In tribute to bassist Andy Rourke, who died last week, here’s an early review of the Smiths. Google tells me the gig was on 22nd October 1983.
As you can tell, I didn’t know much about them – I think there had been one or two singles and a Peel session. But it was obvious they were going to be big.
And I’m glad that I noticed how good the rhythm section were.
The Smiths
Liverpool Polytechnic
Melody Maker, November 5, 1983
WHAT ARE you to think when the group come on stage and start throwing flowers into the audience? On this occasion, a practical response seems best: most people simply throw them back.
It doesn't stop there, though. They're not just throwing flowers, they're wearing beads as well. Are these new underground raves going to prove yet another attempt at the psychedelic revival? Or perhaps another ride on the pastoral bandwagon? Whatever, they're sure to be extremely sensitive types…
But listen! That drumming, that bass: together they walk firmly and jauntily over such foolish assumptions. There's that rockabilly flavoured backbeat re-popularised by The Fall, and it's an undeniably solid basis for whatever flights of fancy may decide to take place over the top. The beat adapts beautifully to the delicious anticipation of restrained hysteria, or to a sense of purpose that won't allow too much nonsense.
But look again! What are you to think? The plain-name ruse is surely misleading: the group's appearance is at odds with that already. Identification by haircut can sometimes be useful: let's try it here. The guitarist has the kind of neat mop that was called "long" in 1966 (with shirt to match); the singer has a kind of quiff; the bassist a Postcardish crop; and I can't see the drummer for the crowds. None of this is more significant than the rest.
The music's not acidy at all, anyway: it's far too direct, and the elements are really too diverse for any particular categorisation. Most of them, at least, are quite pleasing. The guitar is at times sweet or cutting, like the words. The voice is distinctive but has an unfortunate, familiar tendency to the introspective depth that has dampened the fire of so many lively musical combinations. In this case, though, it comes from a star.
If he isn't yet - and the front row would probably disagree with that - he will be soon. From his first appearance, whirling his bunch of flowers around his head, whirling his limbs around his body, who but a star would dare to be called an. idiot?
"Could have been a poet, could have been a fool." The line stands out from one of the songs. This man could be both. How seriously do you take your groups these days? Seriously enough to dance to them? You must here. Seriously enough to laugh with them, and to wonder at them? The songs are funny too, even if they don't always make sense.
And all the time the beat goes on, and that at least makes perfect sense. The bodies in the audience, anyway, ecstatically understand.
The Smiths' music has that combination of directness and mystery that belongs with the best rock'n'roll. What are you to think? I shouldn't worry about trying.
A rather wonderful description of The Smiths and their music. You clearly saw what took many of us somewhat longer to see. Thanks for posting this.
A great, nostalgic piece Penny. It took me right back to the excitement of my first encounter with a daffodil wielding Morrissey, such a shame he turned into such a reactionary old git!