There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

(Taken from an existing project, Let Your Headphones Bleed is changing soon xx)

The Smiths disbanded in 1987, still yet to release their final studio album Strangeways Here We Come. Now 28 years later, countless teens across Britain still feel that Morrissey and co. are de rigueur. So how did The Smiths get this staying power? Is it due to their music, the razor sharp wit of Stephen Morrissey or is it the miserable reality that liking the Manchester sad boys is the key to being the trendiest hipster in your shitty estate?

Stereotypes are an ugly thing, they mould public opinion and extrapolate tiny insignificancies until we cannot separate fact from reality. The British teenager has it’s fair share of demonised stereotypes that it must live upto, now possibly influenced by social media sites such as Tumblr and Instagram where it is even easier to paint a hyperbolised image of oneself. Arguably one version of a typical Brit teen is the ‘walking out of a Supreme lookbook’. The type of fella who wears dresses masquerading as t-shirts and a snapback that cost a week’s wages. Despite their good intentions, they probably come across as tossers and think that Niggas In Paris is a masterpiece.

The next stereotype is what people call ‘bloody hipsters’. Just like the Supreme kids, image is everything. Whether it is the best bargain at the charity shop or disliking everyone that went to your senior school. The poster boy for this swathe of youth? Steven Patrick Morrissey. Somehow, The Smiths now stand for everything that it means to be indie or hipster. To be really cool on Instagram and Tumblr, it is necessary for you to adore Moz and Marr more than NME ever have. Increased by the disgusting amount of merchandise available, the popularity of The Smiths could just be due to teenage loners trying to appear more teenage and loner than their contempories.

Despite this cynicism, the lasting power of the band may be down to the superb body of work produced. In their hey day, Moz and Marr were the most prolific writing pair of their time- up their with the greats of McCartney//Lennon, Mick//Keith, Barlow//Orange. The soaring guitars and encapsulating melodies conjured by Marr laced with the sombre and morose lyrics by Morrissey have created some of the most beautiful indie songs ever. The scornful vigour of Bigmouth Strikes Again, the infinite misery of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now and the sexual swagger of How Soon Is Now have been immortalised in popular culture. Arguably, The Queen Is Dead is the best album ever. It’s political wit and cohesive attitude has never been so relevant. If you wonder why people still love The Smiths, pop on There Is A Light That Never Goes Out on a boozy evening and see all kinds of blokes singing their heart outs to their significant others. The Smiths are as hardwired into our psyche as belting out Wonderwall in a town centre at 11:30.

Although The Smiths died in 1987, the one creature who survived like a cockroach in a nuclear blast is good ol’ Moz. It is difficult to describe Morrissey, he is a man who only ever needed a surname- he is that iconic. The asexual, ostentatious, West Ham supporter has more soundbites dedicated to him than both Gallaghers. In my opinion, Moz has managed to convert a generation to vegetarianism and made the cat forever cool. Not only has Morrissey been consistently morose and dry, he has also managed to write a back catalog of solo material that is impeccable. Love or loathe the musician, it is clear that the love of The Smiths is synonymous with a fascination of Steven Patrick Morrissey.