I would go out tonight, but*

I would struggle to name my favourite Smiths album, let alone a favourite song, such is my affection for the group. However, if I was forced on pain of death to name one tune it would have to be the classic 1983 single “This Charming Man” (only their second ever release), a choice in which I am sure I am far from alone in making, both within the vast legions of fellow Smiths fans, but also perhaps amongst more fair-weather aficionados.

For there is little doubt that the song is one of their most famous numbers, if not the most, and is also the single release that propelled them from indie pretenders with a solid live reputation and a burgeoning critical acclaim, into a band that tore up the pop and rock charts throughout the mid-Eighties and along the way inspired a generation of musicians to seek to emulate their greatness. Few, however, came close. The influence of The Smiths, and indeed the story of this and other milestones in their recording career, is for another time though. For now I just want to dwell on the song itself, a moment of pure pop genius that still sends a tingle down my spine every time I hear Johnny Marr’s immortal jangly guitar intro, Andy Rourke’s rollicking bass thump soon after, and then the perfect brief pause before the onset of Morrissey at his most captivating, fey and swoonsome.

For here is a song that just encapsulates everything that there is to love about the group, and wraps it in under three minutes of blissful pop brilliance. There is Johnny Marr at his pop guitar best, creating a lick of sheer delight that cuts you to the core with its simple joy. There is the oft overlooked but crucial drum and bass drive of Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce. And then there is Morrissey as the king of the multi-layered lyric, revelling in his own arrogance, and yet somehow fragile in his own as yet fully-fledged sense of sexuality. And it is the lyrics which suck me in every time I hear it, sung in Morrissey’s trademark plaintive half-sigh, half croon, with power and purpose, and yet so textured and dense they have the feel of a George Eliot novel condensed into pop stanzas.

That the song is about bisexuality and an old fashioned hidden and coded homoeroticism has been analysed and raked over too many times to warrant attention here. Instead it is worth just pausing slightly to marvel at the sheer poetry of a man who can begin a pop song with a line about a puncture on a desolate hillside and not seem, well frankly, ridiculous. But even when ridiculous, Morrissey is convincing and authentic, and indeed often can be found with his tongue in cheek, evoking a very British sense of humour and sardonic mirth. I have spoken before about the scenes of the north of England that the music of The Smiths evokes, and arguably none more so than with “This Charming Man”.

It is quite simply a superb song amongst a catalogue that boasts an embarrassment of riches. But as I said previously, a musical epic that excites like the first time on every hearing. A classic from the very first note to the last. As the man himself might have said, why pamper life’s complexities when simplicity sounds as good as this?