(Standalone single)
‘Punctured bicycle’…only Morrissey could open a pop song with a line that romantic; the other catchy opening words of wisdom you’d find in the top 40 just don’t come close. And it’s true also that only Morrissey could possible beat it (which he managed, just, with the hilarious, if a little odd, ‘churchillian legs’ of 1991’s “The Harsh Truth Of The Camera Eye”, from the album “Our Frank”), which has remained the case for over 25 years.
The ‘hillside desolate’ following this initial squeal of problematic homosexual delight, before 1983, virtually unseen in music, and never before on an indie record, just adds to the perversely warm feel of the song. Johnny Marr’s beautifully twangy and bouncy guitars (legendarily layered and overdubbed 12 times) are so complex and intricate from that impossible-to-play signature opening riff to the wah-wah spin of the chorus’ end, that they complement the lyrical undertones of the track wonderfully brightly to an almost too perfect point – and this is about, oooh, 12 seconds in?
Their first track to chart in the UK, “This Charming Man”, like “New Life” for Depeche Mode, and later, “Don’t Go” by Yazoo, became The Smiths’ most well known and remembered track, up until their untimely disbanding in 1987, and even now, in the frequent magazine toss-ups between best Smiths track, the debut single comes out on top, leaving other equally brilliant tracks like “How Soon Is Now?” and “Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me” second and third places in the polls.
Something about the hugely alternative vibe of the track at the time, when keyboards dominated the scene, seems to have had such a great effect on music listeners, that new generations can still be captured by that opening riff and know that the song is a landmark track in pop history. That stunning and unique combination of Morrissey’s tortured and desperate, homo-erotic narration and the seemingly juxtaposed joy and frolic of Marr’s rock ‘n’ roll, bright, loud guitars with Andy Rourke’s funky, funky bass line is very special, and though everything recorded by The Smiths has a place in both indie and pop history, it seems that this was the song that means the band has had such a massive and influence on many of today’s bands. Even amongst tragically beautiful tracks like “Back To The Old House”, and hilarious laugh-out-loud numbers like “Frankly Mr. Shankley”, this track stands out of the catalogue as a definite statement; we’re here, and we’re different – guitars instead of synths, gay undercurrents over soppy, straight love stories – it was one HELL of a statement indeed…
Morrissey’s message, about the ‘charming man’, is a half inwardly disgusted observation, half bizarre appraisal of the narrator, who believes himself not good enough for the affluent figure who has offered him a lift open seeing him stranded with a broken bicycle, yet still pleased to have found him. Though secretly, yet obviously to the listener, the narrator enjoys something about being looked down on, a sexual reference, and considerably more outrageous than any others being made through pop music in 1983.
Moz’s controversial voice would infamously land him spots in the music tabloids for the next 25 years of his career, “The Queen Is Dead” apparantly hinting at treason, “Bengali In Platforms”, “Asian Rut” and “The National Front Disco” at racism and perhaps most laughably, “Dear God, Please Help Me” for inciting that there may be an overtly ‘playful’, shall we say, side to God…naturally the singer has never said anything about his sexuality, preferring to aggravate the audiences who oppose him, and instead give hints through the music, often aiming jibes at those around him rather than using them to make obvious statements about himself.
Still, the ‘leather seats’ and the exotic image of ‘a jumped up pantry boy, who never knew his place’ add to this Grimm’s fairy tale vision of a strange little man excited by the prospect of a lover who is too good for him; strange indeed, but very unique and to a degree, humorous.
Indeed the engineering of the track is very interesting as well. There are a lot of studio layers here – as mentioned, at least 12 dedicated just to guitar, not forgetting of course, the echo track for Moz’s voice, the bass line, the drums, and later on alternate versions, such as the infamous New York remixes by François Kevorkian, several FX voices. It’s a chaotic bundle of very 80’s record engineering techniques, still managing to create something overwhelmingly sublime and engaging to listen to, each swerving stroke of the strings pulling you further and further in to the Indie mess that differentiates itself so clearly against a backdrop of programmed drum machines and comparably soulless synth lead dance tracks.
This is most obvious when the techniques themselves are not applied; live versions, especially the 50’s-esque, “Heartbeat” style John Peel session and the failed recording executed in London, capture a very stripped down version of the track, sometimes sounding mellow and flat, in the case of the London recording, other times sounding even more enchanting and vintage as with the Peel session – with this version especially, you begin to wonder if the song, since its just so perfect and musically accomplished, is a cover of a 50s song…
Devout fans, or those interested in the song’s technics should perhaps avoid, however, those infamous François Kevorkian mixes, done without permission of the band, and when released, causing a storm at the record company offices. The mixes, around 5 minutes in length, so well over double the length of the original song, make a big deal of that bass line, turning up the volume of that, and reducing the noise of the guitars, whacking loads of reverb on Moz’s voice and pushing the track to dance floor heights – or indeed lows in the opinion of the band, who, rightly, claimed that it went against everything they stood for…
So, that riff I keep mentioning. Well, it’s almost impossible to play. I won’t go into details, but there’s a lot of movement around the fret-board and you need to be fairly nimble to navigate your instrument and churn this kind of sound out of it, whilst keeping it flowing and groovy. So the joke goes that even Johnny Marr now isn’t as good as Johnny Marr was in 1983, but when you compare this sequence of notes to other successful guitar songs of the 1980s, you’ll find that there’s a lot more to hear and appreciate in this track than in any other.
The two songs of interest for those who want to look into the development of this parctiular song would be the original inspiration, and also the songs that Marr quoted to have ‘copied’ The Smiths; Aztec Camera’s “Walk Out To Winter”, released early in 1983 has a very similar edge to it; the guitars are free flowing and loud, lacking that final buzz Marr gives his track, but still quite serene in their incredible pace, something which you can appreciate much more through listening to the rarer 12” extended version of the song. Later in 1986, The Housemartins, later The Beautiful South, recorded the memorable “Happy Hour”, not so similar that the resemblance is uncanny, but enough so that as a writer of the music, you would understandably be peeved; though a good song nonetheless…
Another lovely little touch to this track is the cover art, preciously selected, as with every Smiths release, to represent the track in a mysterious yet often ionic and culturally intuitive way. Here, a shot of actor Jean Marais, face down in the mud in obscure Cocteau film, “Orphée”, a perfect and beautiful representation of the gay lover who hides his face from prejudice and in shame at the overbearing yet enticing superiority of his newfound adoration. Brilliant.
★★★★★
Versions of "This Charming Man"
7" Version – 2:42
John Peel session – 2:43
New York Remix by François Kevorkian – 5:35
New York Instrumental by François Kevorkian – 4:19
London Version – 2:47