Why I Love the Smiths - By Russell Brand
If I had to explain why The Smiths are the most amazing thing in the world it?s because they reach into the part of you where you feel the most weak, vulnerable and unacceptable and glorify it, make it heroic. With me it?s beyond just having a favourite band. It?s more like what Nick Hornby says about Van Morrison in Fever Pitch. If somebody doesn?t like The Smiths, that?s a black mark against them in my book.
I was only 12 years old when they split up in 1987. Before that I didn?t know fuck all. I just cared about Elvis and comedy. So I suppose you could see where I was heading. My cousins were about five years old than me. At that age I wanted them to like me so I started listening to The Smiths to impress them. But then I realised how incredible they were. To begin with it would have been the obvious classics. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, The Boy With The Thorn In His Side, compilation albums like Louder Than Bombs. Then when I hit 15 the words suddenly became more pertinent. Puberty, basically. The age when everything Morrissey sings becomes incredibly relevant.
Johnny Marr is a brilliant musician in his own right and theirs was a wonderful collaboration, but my love of The Smiths is primarily a love of Morrissey and a love of Morrissey?s lyrics. That goes for his later solo stuff as well, from (1994′s) Vauxhall and I right the way through (2009′s) Years of Refusal. He?s been pretty consistent. Every album has its works of art, its arias of angst. And he writes great jokes. I don?t get it when people say to me, ?Oh, Morrissey?s so miserable.? Fuck off, he?s hilarious!
There was a time when I wanted to be a singer like Morrissey but I wasn?t good enough. These days I?m happy to just swish the mic cable when I?m doing stand-up, that?s as close as I get. Plus I?m very fortunate in that I now know Morrissey. He refers to me as ?a man with ringlets in his hair who wears makeup and has eye-gouging rings on each of his 12 fingers.?
I wouldn?t say we?re friends, but I don?t mean that in a derogatory way. It?s not like, say, Noel Gallagher. I knew Oasis before I knew Noel, I was a fan, and now I consider Noel to be a mate. But Morrissey is Morrissey. Still. I don?t ever forget that I?m talking to Morrissey. I do sometimes go, ?Erm, M-M-Morrissey, tell me what?s your favorite S-Smith?s track?? That?s just how I am with him. But he?s consistently, resolutely and absolutely Morrissey. I?ve never got a word of sense out of him. He won?t talk like a normal person. He never says, ?Now, Russell, here?s an anecdote for you?? It?s always weird, pithy, peculiar aphorisms and stuff. It?s not a friendship, it?s being allowed to go near Morrissey. I feel like I?m the head of the fan club rather than a friend. And I?d never do anything to antagonise him because then I?d lose my position as the head of the fan club.
He?s come to see me do stand-up. The early gigs I did in Los Angeles, I?ve had Morrissey in the audience when there?s been 50 people, and one of them him. All I could see was his quiff sticking above his head like Mickey Mouse?s ears. I looked out and thought, ?Shit! Morrissey?s in the room!? But afterwards he came up to me and said, ?I don?t know how you do it.? I was speechless. He?s really very kind. He?s autographed things for my mates. I got him to sign something for David Walliams once. A few years ago he sent me a vinyl copy of his Ringleader of the Tormentors album. It was around the time my autobiography My Booky Wook came out. So he signed it, ?To Russell. My Disky Wisk. Love Morrissey.?
His music is always in my life. I listen to The Smiths and Morrissey if not every day then certainly a few times a week. The other day I met this girl who had a tattoo of, ?There is a light that never goes out? on her. I was thinking about it, how I wouldn?t do the same. Because I don?t need The Smiths? words on my body. They?re written all over my heart.