THE SMITHS The Queen is dead
Non me ne vogliano i numerosi fans, ma non ho mai considerato gli Smiths tra gli imprescindibili nella storia del Rock.
Sono stati una grande band da singoli, e certamente “This charming man” è tra i brani più significativi degli anni 80, nel trasportare il jingle-jangle sound dei sixties nel limaccioso contesto della loro decade. Hanno sicuramente segnato un’epoca – per altro più socialmente – e influenzato diverse band, (benché la qualità degli epigoni sia spesso stata scadente, specialmente dalle parti del brit-pop). Tuttavia, faccio fatica a trovare nel repertorio di Morrissey e soci un solo album dotato di quella compiutezza organica e di quella ricchezza espressiva tale da renderlo una pietra miliare. Un “Zen Arcade” , un “Murmur” o un “Daydream nation”, tanto per restare negli anni 80: qualcosa che incide il nome dei suoi autori nella leggenda.
Non credo che “The queen is dead” faccia eccezione, benché venga spesso citato quando qualcuno si diverte a stilare classifiche dei migliori album di tutti i tempi. Il primo singolo estratto è non a caso il migliore episodio tra i 10 presenti: “Bigmouth strikes again”, col suo immortale giro di chitarra, e con la Rickenbacker in odore di Byrds di Johnny Marr a condurre le danze. Non che manchino momenti piacevoli tra i solchi di “The queen is dead”: la title-track e “Vicar in a tutu” – non trascendentali nei loro echi kinksiani – sono almeno geniali affreschi dell’Inghilterra thatcheriana, e “Somegirls are bigger than others” è certamente tra le più ispirate composizioni di Marr, abilmente spalleggiato da un Morrissey insolitamente conciso ed efficace nel descrivere la cruda realtà della vita. Purtroppo si trovano anche diversi brani francamente inconcludenti, che costituiscono il ventre molle dell’opera. “Frankly Mr. Shankly” e “Cemetry gates” sono canzoncine pop innocue e irritanti, mentre “Never had no one ever , "I know it’s over” e “The boy with the thorn in his side” hanno seriosità pari alla loro staticità. In questi ultimi è il vecchio Moz a farla da padrone, con un lirismo manierato (pietra d’angolo dell’ insopportabile miserabilismo che ne costellerà la carriera solista), le sue soporifere storie di angoscia adolescenziale e certi vocalizzi irritanti. Di ben altra pasta è fatta “There is a light that never goes out” , in cui la magniloquenza morrisseyana riesce a tenere fede alla propria grandeur, forgiando un capolavoro epocale di teenage angst (chi ne ricorda la splendida citazione nel romanzo “Trainspotting” di Irvine Welsh ?), tra schianti di autobus e arrangiamenti sopraffini orchestrati da Marr.
Paradossalmente, il miglior album degli “Smiths” è forse proprio l’epitaffio “Strangeways here we come”. L’unico senza singoli memorabili, ma con una manciata di composizioni in grado di ampliare a ventaglio lo spettro stilistico della band. Non a caso, l’unica cosa su cui Morrissey e Marr si trovano ancora oggi d’accordo è nel considerare quello il punto più alto della parabola dei “Signori Rossi”. Niente di straordinario anche qui, ma l’avevamo detto. Band da singoli, a volte, si resta a vita.
Elenco tracce testi e video
01 The Queen Is Dead (06:24)
(Oh! Take me back to dear old Blighty,
Put me on the train for London Town,
Take me anywhere,
Drop me anywhere,
Liverpool, Leeds or Birmingham
'Cause I don't care,
I should like to see my...
I don't bless them)
(Farewell...)
to this land's cheerless marshes
Hemmed in like a boar between arches
Her very Lowness with her head in a sling
I'm truely sorry but it sounds like a wonderful thing
I say: "Charles, don't you ever crave
To appear on the front of the Daily Mail
Dressed in your Mother's bridal veil?"
And so I checked all the registered historical facts
And I was shocked into shame to discover
How I'm the 18th pale descendent
Of some old queen or other
Oh has the world changed or have I changed?
Oh has the world changed or have I changed?
As some 9-year old tough who peddles drugs
(I swear to God, I swear)
I never even knew what drugs were
And so I broke into the Palace
With a sponge and a rusty spanner
She said: "Eh, I know and you cannot sing!"
I said: "That's nothing, you should hear me play piano!"
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But when you're tied to your Mother's apron
No one talks about castration
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
Like love and law and poverty
There are the things that kill me
We can go for a walk where it's quiet and dry
And talk about precious things
But the rain that flattens my hair
These are the things that kill me
(All their life, they make love, and pierce through me)
Passed the Pub that saps your body
And the church who'll snatch your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
Passed the Pub that wrecks your body
And the church - all they want is your money
The Queen is dead, boys
And it's so lonely on a limb
(Life is very long when you're lonely)
02 Frankly, Mr. Shankly (02:19)
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
I want to leave, you will not miss me
I want to go down in musical history
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, I'm a sickening wreck
I've got the 21st Century breathing down my neck
I must move fast, you understand me
I want to go down in celluloid history, Mr. Shankly
Fame, Fame, fatal Fame
It can play hideous tricks on the brain
But still I'd rather be Famous
Than righteous or holy, any day
But sometimes I'd feel more fulfilled
Making Christmas cards with the mentally ill
I want to Live and I want to Love
I want to catch something that I might be ashamed of
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, this position I've held
It pays my way and it corrodes my soul
Oh I didn't realise that you wrote poetry
I didn't realise you wrote such bloody awful poetry, Mr. Shankly
Frankly, Mr. Shankly, since you ask
You are a flatulent pain in the arse
I do not mean to be so rude
Still I must speak frankly, Mr. Shankly
(Oh give us your money!)
