for me.

Morrissey (2005)

This week, that changed. I was missing out on a critical piece of information that has been staring me in the face the whole time. Not only is Morrissey well read -- a trait I had recognized in his earlier lyrics -- he is also funny. In fact, the more I dug into the lyrics of the album's title track, The Queen Is Dead, and the nine songs that follow it, the more I recognized a kindred spirit. Morrissey seems to be a bit of an absurdist and nihilist who, despite the fame and wealth he had achieved, recognizes the cosmic insignificance of it all.

A quote from the animated series Rick and Morty, which
also revels in the absurd comedy of nihilism.

Looking back, I should have been a Smith's fan in my teens. Morrissey's clever wit would have fit in better with my juvenile temperament and childish grasp on history and philosophy. As I near 60, I still grapple with the same existential issues. However, I have learned to shut my mouth more often -- recognizing that I don't really have the corner on any truths when it comes to complex issues like faith, the monarchy or colonialism. I simply look to learn more.

As I write, I have a commitment to accompany my 84-year-old mom to the Anglican cathedral tonight. The new rector, Kevin George, is to be installed as Dean of Huron and my mother is excited I am sharing this spiritual event with her. I am delighted to attend – it's a small bit of penance for the know-it-all teenage prat who lived under her roof in the '80s. We survived my existential crisis and all. At least I didn't bring a record titled The Queen Is Dead into her house.

The 500 - #296 - Meat Is Murder - The Smiths

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

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Album: #296

Album Title: Meat Is Murder

Artist: The Smiths

Genre: Alternative Rock, Indie Rock, Post-Punk

Recorded: Amazon and Ridge Farm Studios, Liverpool and Surrey, UK

Released: February, 1985

My age at release: 19

How familiar was I with it before this week: Not at all

Is it on the 2020 list? No

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist:  The Headmaster Ritual

It was a cold and blustery day one February when I walked into a record shop in downtown London with a specific agenda: to purchase No Jacket Required by Phil Collins. The album, the third solo release by the British musician, would become his biggest, with four singles receiving massive airplay on radio and music television. At the time, back in 1985, I had no idea Phil's record was going to become a commercial juggernaut. He was a member of Genesis, one of my favourite bands, and I was excited to hear his newest material and continue building my collection of albums and solo projects by members of this talented group.

As I entered the shop, I paused by the rack displaying the newest releases. It was there that I first saw the album cover for Meat Is Murder, the second studio release by the Manchester quartet who have four records on The 500. In June, 2019 I wrote a critical account of the group’s debut release. Offsetting my caustic comments, my pal Steve Monaghan praised their compilation record, Louder Than Bombs, in a 2021 guest blog appearance.

Louder Than Bombs (left) and The Smiths' debut recor (right)

As I shook off the cold (and likely stomped slush from my boots), I was struck by the album cover, which featured four identical black and white pictures of a Vietnam-era soldier with the words "Meat Is Murder" (the album's title) crudely printed on his combat helmet.

I've since learned that the picture is of marine corporal Michael Wynn and the text on his helmet was digitally altered for The Smiths’ album cover. The original photograph was from Emile de Antoino's 1968 documentary In The Year Of The Pig. Previously, Wynn's helmet read "Make War Not Love".

The original picture and slogan, with
jacket text added for the film documentary.

In contemporary North America, becoming vegetarian for ethical reasons is a fairly common phenomenon. However, in 1985, those who eschewed animal-based protein in their diets were a quiet minority and people who espoused animal rights were a subset. Consequently, the title, Meat Is Murder, grabbed my attention. I can remember the thoughts that ran through my head when I first read that provocative statement:

"Meat is Murder?"

"Wow! That's quite a title!"

"Meat is Murder?"

"Well, I guess it is, if you think about it."

"But, we have to eat meat to survive?"
"I suppose we could be vegetarians?"

"But, we need protein...we have canine teeth after all."

"hmm...anyway"

"Where's that Phil Collins record I was looking for?"

Despite that moment of arrested attention upon seeing the album cover, I did not become a vegetarian or a Smiths fan that afternoon. I gathered  my Phil Collins record and went on with my day.

The Smiths in 1985(l-r) Andy Rourke, (Steven) Morrissey,
Johnny Marr & Mike Joyce

Now, 37 years later, I am starting to come around to the notion of going meatless. My wife and I have reduced our meat consumption for ethical and environmental reasons. We stopped buying pork a few years ago and we are fortunate to be able to afford to purchase much of our meat from ethical sources – farms with chickens or cows raised on quality food, with room to move and socialize. At least the animals have good lives before a sudden, very bad (and relatively pain free) moment.

At home on the range

I am also coming around to The Smiths’ music. Meat Is Murder is my favourite of the three records by the band that I have heard. I particularly liked the opening track, too. The Headmaster Ritual is a scathing critique of the Manchester school system in the 1970s and its reliance on corporal punishment as discipline.

Packaging for a single release of The Headmaster Ritual

The caustic lyrics are disquieting, depicting educators of the time as callous, violent and cruel. The lyrics further suggest some of the teachers were jealous of the youth under their charge, with a subtext suggesting sexual overtones.

I am an educator who has never raised his hand (and rarely his voice) to reprimand a student. However, I was a child of the 70s and attended both the Canadian (Ontario) and the Greater Manchester school systems. I can remember friends who returned from “the office” red-faced and tear-streaked after receiving the strap. There was also one particularly unpleasant principal who used to poke me hard in the chest when he wanted an explanations for some minor indiscretion in which I had been involved.

