Three weeks at number one from 21st November 1987
“I Started Something” could be the exception, though – it was the first single to be released after the group’s dissolution was announced to the press, and is a strange outlier rather than a typical finale, pricking up my ears as a teenage boy for its peculiarly brassy arrangement. The way the record swings and rocks is reminiscent of the soundtrack to a strip-tease – have a go at imaging somewhere flinging their underwear into the air from the tips of their fingers to this if you want (though I’m not forcing you to). There’s a strange come-hither arrangement going on here, the sort of thing Suede revelled in many years later but felt atypical of The Smiths output.
On top of the glam swing, Morrissey doesn’t partake in innuendo, but instead delivers some regretful, hesitant and intriguing lyrics, appearing to confront the idea of getting in too deep with an unsuitable partner. Gone are the slogans and the forthrightness, and his lines are caked in doubt – “I forced you to a zone/ and you were clearly never meant to go” he states, “I started something and now I’m not too sure”.
Thematically, the song this reminds me of most is Pulp’s “Underwear”, but whereas that’s explicit and very directly addresses a dumbstruck victim who could walk away if s/he wanted to, “Something” is all chewed fingers and floor-pacing, hair nervously but precisely parted. Given how frequently relationships bend this way, with one party realising they’re never truly going to love the other, it’s surprising it’s such an unaddressed area in songs. How often do humans actually, properly fall in love? A handful of times in our lives, maximum? How often is that mutually felt, and how much mess and ill-feeling can any imbalance create, despite our best intentions? And when you’re with the unsuitable partner in a bedroom, pondering this over, and they say “the three words” you least want to hear at that moment, how do you deal with it?
There isn’t a script you can follow, and advice on this area is thin on the ground. Letting a lovestruck person down gently is an artform some Femme Fatales and Lotharios may get good at over time, but most men and women seem to stumble and stutter around, pouring drinks with unsteady hands or going to hide in the bathroom. Sometimes that’s enough for less deluded human beings to get the message, but people in love tend not to be firing on logical cylinders; hope outweighs hard experience. Unwanted lovers tend to ask “Are you ill? Shall I get you something?” rather than “Are you hiding from me? Shall we talk?” while knocking on the toilet door.
The conflict between the lyrics and the melody creates the brilliant tension in this single, and while I seldom see it praised much, it’s one of my favourite Smiths records. Morrissey isn’t a smart-arse here – he’s racked with guilt instead (but is any of this his fault really?) He’s Charlie Brown muttering “typical me” while rolling his eyes, as the band circle and swing and encourage him to kiss Peppermint Patty. If recent Smiths singles we've covered have seemed a bit too pleased with themselves, featuring Morrissey revelling in his certainties, this has a vulnerability which is both nerve-jangling and relatable.
It shouldn't have been a single at all, of course. In most other territories "Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before" (with a near-identical promo video) came out instead, but its planned release coincided with the Hungerford massacre and the BBC got cold feet over the lines about a shy bald Buddhist reflecting and planning a mass murder. Morrissey was enraged by this display of corporate sensitivity; I'll leave it to you to judge whether the Beeb were over-reacting or not (largely because I can't make up my mind).
It’s also (spoiler alert) the last official Smiths single to reach the top of the NME Indie Chart, so we must leave them behind here, as we would also have done had history taken a different fork; the group had a contract pending with EMI at this point and were about to give Rough Trade the heave-ho. Morrissey and Marr’s public falling out felt as if it wouldn’t necessarily be the end of the band initially, with other guitarists being tried out for his position. In the end, though, it seems common sense set in and Morrissey set off to Hayes to sign with EMI by himself.
I feel as if I’ve spent more time in the last year-and-a-half thinking about The Smiths and their singles than I've managed at any point in the last 40 years. Thoroughly pontificating around their work and decoding it in the past often felt pointless, since so many had done it before, and I’d fallen into the trap of being a lazy consumer. Actually being forced to listen afresh to keep this blog rolling, though, I’ve emerged with renewed respect for the group, and particularly the way Marr, Rourke and Joyce gelled fantastically as a powerful unit, with never a beat, melodic run or bassline inappropriately or unsympathetically placed. They have also had moments where they’ve been the most Motown driven alternative rock group since The Jam, all swing and urgency. Without the group he had behind him, it feels unlikely Morrissey would ever have been more than a minor cult figure.