05 Cemetry Gates (02:41)
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
While Wilde is on mine
So we go inside and we gravely read the stones
All those people, all those lives
Where are they now?
With loves and hates
And passions just like mine
They were born
And then they lived
And then they died
Seems so unfair
I want to cry
You say: "Ere thrice the sun hath done
salutation to the dawn"
And you claim these words as your own
But I've read well and I've heard them said
A hundred times (maybe less, maybe more)
If you must write prose or poems
The words you use should be your own
Don't plagiarise or take 'on loan'
There's always someone, somewhere
With a big nose who knows
And who trips you up and laughs
When you fall
Who'll trip you up and laugh
When you fall
You say: "Ere long done do does did"
Words which could only be your own
And then produce the text
From whence was ripped
'Some dizzy whore', 1804
A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're happy
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Oh Keats and Yeats are on your side
A dreaded sunny day
So let's go where we're wanted
And I meet you at the cemetry gates
Keats and Yeats are on your side
But you lose
'Cause weird lover Wilde is on mine
(Sure!)
06 Bigmouth Strikes Again (03:14)
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said I'd like to smash every tooth
In your head
Sweetness, sweetness I was only joking
When I said by rights you should be
Bludgeoned in your bed
And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her roman nose
And her walkman started to melt
Bigmouth.. bigmouth..
Bigmouth strikes again
And I've got no right to take my place
To the Human race
And now I know how Joan of Arc felt
Now I know how Joan of Arc felt
As the flames rose to her roman nose
And her hearing-aid started to melt
07 The Boy With the Thorn in His Side (03:17)
The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the Hatred there lies
A murderous desire for love
How can they look into my eyes
And still they don't believe me?
How can they hear me say those words
And still they don't believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they ever believe me?
And if they don't believe me now
Will they, will they ever believe me?
The boy with the thorn in his side
Behind the Hatred there lies
A plundering desire for love
How can they see the Love in our eyes
And still they don't believe us?
And after all this time
They don't want to believe us
And if they don't believe us now
Will they ever believe us?
And when you want to Live
How do you start?
Where do you go?
Who do you need to know?
08 Vicar in a Tutu (02:22)
I was minding my business
Lifting some lead off
The roof of the Holy Name church
It was worthwhile living a laughable life
To set my eyes on the blistering sight
Of a vicar in a tutu
He's not strange
He just wants to live his life this way
A scanty bit of a thing
Covered with a decorative ring
Wouldn't cover the head of a goose
As Rose collects the money in the cannister
Who comes sliding down the bannister?
Vicar in a tutu
He's not strange
He just wants to live his life this way
The monkish monsignor
With a head full of plaster
Said: "My man, get your vile soul dry-cleaned!"
As Rose counts the money in the cannister
As natural as Rain
And he dances again, my God
Vicar in a tutu..
The next day in the pulpit
With Freedom and Ease
Combatting ignorance, dust with disease
As Rose counts the money in the cannister
As natural as Rain
And he dances again and again..
With a fabric of a tutu
Any man could get used to
And I am the living sign
And I'm a living sign
I'm a living sign..
09 There Is a Light That Never Goes Out (04:03)
Take me out tonight
Where there's music and there's people
Who are young and alive
Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Anymore
Take me out tonight
Because I want to see people
And I want to see lights
Driving in your car
Oh please, don't drop me home
Because it's not my home, it's their home
And I'm welcome no more
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine
Take me out tonight
Take me anywhere, I don't care..
And in the darkened underpass
I thought: 'Oh God, my chance has come at last!'
But then a strange fear gripped me
And I just couldn't ask
Take me out tonight
Oh take me anywhere, I don't care..
Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven't got one
Oh I haven't got one
And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine
There is a light that never goes out
10 Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others (03:14)
From the ice-age to the dole-age
there is but one concern
I have just discovered
Some girls are bigger than others
some girls are bigger than others
some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers
As Antony said to Cleopatra
as he opened a crate of ale
oh I say
Some girls are bigger than others
some girls are bigger than others
some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' mothers
(Send me the pillow
The one that you dream on
Send me the pillow
The one that you dream on
And I'll send you mine...)
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Altre recensioni
Di humax4
"Il solo modo di salvare l'Inghilterra è uccidere Margaret Thatcher."
Un gran disco, sia per ciò che ha rappresentato dal punto di vista contenutistico, che da quello musicale.
Di pinkoSpallino
Il segreto del gruppo era dato dall’apporto del chitarrista Johnny Marr, influenzato da band americane anni 60 come i Byrds.
L’immagine della coppia che muore scontrandosi su un bus a due piani inglese è una delle più famose della storia del pop inglese.
