Back when I was in high school during the mid-late 1980s, I was vaguely aware of the Smiths. I knew they were the hip band du jour in England and in many quarters in America. However, I didn’t really listen to a lot of their stuff. Sometime around 1986 or so, I noticed random goth girls looking at me very intently. I wasn’t quite sure what this was about until one told me I looked like Morrissey of the Smiths. She showed me a picture and I did see a resemblance. Only knowing that people considered him hip, I thought this was very cool and started to explore the Smiths music in more detail. Not being the fastest human in the world, I thought this would be my entree into stud-dom … I’m going to pause for 60 seconds for all of you to finish convulsing in hysterics … OK, are we done, now? Let’s continue …
At the time, I didn’t realize that girls that were into Morrissey were not exactly the types that would be ready to request my services in the carnality. It didn’t help matters that I lettered in theater … Seriously, stop laughing, motherf–kers! … It’s only after I realized that Morrissey was not a role model for someone who wanted to be successful with girls that I sort-of started to come into my own.
I stopped listening to the Smiths and Morrissey for several years and have only started to re-explore their stuff. They’ll never be my favorite band, but there are some gems in their oeuvre. “Everyday Is Like Sunday,” from Morrissey’s debut solo album “Viva Hate,” is a particular favorite and I think is the greatest song he ever had any involvement with.
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