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The Smiths
have well and truly arrived, folks. With 'What Difference Does It Make'
nestling comfortably in the upper echelons of the charts, we now have
conclusive proof that The Smiths are not one hit wonders nor pretenders
to the latest guitar band in town crown. They are arrogant, infuriating,
blindly confident and they make records bordering on brilliance.
Strike Towers has been reverberating with Morrissey's primitive crooning
and Johnny Marr's precise guitar workings since 'Hand In Glove' appeared
last summer. The rest of you have taken a little longer to hear the
message, but now you too have been swept away by these charming men.
Morrissey is glad that we're all finally caught up with The Smiths.
He knew we would, that it was all a matter of time and he's enjoying
our company.
"For me, it's actually quite stunning to meet people who want to
talk to me," he says over a cup of tea in his new London flat. "Of
course, it's a terribly natural situation and it's really an endless
pleasure."
Success has changed Morrissey's life considerably. He can now eat and
dress well, but he has also had to leave his beloved Manchester, including
the other Smiths, behind. Living in London is a necessity in Morrissey's
eyes. There are people he needs to 'keep an eye on' if The Smiths are
to tread the path he has laid down in his mind.
The 'biz' has little time for outspoken upstarts. After all, a buck
is a buck and as an example of this, Morrissey expresses The Smiths'
disgust at the 'New York Mix' of 'This Charming Man' which meant that
no less than three versions of the song were on sale.
"I'm still very upset about that," he says firmly. "It was
entirely against our principles, the whole thing, it didn't seem to
belong with us. There was even a question of a fourth version which
would have bordered on pantomime. It was called the Acton version, which
isn't even funny."
 With
the other Smiths still in Manchester, isn't there a danger that their
ideas and aims may begin to depart from Morrissey's own? Is it possible
to plot the career of a new band when the singer lives two hundred miles
away from his fellows?
"Well, we're in daily contact," Morrissey assures me. "But
I don't feel I have to gaze at their profiles or anything. They do get
a bit jealous sometimes, and I won't deny that they're not ecstatic
when yet another interview with me appears."
Apart from the music press clambering over each other to get to Morrissey's
door, The Smiths had built up a large live following long before 'This
Charming Man' hit the charts. This has meant that Morrissey can practise
at his great ambition -- to be a sex symbol. How's it going, I ask?
"I don't think I am a sex symbol actually, which is a great worry
when one's picture appears in the music press," he laughs. "People
generally bring me their problems as opposed to wanting to molest me,
which of course is terribly distressing. People tend to see me as someone
with a great deal of answers rather than as a sex symbol, so I'll have
to work on that one a bit longer."
Morrissey as an agony uncle! The mind boggles.
"I know," he laughs, "It's very strange but I seem to be a
parental figure which is completely distressing when one is twenty four
years old and one is approached by people who are twenty six. It's quite
amusing really, but I don't want to give any more advice on spots."
The Smiths set themselves apart from their contemporaries from the start,
refusing a support slot with The Police because they were 'more important
than The Police will ever be', and generally slagging off anything that
made a noise. Several TV appearances later, with two hit singles and
more interviews under his belt than Len Fairclough, I ask Morrissey
if The Smiths can still be different, subversive to the pop machine.
"I think something still separates us from the rest of the clatter,"
he sighs. "Where words are concerned, I try to use lines that
have not been used in the history of popular music before, and for that
reason alone it should separate us. I think our audience recognise that
we are different. I'm convinced people know exactly what I'm talking
about, they do think we are special and I wouldn't say that if I didn't
think it was true."
 More
arrogance from the man Morrissey? Perhaps. He's well aware of his reputation
for lacking in modesty, but doesn't intend to change his ways.
"It's not really arrogance," he pleads, "If you're not dramatically
shy in this business, you're an overbearing bore. It's all quite confusing.
I feel that if you have something the world could benefit from, then
you should put it in the front window with a red light above it."
He's quite right, of course. His stance comes simply from having an
incredible confidence in The Smiths. Why beat about the bush when you
know you are creating 'quite hysterically profound music' and re-writing
the rock vocabulary?
Morrissey is well aware that The Smiths have had more than their fair
share of media hysteria, and that it won't last forever. You can almost
feel the backlash coming, perhaps with the imminent release of The Smiths'
debut album, called 'The Smiths'. What else?
However, Morrissey is convinced that the band has the strength of character
to survive the attack.
Morrissey tells me how he has stopped worrying about the future of The
Smiths, and his willingness to 'swim in the praise' he currently enjoys.
He is not complacent.
"When people see us as simply grinding out sausages as it were, we'll
have the sense to take a swift exit. I don't want to bore people, so
if I thought The Smiths were an absolute hindrance to the human race
then we'd break up."
Morrissey won't crack up when his beloved Smiths have run their course.
He has literary ambitions, including a screen play.
"There's a lot I want to do," he tells me. "It doesn't all
end with my thrusting a gladioli under Richard Skinner's nose. There's
a lot I want to achieve, most of which is illegal."
Morrissey is a witty young man, possibly due to his passion for Oscar
Wilde, a man who would surely have formed The Smiths himself had he
been born in the nineteen sixties. Most of Morrissey's claims and dreams
are relayed with his tongue firmly in his cheek. You can't take the
man at face value, but you can listen to The Smiths' music, proof enough
of their exceptional talents.
I for one can't wait to hear the album, though I'll be among the first
to complain if The Smiths let us down. Morrissey doesn't see much chance
of that, as he explains.
"I really do expect the highest critical praise for the album,"
he says calmly. "I think it's a complete signal post in the history
of popular music."
We shall see, my friends, we shall see.
This
article was originally published in the February 11, 1984 issue of
Record Mirror.
Reprinted without permission for personal use only.
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