As for Morrissey himself – political misgivings aside (because I have plenty of those) he wrote some of the sharpest lyrics of the eighties and also some of the most attention-seeking sloganeering and bluster, almost as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to be Leonard Cohen or Malcolm McLaren, and eventually decided to switch between both (sometimes in the same song). Of course, it’s not easy to think of snappy, contentious, era defining slogans for pop songs – why not have a go yourself for the next half hour and report back with your findings? – but Morrissey was usually at his best when he was being contemplative and literate rather than rabble rousing. The finest lyricist of his generation? It really depends on what you need and what you’re looking for. He style was certainly distinct; as I’ve discovered, too much time spent thinking about him can eventually mean accidentally beginning to write like him.
Ending here - with a commercially underperforming single just on the cusp of seriously shifting sands both within the independent sector and outside - feels strangely apt. The Smiths black and white sleeves and maudlin outlook felt ill matched to the mood of the times as things started to turn dayglo, even in the band's home city. Morrissey and Marr weren’t the only ones moving on.
The Smiths NME Indie number ones in full
41. w/e 19th November (7 weeks) - This Charming Man
44. w/e 28th January 1984 (9 weeks) - What Difference Does It Make?
53. w/e 8th September 1984 (4 weeks) - William, It Was Really Nothing
58. w/e 2nd March 1985 (2 weeks) - How Soon Is Now
59. w/e 6th April 1985 (2 weeks) - Shakespeare's Sister
68. w/e 12th October 1985 (3 weeks) - The Boy With The Thorn In His Side
79. 7th June 1986 (1 week) - Bigmouth Strikes Again
84. 9th August 1986 (4 weeks) - Panic
89. 8th November 1986 (3 weeks) - Ask
92. 14th February 1987 (4 weeks) - Shoplifters Of The World Unite
97. 25th April 1987 (4 weeks) - Sheila Take A Bow
103. 29th August 1987 (2 weeks) - Girlfriend In A Coma
New Entries Elsewhere In The Charts
Week One
19. Mirage - Jack Mix IV (Debut)
Peak position: 19
The Stars on 45 medley project never really faded away – it just waited for its moment to rise up again. Mirage had their origins in the “act” Enigma, created by Shakatak producer Nigel Wright to compete with Starsound in the early eighties, and various disco medleys emerged under that guise until finally a change of name was made towards the end of the eighties, just in time for the House revolution.
In Wright’s defence, “Jack Mix IV” is a bit more artful than Stars On 45, mixing the competing records together in a very fluid groove rather than just artlessly slapping one segment after the other down on top of a marching rhythm. In the end, though, it’s still just a plucky cash-in rather than a serious piece of work; an off-the-peg soundtrack to a youth club disco, designed to be played by a DJ not skilled enough to impress the kids with his own mixing. This may be a somewhat forgotten record now, but the individual components of “Jack Mix IV” are all fondly remembered, and everybody almost certainly knew that would be the most likely outcome at the time, even Nigel Wright.
27. The Passmore Sisters - A Safe Place To Hide (Sharp)
Peak position: 14
The Passmore Sisters final single (prior to their 21st Century reformation) is a delicate, vulnerable exit from the music business, with the group informing us in the chorus that they need “a safe house, a safe place to hide”. Towards the end it begins to almost morph into an anthem, the band clapping and chanting the refrain, but it can never quite summon the strength. A sweet little end from a band who, under the right circumstances, could have achieved more.
Peak position: 14
The Passmore Sisters final single (prior to their 21st Century reformation) is a delicate, vulnerable exit from the music business, with the group informing us in the chorus that they need “a safe house, a safe place to hide”. Towards the end it begins to almost morph into an anthem, the band clapping and chanting the refrain, but it can never quite summon the strength. A sweet little end from a band who, under the right circumstances, could have achieved more.
Week Two
12. The Wolfhounds - Me (Idea)
Peak position: 12
A record I heard more than once at the time, which is surprising given how rarely I ducked into evening radio shows as a young teen. I also saw the slightly menacing sleeve, with the group peering behind the shaped window of the giant letters “M” and “E”, in record shops around the Southend area. It stood out, the band’s gaze following you around the store.
“Me” was never going to be an enormous hit despite all that, but it impressed me with its unfocussed vitriol and the way the group adopted indiepop tropes while managing to sound livid at the same time – seldom have groups jangled with guitar strings which sound so close to snapping. They would get even fiercer over time.
17. The Flatmates – You’re Gonna Cry (Subway)
Peak position: 4
The Flatmates, meanwhile, are surprisingly fragile on “You’re Gonna Cry”, still stuck in the standard indiepop cruise mode, leaning on sixties lovelorn beat melodies rather than fury. It’s sweet and simple, feeling as if it would be right at home on a compilation of sixties girl group obscurities.
