This time of year is all about listening to melancholic music by terrible people, or at least that’s what I do every fall. In revisiting some of my favorite mournful musicians, I was once again enthralled by the album “The Queen Is Dead” by The Smiths. I love The Smiths.
“The Queen Is Dead” was the third album of the band, released in 1986 to universal acclaim. It consists of 10 songs over the span of 37 minutes and 11 seconds. The album has come to encapsulate the band’s identity and, for a while, defined the genre of indie-rock. Even today, the worst man you know is probably blasting “Frankly, Mr. Shankly” with no sense of self-reflection.
The album opens with the song “The Queen Is Dead,” a six and a half minute long critique of the power structures in England. With a driving drum groove and a spattering of tambourine and synth, it is easy to get lost in the pure musicality of the song. However, if you take the time to look further into the lyrics of the song, you find a biting critique of the monarchy, poverty and religion. Lead singer Morrissey’s whining vocals, which might be grating in another style, fit perfectly within the mood of the song and encapsulate the desperation of the working class. “Frankly, Mr. Shankly” follows behind with a bouncing beat and an emphasis on the offbeat, creating an uneven march feeling. The song itself is a meta-critique of Morrissey’s own obsession with fame and attention, dealing with the corrupting force of fame and money.
The mood of the album quickly shifts with the next song, “I Know It’s Over.” The song is a melancholic ballad with a simple drum beat on two and four and an uncomplicated guitar rhythm supporting the vocals. In a few places, the music picks up, adding complex layered guitar and bass, which breaks, returning to the simple backing. The song’s message is not a hopeful one, contemplating loneliness and death, while still retaining some optimism in his reflections on the courage of kindness and love. The mood remains low going into the next song, “Never Had No One Ever.” With a more involved instrumental backing, the song has more energy than “I Know It’s Over,” while creating a mysterious, almost threatening, tone. The lyrics reflect on Morrissey’s feelings of isolation from being from an immigrant family and never fully feeling like he belonged in his hometown of Manchester.
The energy picks up in the following song, “Cemetry Gates.” With an optimistic guitar backing and upbeat tempo, the song sits in stark contrast to the rest of the album. The lyrics are a direct attack on those who plagiarize the work of people whom they consider more talented. The tempo remains high for the following song, “Bigmouth Strikes Again,” as a rolling drum beat drives the music forward. Where “Cemetry Gates” had almost a pop feeling to it, “Bigmouth Strikes Again” is a distinctly punk addition to this album. Presenting himself as a martyr figure, directly referencing the burning of Joan of Arc, Morrissey critiques the press and their treatment of those whom they deem worth critiquing.
Into the next song, the music remains up-tempo, but begins to become simpler once again. “The Boy with the Thorn in His Side” once again allows Morrissey to complain about people being mean to him, a message that seems to permeate the album, not without reason. This song is one of the more poetic of the album, with Morrissey lamenting a music industry that has failed to fully recognize the talent of the band. Moving into the next song, “Vicar in a Tutu,” we return to the off-beat centric backing track; this song is one of the oddest of the album. Centering on the concept of a cross-dressing Vicar, the song critiques gender roles and expectations.
As we near the conclusion of the album, the mood of the songs begins to fall back down to their pessimistic origins. “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” is a meditation on the fatalistic nature of love, as viewed by the band. With the famous lyrics, “And if a 10 tonne truck kills the both of us, to die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine.” The album ends with the wonderfully titled “Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others.” The song is simplistic, but intentionally so, pointing out the absurdity of caring about the shape of one’s body.
There is a reason this album has survived the test of time in a way even other albums by The Smiths haven’t. “The Queen Is Dead” explores themes that are universally understood through poetic lyrics and enthralling instrumentals. This album will be remaining on my autumn melancholy rotation for the foreseeable future.
