isnt the world miserable enough right now without adding the smiths ;)
Heaven knows it is.
Here's the thing. Early eighties, 1983 or so, and I was just constantly thinking to myself, I
hate this decade. An unreconstructed hippy washed up on the beach of an alien continent. I truly
hate it! I hate its look, I hate its clothes, I hate its ideologies, I hate its music. What is there to fucking listen to, other than Boy George and Duran Duran?? (I will admit, rather shamefacedly, that I quite like listening to some of their stuff now… age will do that to you). The kids in the UK seemed to be voting Thatcher. They liked her, they liked what she was saying. Reagan doing his B movie actor sabre-rattling across the water.
Was living in Japan at the time. Was riffling through records in a store, vinyls were still around and going quite strong. I came across this cover, a kid who looked about 15 wearing a helmet and with a radio set on his back. Obviously a shot from Vietnam. I thought, “This looks intriguing… I like the name, too. Studiedly unshowy.” Bought it on a whim, took it home, put the needle down. Shit!!! “The Headmaster Ritual”. Bang, straight in, no messing. Marr's Rickenbacker. And words that — finally — spoke to me.
I can hardly convey the sense of relief to you. Not just joy, but relief. Up till then, I'd felt a bit like Will Smith in
I am legend. Well, yes… there were small groups of people out there who were not the undead.
Wouldn't go to see them now. Some memories should not be spoilt.