Tony Fletcher - A Light That Never Goes Out: The Enduring Saga of the Smiths

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Copyright 2012 by Tony Fletcher

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Crown Archetype,
an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group,
a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
www.crownpublishing.com

Crown Archetype with colophon is a trademark
of Random House, Inc.

Photo credits: INSERT ONE : Pat Bellis, reproduced by kind permission of Rough Trade.
INSERT TWO : Tony Fletcher

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Fletcher, Tony.
A light that never goes out : the enduring saga of the Smiths /
Tony Fletcher. 1st ed. 1. Smiths (Musical group)
2. Rock musiciansEnglandBiography. I. Title.

ML421.S614F54 2012
782.421660922dc23

[B] 2012024784

eISBN: 978-0-307-71597-5

Jacket design by Raid71
Jacket photograph: Stephen Wright/Redferns

v3.1

To everyone who survived the 80s

I t takes a particular confidence for one unknown musician to pronounce to another that their first meeting has the hallmarks of legend. But then Johnny Marr, eighteen years old when he arrived uninvited at the Stretford home of Steven Patrick Morrissey one afternoon in May of 1982, had such confidence in abundance; what he did not have, and it was the reason he had come knocking on the door of the nondescript semidetached council house at 384 Kings Road that day, was a partner for his singular talent on the guitar.

Steven Morrissey, a writer of speculative merit and a singer of absolutely no repute whatsoever, managed but sporadic bursts of self-assurance. Though he had been a figure about town since punk rock had exploded in Manchester with a special vigor back in 1976, and was respected, even liked, for his quick wit and bookish intellect, he frequently retreated into a shyness that, as he later penned with devastating certitude, was criminally vulgar. Unlike Marr, who seemed to be on first-name terms with almost everyone involved in Manchester street culture, Morrissey could count his friends on the fingers of one hand. He lived on Kings Road with his divorced mother. He was unemployedby choice, for sure, but unemployed all the same. He was turning twenty-three that month. By any standard measurement, time appeared to be passing him by.

Aware of Morrisseys shyness, Marr did not show up alone. He was accompanied on his mission by Stephen Pomfret, a mutual guitar-playing acquaintance whose presence was perhaps justified by the painfully long time it took Morrissey to descend from his bedroom to the front door. But once Pomfret had made the introductions, then Marr, not known to waste his time on trivialities, announced that he was on a quest for a singer and lyricist, and Morrissey, not previously known to accept strangers into his life at first glance, promptly invited the visitors in.

The trio ascended to Morrisseys bedroom, where, amidst a life-size cut-out of James Dean and shelves laden with books on feminism, film criticism, and crime, there stood the requisite record player and a collection of neatly filed 45s. Marr, whose encyclopedic knowledge of popular music was arguably unrivaled among Mancunians his age, immediately gravitated to the vinyl, and Morrissey, whose own outspoken opinions on the form had seen him ascend from letter writer to concert reviewer with the weekly music papers over the years, invited his guest to play something. If it was a test of taste, Marr was thrilled to take it: the singles were heavy on the 1960s girl pop that he himself had been busy accumulating on recent trips to secondhand stores, the sort of music he hadnt dare assume anyone else in his vicinity followed with quite such a passion. Bypassing Sandie Shaw and the Shangri-Las, much though he liked the British pop star and, especially, the New York girl group, he instead pulled out a rare 1966 flop single by the Marvelettes on Tamla Motown. It was an American jukebox copy, with the center hole punched out, and it didnt specify the A-side. So rather than play Paper Boy, which had the traditional uptempo Motown feel, Marr put on its flip, Youre the One, a slower Smokey Robinson composition, and then sang along to prove that he knew the song, that this was more than just a cute gesture. Morrissey was impressed; Marr later said that he felt that was the moment that initiated their friendship.

The pair talked excitedly for the next couple of hours, Pomfret fading into the background, aware that for all the talk of him as a second guitarist in their future band, he was already superfluous to requirements. Morrissey and Marr, so different in age, dress sense, social skills, and various other interests, quickly bonded over that which they had in common: musica journey that took them from the present day back to Patti Smith and the New York Dolls, then to David Bowie and T. Rex, to the Stooges and the Velvet Underground, and on through 60s girl pop, to a love for rockabilly advertised by their matching retro quiff haircuts. As they sat there in Morrisseys bedroom, they spoke of seeing their own names on a record labelnot just as artists but as composers. That Morrissey had but a handful of half-formed lyrics currently to his name or that Marr had never completed a song to his own satisfaction mattered little; they could sense in each other a shared sense of purpose and dedication, of craftsmanship and intellect. To borrow a phrase from more of their influencesLou Reed describing his and Andy Warhols work ethic with the Velvet Undergroundneither of them was kidding around.

Johnny Marr had a reference point all his own for their meeting. He had recently watched a documentary that detailed how, way back in 1950, a sixteen-year-old lyricist had knocked on the door of a fellow teenage pianist with a view to forming a songwriting partnership; the pair had gone on to become one of the most successful in popular music. It was the account of this unscripted meeting that had given Marr the inspiration to visit the mysterious Morrissey in the first place. And so he couldnt help himself.

Hey, said Johnny, this is just how Leiber and Stoller met!

Leiber and Stoller. Not Lennon and McCartney or Jagger and Richards, though in years to come the names Morrissey and Marr would frequently be spoken of in the same reverential terms, just as the band that they formed out of their meeting that day, the Smiths, would similarly be hailed as Britains greatest since the Beatles and the Rolling Stones. No, when they first met, Morrissey and Marr looked instead to America for inspiration, where Leiber and Stoller, composers and/or producers of Hound Dog, Jailhouse Rock, Stand By Me, and so many more, helped turn a nation of white teenagers on to black rhythm & blues, playing a crucial part in the explosion of rock n roll and the phenomenon that was Elvis Presley. Three decades since that fateful first encounter, Leiber and Stoller were still self-confessed soul mates. Marrs desire to emulate such an introduction was entirely understandable.