It was only a fortnight ago that I made the often overlooked comparison between the Pixies and the Smiths; both champions of the power of pop music and both kings of the Oscar Wilde approach to irony and wit.
Though a decade away from the origins of punk, both bands despised the establishment just as much as Rotten and co did, though choosing to camouflage their attack in a pretty dandy style rather than a Ramones buzzsaw substance.
I’m convinced the camouflage is the reason why grown men cry at Smiths and Pixies gigs, but not at Pistols gigs.
With the Smiths, it was Marr’s melancholic pop which acted as the Trojan horse allowing Morrisey’s lyrics to shock us into remembering that life isn’t just about figuring out who owes us a living, it’s about remembering the beliefs we hold so tightly but too often forget.
Crack Magazine edit
Though a decade away from the origins of punk, the Smiths despised the establishment just as much as Rotten and co did. Camouflaged behind pretty guitar work, Morrisey’s lyrics could be so cutting that they would shock us into remembering that life isn’t just about figuring out who owes us a living. In return for both the sound and the thought provoking content, it’s fair to say that Smith’s fans will always connect to the band at a much deeper level than most bands do with their fans; the Smiths were a lifestyle and a way of living.
Whether that connection is a help or a hindrance for cover band the Smyths is for them to decide, but for those of us who attended the gig we got what we wanted. We got to hear the music. We got to hear the words. We got a connection.