British schoolboy receiving "the strap"

Those incidents aside, it is the 45-second instrumental jam that opens The Headmaster Ritual that really seized my attention. It is a dynamic and engaging introduction to the record. Guitarist Johnny Marr revealed in interviews that the song was three years in the making. He had his guitar tuned to open E, which means the E chord will sound if the strings are strummed without any fingers on the fretboard.

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Marr also disclosed he was inspired by George Harrison's playing on The Beatles' song Daytripper, and that it is supposed to sound like something folk artist Joni Mitchell might have played "if she was a fan of (hard rock band) MC5".

Marr in a YouTube instructional video on how to play 
The Headmaster Ritual.

I'll now admit, much to my friend and guest blogger Steve's delight, that I'm becoming a fan of The Smiths. We even had a humourous exchange about it through text messages this week.

A chunk of our text exchange. I have also
rethought my "so so lyrics" comment.

Of all the members of the band, I think I am more a Johnny Marr fan. His live version of The Headmaster Ritual on YouTube is superb. Sample here. This summer he performed in Toronto in support of The Killers, a contemporary band who cite The Smiths as an influence. My pocketbook compelled me to reconsider attending. Post-pandemic hotel prices are outrageous and the 200 km drive, fighting traffic, to get back to London is a depressing prospect at the end of a good night of entertainment.

 

The 500 - #369 - Louder Than Bombs - The Smiths

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by Los Angeles-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

The 500 - #473 - The Smiths - The Smiths

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

My plan (amended). 

• 1 or 2 records per week & at least 2 complete listens.
• A quick blog post for each, highlighting the important details and a quick background story.
• No rating scale - just an effort to expand my appreciation.

Album # 473

Album Title: The Smiths
Artist: The Smiths
Released: February, 1984
My age at release: 18
How familiar am I with it: Very Little
Song I am putting on my Spotify Mix: This Charming Man
Great Lyric:
As long as the hand that rocks the cradle is mine
Ceiling shadows shimmy by
And when the wardrobe towers like a beast of prey
There's sadness in your beautiful eyes
Oh, your untouched, unsoiled, wondrous eyes
My life down I shall lie 
(The Hand that Rocks the Cradle)

"I hate The Smiths" ... I have said those words on more than one occasion, particularly between1984 and 1990.

That's odd for me to admit. I regularly tell my student that "hate is a word we reserve for truly awful things - like war, famine and racism".

But, it was a different time then and, real or imagined, I was on the opposite side of a divide between the people who liked bands like The Smiths ... and...people who liked...good music ;-). 

This record came out when I was in high school. My clique were, for the most part, into classic rock (Led Zeppelin, The Who) and heavy metal (Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath) with a few of us dabbling in progressive rock (Rush, Genesis), new wave (The Police) experimental rock (Pink Floyd, Frank Zappa) & folk rock (Neil Young, Crosby, Stills & Nash).

As with most high school cliques - we rolled with an "Us & Them Attitude". It was a reality captured powerfully in both the film The Breakfast Club and the brilliant, but short-lived, series Freaks & Geeks. I still identify strongly with the latter because it nearly perfectly captures my entire high school experience...from my passion for Dungeons & Dragons to my singular obsession with the band Rush. 

There is an old yearbook picture that I wish I could find. It is from about 1982 and features me in my denim jacket, covered in Rush patches & pins. I am standing with the other members of the high school Dungeons & Dragons Club. It is the geeky me on the precipice of freakdom (skipping school, partying & experimenting...on all fronts). As one friend put it, "Grade 12 was the best three years of my life!" This picture might just be our friend Terry, the first of us to turn 19.

Being part of a clique that accepts you for who you are (or at least who you were trying to be at the time) is transcendent. It is probably the most important thing on every high school student's mind - other than the overwhelming desire to connect with a romantic partner. The feeling of belonging outside the family unit is at its zenith during the teenage years. Attaining it is sometimes challenging and often fleeting, or at the minimum, transient. Looking back, it is sometimes difficult to remember how powerfully important it was. As Guy Garvey of Elbow eloquently puts it, in the song Lippy Kids

Lippy kids on the corner again, settling like crows
Though I never perfected that simian stroll
The cigarette senate was everything then.

The cost of membership to the "cigarette senate" was loyalty. Collectively, we had somehow decided that navel-gazing, post-punk, misery-pop was an anathema. Posers, Preps and Popular kids liked it - so it was not for us. We painted with a wide brush and many acts I enjoy today were on our hit list - Depeche Mode, The Cure, Joy Division, Echo & the Bunnymen, Yaz...and without a doubt, The Smiths. 

My friend Steve, whom I mentioned in my Husker Du post, used to call it "I don't know why music". However, just typing those words does not nearly capture the cleverness and depth of the derogation. 

He was dating a girl who listened to bands like The Smiths. When he would borrow her car, the cassette in the player would always be an easy target for our scorn. He would turn it on and, in a profoundly melancholy, comical faux-British accent begin to sing "and I don't know why" at perfect intervals. It always seemed to fit and never failed to make me laugh.

So, The Smiths. We meet again.

While preparing this post, I spoke with a friend who was is a fan. He informs me that I am failing to appreciating this band. He wants to listen to it with me...so, I'll report back when that happens.

At this point - the guitar playing is growing on me...I won't say hate - but I really don't enjoy Morrissey - particularly when he uses that bizarrely comical yet still gloomily falsetto voice to sing lyrics that are sometimes morose, sometimes narcissistic and regularly disturbing.

I am open to feedback - Comment below

Stay tuned for Part Two