Live Review: Johnny Marr

It’s 29 years since The Smiths released The Queen is Dead. She isn’t. Freddie Mercury is, though. We were so, so wrong. But Thatcher is too, so it ain’t all bad.

There’s always an element of fear in watching your heroes decades after their defining moments. Johnny Marr dispels this fear by making you realise - instantly - that as far as he’s concerned, The Smiths may have defined a point in time, but there’s no time like the present.

Marr took the stage to rapturous applause and kicked off with the title track from his 2014 release, Playland, featuring his distinctive guitar style (Jag/Fender set-up for the tyre kickers), but in a much more straightforward, stripped-back rock approach than Smiths devotees might have been expecting.

In short, Marr kicks ass. His guitar playing can’t help but be beautiful and melodic, but by god the man knows how to kick out the jams.

Perhaps there’s a certain level of irony in choosing Stop Me as his first Smiths song, but apart from being a crowd-pleaser, it quelled any doubts as to what the night would be like. Marr is a great singer, with a different style to that other guy, so he simply does the songs his way. And it’s awesome.

From there he dove forward into his own back catalogue with The Right Thing Right  (The Messenger, 2013) and a deliciously savage version of Easy Money - a sort of love-child between Blur’s Boys And Girls and I Was Made For Loving You with a sharp and dangerous twist.

Best of all, the overhead view of the dance floor revealed a hell of a lot of bald and grey/silver haired crew jumping, swaying and dancing and generally having a great time. The kids grew up to be more than alright, although their kids might be horrified by the sight.

Headmaster Ritual was the perfect moment to reflect on what it is that makes Marr a guitar godhead. Technical virtuosos hate this kind of guitar hero, because it often looks like he’s doing nothing - his left hand barely seems to move - and he just lets these beautiful lead and rhythm guitar patterns flow out. Except this time, he was doing it while doing Morrissey’s job as well. Effortlessly.

A gig highlight would have to be his version of Bigmouth Strikes Again - apart from being an obvious crowd favourite, Marr’s version is so inherently dangerous it’ll make you look at the song in a new way - less ironic bravado and more straightforward threat.

There’s not enough space in this review to cover all the magic, but his encore set was a pure delight with unexpected covers of Depeche Mode’s I Feel You and Clash/Crickets I Fought The Law before a full audience participation version of How Soon is Now - arguably his finest work with the Smiths.

Particularly in the British music press, the entire ‘90s was an endless parade of “...best band since The Smiths.” Only Suede’s Bernard Butler came to close to Marr, and largely by developing from his sound.

In 2015, Johnny Marr is the best Johnny Marr since Johnny Marr. His is a light that may never go out. Or as his shirts proclaim: Johnny Fucking Marr.

Originally published in X-Press Magazine