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        "The Smiths meant absolutely 
        zip to me when I was growing up. I wanted freedom, adrenalin and noise, 
        not suffocating sixth-form poetry and anal song-craft. Or so I thought. 
        These days I'm finding myself spinning The Smiths more and more, genuinely 
        marvelling at Morrissey's fantastically pithy and beautifully melancholic 
        lyrics. 
        Maybe it was the times that were against them for me. The mid-1980s were 
        an awful time for English independent music, dominated by footballers 
        in trench-coats like New Order and Echo And The Bunnymen, and somehow 
        The Smiths - whom posterity has shown to be a million miles removed from 
        such artlessly grey dorks - were caught up in it all. Even today they're 
        seen as being part of some classic continuum of Great British Bands, alongside 
        dullards such as The Stone Roses and Oasis, yet none of these groups could 
        boast a personality quite so puzzling and unique as Morrissey. And for 
        me The Smiths quite simply were Morrissey, with guitarist Johnny Marr 
        merely helping him channel his hilariously idiosyncratic worldview. 
        1986's The Queen Is Dead is undoubtedly their finest moment. The production 
        is muggy and thick, all late-winter breath, and Morrissey is at his funniest 
        on Bigmouth Strikes Again and Frankly, Mr Shankly. Still, it's There Is 
        A Light That Never Goes Out that hits you in the guts every time, a beautiful 
        paean to getting out, to the pull of the city lights, to all that lies 
        ahead of you. Just heartbreakingly gorgeous. " 
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