By the early autumn the tank was being filled for the limo rides to Liverpool where the new Smiths album was to be recorded. John Porter was not involved with the album sessions this time. As far as Johnny was concerned, despite Hatful Of Hollow having been “banged out”, it was a fantastic record, and he decided to do the production job himself with the band. With Stephen Street firmly established as engineer, the band booked Amazon studios, hidden in the midst of one of Liverpool’s nastiest industrial estates, a fitting venue for Britain’s at-once most glamorous and most modest band to record. While the group was established in London, they had decided to move back north to record the album. “It was clear that we needed to come back to Manchester and get rained on,” Johnny said in retrospect. “It’s good for creativity.” The idea of a limo being The Smiths’ chosen mode of transport might have appeared somewhat at odds with their down-to-earth image, but in fact the ageing Mercedes was an ex-undertaker’s vehicle… much more fitting for the band’s profile. While the demands of publicity, tour requests, TV and radio continued to increase, there was an element of a siege mentality in the studio, strengthening the band’s resolve. Morrissey spoke publicly about the album’s progress as Christmas approached, enthusing that the songs were stronger than ever.
Meat Is Murder was touted by Johnny at the time as The Smiths’ Revolver – while the album hasn’t quite lived up to that reputation, it was to be one of their most influential releases. Not only did half the population of under twenty-year olds appear to take up Morrissey’s plea for vegetarianism in the wake of Meat Is Murder, but so did The Smiths. In later interviews, Joyce and Rourke have spoken about how much Morrissey’s influence was felt throughout the band on the subject, who were often torn between the need for a good fish and chip supper and an ideological premise that they all supported. Johnny, of course, remains a vegetarian – in fact, with a largely vegan diet – to this day.
Musically, the sessions that comprised Meat Is Murder produced a complex piece of work, in a little under two months. Slated for release the following February, the band wasted no time, and Johnny and Morrissey were at the peak of their game in terms of writing. However, the pressure was on in terms of managing the band and without close friend Moss at the helm and with the world clamouring ever more for interviews, tours, sessions, radio, TV etc, all this fell squarely on the shoulders of Morrissey and Marr. It was, simply put, exhausting. It is eternally to Morrissey’s credit that, within such an environment, he also managed to make his role as the band’s main spokesperson appear so easy. For Johnny, who would avoid interviews like the plague if he possibly could, it was hard enough, but Morrissey was appearing in every magazine, newspaper and music weekly in the land. The pressures “strengthened our resolve,” Johnny told Select. “We were driven. Morrissey and I would never sleep… It was just me, Morrissey and Angie… all the time.”
One track not on the original album but included on the remastered editions later (and, indeed, included on the original US release) did not emerge from the Liverpool sessions. ‘How Soon Is Now?’ has become, of course, another of the most notable Smiths tracks, covered and sampled across the years a number of times by other acts, most notably – and entertainingly perhaps – by Russian ‘lesbian combo’ Tatu. The song was written in February and recorded with John Porter in July at Jam studios in Finsbury Park. It was one of Johnny and Porter’s all-nighter sessions, with the pair locked together in the studio over the small hours of a Saturday night. John Porter tells of how the tape was posted through Morrissey’s letter box on the way home, and how the singer turned up at the studio the following day with the incredible lyrics complete. The track was nailed in no more than a couple of takes.
Everyone around the band recognised something special in ‘How Soon Is Now?’, but a decision was made at Rough Trade to only release it as the B-side of the twelve-inch version of ‘William, It Was Really Nothing.’ It was the wrong decision, and by the time the track was released as an A-side in its own right early in 1985, the song had been released so many times that it did well to reach a lowly number 24 in the chart. The argument has been put forward that Marr was ‘guilty’ of being too prolific, almost that there were simply too many potential A-side singles knocking around in this golden period of writing, but that sounds a bit like Manchester City supporters complaining that their team had won the Premiership by scoring too many goals. The failure to capitalise on ‘How Soon Is Now?’ earlier was perhaps a tactical flop that may have cost the band the major international hit they deserved. While there had been four single releases in the year from May 1983 to May 1984, it was six months before ‘How Soon Is Now?’ came out as an A-side. Touring would occupy the band when they were not in the studio, of course, but it was a surprising hiatus. The experience was disappointing for all concerned. “That’s where it all, sadly, started to fall apart,” said Porter. In fact ‘How Soon Is Now?’ proved to be Porter’s only appearance on the album, and he did not work with the band again for some considerable time. Meat Is Murder was credited for its production to ‘The Smiths’, and was ‘engineered’ by Stephen Street.
