The Smiths song Johnny Marr thought nobody could match
When The Smiths drove onto the UK scene in the mid-1980s, they filled a void of music that was yet untouched. The heavily distorted power riffs of the 1970s made way for synthesisers and drum machines in the ’80s, leaving an indie music wasteland behind. Music fans were searching for a new artist to revere and help them define the times they lived in. Enter The Smiths.
Upon the release of their self-titled debut album in 1984, a young Johnny Marr had seemingly reinvented what guitar playing meant in a perceived rock band. Speaking to The Roots about the origin of his playing style, Marr said: “After punk, everyone was looking for their own thing”.
He continued, “Quite often, young people define themselves by what they’re not”.
Marr quickly realised that distortion and lengthy blues riffs were becoming antiquated, leaving clean, melody-driven guitar playing as his clearest option. At that point, he was a relatively untried commercial entity in the rock world. “Back then as a guitar player, I was left with a very small set of options,” he said. “So it made me play in a very hyperactive way,” the guitarist added when defining his signature style.
What followed was a debut album littered with new-sounding hits like ‘This Charming Man’ (Marr’s most famous riff to date) and ‘Hand In Glove’ which introduced the world to the celestial combination of Marr’s guitar and Morrissey’s voice.
The Smiths introduced such a new and unique sound to the world during that decade, with a catalogue of songs that could be described as innovative. So it provokes a particular interest when Marr says, “Only we could play it and only Morrissey could sing it” about one song.
A relatively overlooked track on their 1987 album Strangeways, Here We Come ‘Unhappy Birthday’ is a quintessential Smiths track vacuum packed in a cacophony of interesting influences and tempos.
In relation to the song’s composition, Marr said, “The music, what’s going on between Andy’s bass and my guitar, is one of the things I still hold up as being unique and no one else has ever done quite done”.
His almost rock-a-billy guitar playing style is strikingly alien on a song played within this band but works when listened to as the sum of its whole. Bass player Andy Rourke grounds the otherwise innovative pursuit of sound by Marr and Morrissey alike, punctuating the riffs and directing the tempo, which, throughout the song, is everchanging.
While Marr notes that the vocal performance on this track is made for one person only (Morrissey), it’s hard to overlook the lyrical idiosyncrasy that also exists within it.
The words are vintage Morrissey. Sinking deep into the depths of human consciousness, Morrissey muses on a lost lover in the darkest of fashion: “Cause you’re evil / And you lie / And if you should die / I may feel slightly sad / But I won’t cry”.
It’s a truly paradoxical song, uniquely Smith in its composition, performance and lyrical delivery. The gloomy lyrics sit atop an otherwise stellar melody; the chorus incites cheers, although its underhanded lyrics and the entire song aims to subvert traditional spirited traditions and paint them with the realism of the human condition.
If you were to wish someone a happy birthday with a single Smiths record wrapped up in a bow, then this would undoubtedly be the quintessential.
