Friday, July 8, 2022

The Smiths, The Smiths (1984)

The Smiths, man. I love 'em. When they made this album, you and I weren't even a gleam in our daddy's eye. I heard this and I want to go on a Smiths run.

Sure, Morrisey is a weirdo with reactionary politics. But he's also a sensitive artist and just as much a poet as Dylan, only Morrisey can actually sing.

The first time I deliberately listened to The Smiths couldn't have been more than six years ago. At the time, I couldn't believe anybody could like this kind of music. It sounded too sincere. But I think as I get older, I'm fonder of artists who for the sake of authenticity and honesty risk coming off sincere to the point where the art is almost saccharine.

Of course, I say this, and yet I don't think I will ever like a Wes Anderson film.

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