Trying to keep the customers satisfied, in November Rough Trade released the aforementioned Hatful Of Hollow. The band’s second official album release, the mid-price compilation (a sticker signalled that the maximum recommended retail price should be £3.99) enjoyed full-on design criteria and a fantastic selection of tracks culled from a variety of B-side sources, and including the superb sessions for the BBC. One track, ‘This Night Has Opened My Eyes’, was available for the first time on vinyl, and the band chose the Peel-session version over a studio track recorded at the same time as ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’. The blue sleeve featured a shot of an uncredited Cocteau model, not Joe Orton as it has often been said, with the band’s name proudly emblazoned in large-face type to pull casual listeners in from across the biggest record store. The album boasted a gatefold sleeve and a proper laminated card inner sleeve bearing the lyrics of each song. If Rough Trade had arguably stumbled on ‘How Soon Is Now?’ then – under Morrissey’s art-directing eye – they made up for it in spades with this unusual package. Hatful of Hollow drew in thousands of new listeners to The Smiths, who had maybe read about the band, heard a couple of tracks on the radio, and were curious to see what this new phenomenon consisted of. The album allowed instant easy access to the information required, and Hatful Of Hollow probably did more in the early years to broaden the band’s fan base than any other release. It remains a benchmark for many Smiths fans. Marr was unsure about the album before its release. While he knew how good many of the recordings were, and had the fondest memories of all the BBC sessions, the project was an unusual strategy for a band already planning their next studio album. But it worked.
The opening track was the resplendent single ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’, the whole band sounding wonderful. Johnny’s picking over meaty acoustic strumming, Mike Joyce’s drums high in the mix and Rourke’s punching bass providing a superb harmony to the guitar parts. The album was the door opener to thousands of new Smiths fans. Between Morrissey’s impassioned voice and Johnny’s fabulous arrangement there couldn’t have been a listener in the land who didn’t want to know more about this entertaining, enigmatic and enthusing four-piece. For the established fans who had studiously taped the Radio One sessions on their crackling cassette recorders, the release was a vindication of the quality of those sessions. After the familiar single came a track from the May 1983 Peel session, ‘What Difference Does It Make?’ Again, the track has an irresistible drive and panache, both in the band’s performance and in Morrissey’s vocal. Mike’s lilting beat and punishing fills complement the guitar and bass parts perfectly as Morrissey’s vocal sails off into the stratosphere. It was a significantly different version to that released as a single, more compact and with a far more prominent ‘live’ feel, and for many fans this version remains the beloved one.
‘These Things Take Time’ had a similar
feel – a rough diamond with all its facets evident to the jeweller’s eye before the stone is cut. The track was lifted from the BBC session of July 1983 recorded for David Jensen’s radio show, and again Joyce and Marr drive the track along with immense style and urgency. Sequenced into an album format, the pace at which each superb track followed the previous one was astonishing: these songs felt as though they had forever been destined to appear in such a format. More jaunty, and maintaining the fabulous pace of the album so far, ‘This Charming Man’ – from the September 1983 Peel session – is a highlight of the album, a permanent testament to the song’s first appearance on tape. The now-familiar opening chords of ‘How Soon Is Now?’ drift in with Johnny’s open-tuned Epiphone presenting one of rock’s most simple and immediately identifiable riffs, slowing the pace of the album down. By now the casual listener was hooked and the committed fan entranced. While the melody and lyric suggest a downbeat, sober wistfulness, the emotional tug of the track comes from it being musically in a major key but lyrically in a minor one. Joyce’s drums have some of the mechanical urgency of early Joy Division, while Rourke’s bass complements the ‘Faux Diddley’ guitar line. The jigsawing of the guitar parts together was a remarkable and inventive bit of studio trickery, as each burst of vibrato from the Fender amps was recorded individually, and track after track built up one at a time.
