(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: The Smiths Album Title: The world won’t listen Year released: 1987 Year reissued: 2011 Details: Remastered, double LP, part of box set that includes booklet and poster
The skinny: Happy Sunday! Are you getting tired of seeing pictures of the pieces from this box set yet? Patience. Just a couple installments to go. This compilation, whose title is an expression of Morrissey’s frustration at the band’s lack of exposure, gathers together a bunch of the band’s singles and their b-sides, released between 1985 and 1987. As a record, it’s one that doesn’t see the platter often because of the compilation that was originally released a mere months after this one and that one will be featured next week. That other one is a big favourite of mine and the song featured below is one of only two songs from this one not available there.
Standout track: “The boy with the thorn in his side”
(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: The Smiths Album Title: Hatful of hollow Year released: 1984 Year reissued: 2011 Details: Remastered, gatefold sleeve, part of box set that includes booklet and poster
The skinny: Now that I’ve gotten through the four studio LPs, it’s time to start in on the multiple compilation albums that were released by The Smiths, starting with “Hatful of hollow”. I’ve mentioned in replies to comments on a previous post in this series that I actually prefer their singles, many of which don’t appear on the albums, over their proper studio albums. So for me, these compilations are where the meat of The Smiths best work resides. Released in 1984, “Hatful of hollow” gathers together recordings of the multiple live performances by the band on the BBC, all made prior to the release of their debut, as well as a few A-sides and B-sides of singles released around the time. This compilation is a compelling listen because those BBC versions are often quite different from those found elsewhere. Finally, of all the great tunes on this record, I’ve chosen the song below because this is the only disc in the box that includes “This charming man”. And well, it is a great tune!
You may have noticed that I’m on a bit of a Smiths bender here, running through my “Complete” box set, one piece at a time, in my weekend ‘Vinyl love’ series. And if you did notice, you might be thinking that I’m a bit of a fanatic of the band, which, of course, you wouldn’t be wrong in thinking. However, things didn’t start out that way. I actually came to them late. And it was long after I was fan of Morrissey’s solo material.
Back when I was in the dog days of high school, my friend John fed my suddenly voracious appetite for new music by getting me into bands like Depeche Mode, The Housemartins, and The Cure. He would loan me a handful of compact discs at a time and I would record the ones I enjoyed before returning them. A couple early Morrissey albums came to me in this way but he would never allow any of his Smiths discs to leave his possession. I later learned while living him with him during my last few years of university that this was because he was constantly playing them, ad nauseum, which further delayed my ability to form an appreciation of their music.
Morrissey’s third solo album, “Your arsenal”, was my gateway to his music, being, first, the latest of his works at the time, and second, being that it was a change in direction towards a more rock edge, likely appealed to my transforming tastes. Morrissey had formed a new backing band for this album and together, they infused some glam and rockabilly sensibilities to the work. Track number five, “Certain people I know”, our song of today, for instance, has that twangy slide guitar and swinging beat, a comfy bed that surprisingly feels tailor-made for Morrissey’s warbling vocals. And there he is flirtatiously playing upon words, sneaking a side-long and knowing glance, and dancing across the stage with abandon. He’s taking a cue from his heroes and other certain people he knows and having a blast while doing it.
“They look at danger and they laugh their heads off.”
I once bought a T-shirt with that very line emblazoned on the back. It was on a solo trip to the big city with birthday money burning a hole in my pocket. I had gotten the lowdown from friends on where to look for eight-hole Doctor Martens on Yonge Street and took the GO train in, listening to “Your arsenal” on my Walkman all the way to T-dot. After purchasing the boots, I happened into a store selling what I’m pretty sure now were bootlegged concert Tees and came out with a black one with “Your arsenal” album cover art on the front and said lyric on the back. I wore it countless times over the following months, that is, until it fell into the wrong laundry wash load and was shrunk a couple sizes too small. I ended up giving it to that same friend, John, who introduced me to Morrissey in the first place.
“I use the cue and then I hand it on to you.”
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1992 list, click here.
My (life in) music lists 