24. The Justified Ancients Of Mu Mu - 1987 the Edits (KLF Communications)
Peak position: 24
A strange situation here indeed. The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu, aka The Jams, aka The KLF, found themselves in trouble due to their rather bold use of sampling on their debut LP “1987 What The Fuck Is Going On” (not least with Abba) and were forced to withdraw and destroy all copies. Drummond and Cauty travelled to Sweden with the half-baked idea of reasoning with Polar Music about their predicament, and instead ended up asking a blonde Stockholm prostitute to pose with a specially made gold disc for press photos. The disc was engraved with the message “Thank you to Abba for helping The Justified Ancients of Mu Mu sell zero copies of their album”, obviously.
As a result of all the brouhaha, “1987 The Edits” was a sample-free version of the album which was released with written instructions on how the consumer could recreate the original record for themselves. It was another ridiculous idea for many reasons, not least the fact that nobody but the most ardent KLF fan was ever going to buy this, plus all the other records "1987" sampled, then get busy with a mixing desk. If the Internet and mixing apps had existed as a mainstream force in those days, doubtless a few people would have had a go – but that was then, and this is now.
Suffice to say, I saw a copy of this for £3.99 in a second hand record store a couple of decades ago and still walked straight past it, despite being a huge KLF fan. I have since seen the asking price for this on Discogs and while I'm not too worried yet, I do wonder if my Giro could have stretched to a vinyl investment that week after all.
No YouTube videos of this anywhere these days (though one is incorrectly labelled as such) and seemingly no real interest in what "1987" sounds like with huge holes cut out of its fabric. Have a link to the LP instead.
25. Pablo Gad - Who Is The Terrorist? (Rhythm King)
Peak position: 25
26. Hotline - Hellhouse (Rhythm King)
Peak position: 26
Hotline return with another Rhythm King release which, once again, sits smoothly and likeably between House Music and eighties funk. A moody, magnificent groove and dark vocals dominate, and it’s surprisingly effective at causing my limbs to twitch as well as remaining interesting beyond the five minute mark. Horror House? There wasn’t really much of it about in 1987, and there hasn’t been since, but I could have happily entertained a few more singles like this one.
Week Three
6. Red Lorry Yellow Lorry - Open Up (Situation Two)
Peak position: 6
This is probably the closest The Lorries got to sounding like Fields Of The Nephilim, but unlike that group, this is claustrophobic and minimal, locked twanging away in a wardrobe in a derelict house rather than wandering around in the American desert looking for mutants to dictate to.
The normally somewhat goth-phobic NME liked it enough to offer it single of the week in their review pages, and the end result seems to have been a slightly more elevated chart position than the group usually experienced.
12. Wire - Peel Session (Strange Fruit)
Peak position: 12
13. My Bloody Valentine – Strawberry Wine EP (Lazy)
Peak position: 13
Arguably the first interesting My Bloody Valentine single, where we begin to see shifts in the group’s sound. Although “Strawberry Wine” is still unquestionably indiepop, the sound feels strange here - set on one constant droning mid-point, with the coo-ing backing vocals occasionally threatening to bury the lead vocals, it sounds faintly blurry, out of focus and claustrophobic. Something was already starting to happen, even if the details hadn't been fully fleshed out yet.
"Strawberry Wine" also sounds like a psychedelic folk song booted into the laps of an indie group, having a faintly otherworldly quality as a result. This is bit parts Indiepop, Shoegaze and early Incredible String Band at the same time. I don’t think it’s great, but it certainly hints at what was to come.
17. Tackhead featuring Gary Clail - Reality (On-U Sound)
Peak position: 4
Grinding, thumping, dubby excursion which features so many elements of different genres that it’s almost confusing, but it never quite lets the invasive samples blow it entirely off course, remaining sure and steady throughout. As with many records of this era, the sampling occasionally feels ham-fisted or forced, but Clail’s performance is sure-footed enough to ride the uneven waves created.
21. Clan Of Xymox - Blind Hearts (4AD)
Peak position: 9
24. Man 2 Man - At The Gym (Bolts)
Peak position: 24
For the full charts, please go to the UKMix Forums
Peak position: 9
24. Man 2 Man - At The Gym (Bolts)
Peak position: 24
For the full charts, please go to the UKMix Forums
Number One In The Official National Charts
T'Pau - "China In Your Hand" (Siren)
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