‘Handsome Devil’ was another lift from May’s Peel session. Redolent of the earlier Troy Tate version, but laced with an urgency and poison in Morrissey’s delivery, Johnny preferred this version, all three instrumentalists lashing out on the track. ‘Hand In Glove’ was blistering, ‘Still Ill’’s punchy harmonica intro and exquisite guitar provided the perfect foil for Morrissey’s vocal, and ‘Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now’ opened up side two with as much carefree abandon as The Smiths could muster. ‘This Night Has Opened My Eyes’ was claustrophobic and dark, while ‘You’ve Got everything Now’ and ‘Accept Yourself’ were abrasive and perfectly enunciated.
The album came to a close through lovely versions of ‘Girl Afraid’, a gorgeous version of ‘Back To The Old House’, ‘Reel Around The Fountain’ and the poignant ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want’. Johnny’s heart-wrenching mandolin finish to the song, included at the suggestion of John Porter, was one of his most distinctive pieces to date, and it drifts off the end of the album with one clear message: ‘watch this space.’
Released on November 24 in the UK, the gatefold sleeve showed a relaxed but serious side to the band, a shot taken backstage at Glastonbury. Morrissey wore his hearing aid, spectacles and boldly-striped shirt, a near-smile of irony on his lips. Looking drained and staring directly into the camera, Mike Joyce sits with a cigarette burning through his finger-tips. Andy Rourke is in mid bass-line, and – half-hidden in the background – Johnny is strapped up to his guitar too, his right hand poised mid-pick over the strings. Grainy, insular, involved – the picture of The Smiths at work. Reviewers in general loved the album. Adrian Thrills noted Marr’s considerable contribution, referencing his “multi-tracked barrage”, the “splendour in simplicity” and the “magnificence… of misery.” Thrills referred to Marr as “one of the era’s truly great instrumentalists” – this in effect only months into their career. For Sounds, Bill Black wrote of the “economy and excitement” of the package, and for many listeners the album not only filled the gap between bona fide studio albums, but cemented all that was wonderful about the band both in the studio and live – the fired-up musical attack, the lyrical splendour, the professionalism and the naivety combined. A taste of honey mixed with a spoonful of some harder medicine to ward off the winter ills of November 1984. The album spent almost a year in the UK charts, peaking at number seven – a considerable achievement for a compilation record from a band who had still to prove themselves.
The Irish concerts which immediately followed the album’s release saw a set comprised of established favourites, to which the audiences sang along valiantly, and new songs destined for the next all-new studio album. Replacing Cilla’s Beatles’ song ‘Love Of The Loved’ as the introductory music for the gigs, the band took the stage to the strains of Prokoviev’s ‘March Of The Capulets’ from Romeo And Juliet, a brash and dramatic change of tone that the band retained for much of the rest of its career as a live act. With the single ‘William, It Was Really Nothing’ still in the hearts of the fans, the band’s profile was high, and the reception from the audiences was without exception fantastic. The new tracks that the band played went down as well as the established favourites. ‘I Want The One I Can’t Have’, ‘What She Said’, ‘Nowhere Fast’, ‘Barbarism Begins At Home’– which was originally introduced as ‘Fascism Begins At Home’ – and ‘Rusholme Ruffians’ all got an outing. ‘Barbarism Begins At Home’ was to become a favoured set-opener, sometimes extending to a work-out of more than fifteen minutes as the band blitzed audience after audience. On occasion Johnny would throw lines from The Beatles’ ‘Day Tripper’ into his own riffs. Reports from the concerts recall Morrissey admonishing latter-day punks for spitting at the band from the audience with the words “If you don’t like us… leave!”
Sea-sickness was rife on the journey over from Holyhead, and Johnny was briefly hospitalised on arrival, but he was soon reunited with the rest of the band at their Dublin hotel. After the last gig in Belfast, the band played their final live date of the year in Paris. The set list was pretty much as in Ireland, including the Meat Is Murder songs, but ‘Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want’ – which had opened a number of the Irish concerts – was dropped.
The pop year came to an end with Band Aid’s ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’, the biggest of all charity singles, as pop egos were apparently ‘left at the door’ in the recording of the best-selling seven-inch of all time. The Smiths were not involved. For Johnny, the end of the year brought reflection. 1984 was one hell of a year for the twenty-one year old. Back in the previous December, he had had two singles and a handful of gigs to look back on in the previous year. Now, there had been three more hit singles, two successful albums, tours that would have made Keith Richards think twice about getting out of bed, a partnership with Sandie Shaw, collaborations with like-minded peers, the continuation of his relationship, despite interruption, with girlfriend Angie, and a move to London. Johnny Marr had the world at his feet.
Weeks into the new year, a Valentine’s card to the world, Meat Is Murder was finally released to an ecstatic reception. Doubling the Smiths’ visibility, the band appeared on Top Of The Pops the same night, presenting the new single ‘How Soon Is Now?’ to the world on February 14. The band (almost) swept the board in the NME Reader’s Poll. As well as being voted the ‘Best Group’, Johnny was voted ‘Best Instrumentalist’ and he and Morrissey took the gong for ‘Best Songwriter’, while Morrissey was runner-up as ‘Best Vocalist’.
The new album declared a more sophisticated Marr sound, broader in scope, from Fifties-influenced rockabilly to spaced-out funk. The opening track ‘The Headmaster Ritual’ was written on an acoustic guitar in open D tuning, its expressive chords influenced by Joni Mitchell’s innovative tunings. Johnny jigsawed various unfinished pieces into the final song, the guitar parts – played largely on Martins and Rickenbackers – planned with military precision. It remains one of his personal favourites, dating so far back that it was almost three years from the initial concept to the finished vocal track. ‘The Headmaster Ritual’ was another track on the receiving end of tabloid attention in the UK, with Morrissey’s scathing and specific lyrics about ‘Manchester schools’ inspiring interviews with the current headmaster of his alma mater.
The band had already tried out ‘Rusholme Ruffians’ a number of times since September. If the London media thought they had The Smiths by the scruff of the neck, here was another song to nail the band firmly in Manchester, Rusholme lying a mile to the south of the city centre. The song, introduced by the sound of a fairground ride, was a beautiful homage by Mor
rissey to “the last night of the fair”, and by Johnny to Elvis Presley’s ‘(Marie’s The Name) His Latest Flame’, into which the band would regularly segue in live performances. Marr’s lightness of touch on the song’s two-chord lick is delightful, but Andy particularly lit up the track with one of his ‘hum this too’ bass lines.
‘I Want The One I Can’t Have’ kept the pace of the album up, one of Johnny’s most brisk and sprightly tracks, the blend of acoustic and electric guitars and bass as sharp as a nettle sting. The track was mooted as the next Smiths single, but was supplanted by ‘How Soon Is Now?’ ‘What She Said’ combined punishing riffs from Marr with Joyce’s part-glam, part-metal drums into a savage piece, while ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore’ took the foot off the accelerator for a slow waltz around the ballroom. Johnny coloured the track with several layers of treated guitars that howl alongside Morrissey’s emotional fade out, only to fade back in after the vocal has drifted away. The arrangement was superb, Morrissey’s performance one of his very best in the canon of Smiths releases, and Johnny’s guitar a delight. The track was one of Marr’s favourite Smiths tracks, and Morrissey’s vocals one of his favourites too.
‘Nowhere Fast’, another song commercial enough to have been released as a single, was actually only released as a live version on the B-side of the twelve inch issue of ‘That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore.’ Introduced with a Sun-classic bit of rockabilly, the upbeat nature of the song, and Morrissey’s ‘on the beat’ vocal were an irresistible blend. Morrissey develops a number of themes in the lyric that re-appear often within The Smiths’ canon. With the relative chart stalling of some of the recent singles, it seemed a shame that the song wasn’t used more productively. ‘Well I Wonder’ ran like a pedigree horse tightly reined in by its rider, a beautifully arranged, discretely played song loaded with understated emotion, literally washed clean at the close by the sounds of a shower of rain from a soundtrack album. The song was imbued with a simplicity and spirit that defined the best of the band. It’s interesting to note that while Johnny had berated other bands for trying to innovate too much in the wake of Byrne and Eno’s My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts, many Smiths songs were enlivened by dubbed-in sound effects and pre-recorded samples. The difference is that where Byrne and Eno used the insertion of sound sources to establish themes and develop observational criteria, The Smiths used them more like watercolour washes dropped into or over a completed song, thereby adding grace or atmosphere. ‘Well I Wonder’ was one lovely example of this process at work.
Johnny Marr Page 10
