18. The Smiths, S/T

Listen, we've all been lonely. We've all been heartsick. We've all felt at one time as if we would live the rest of our lives in a deep, dark place that never sees the light of love. But no matter how many goth poems you've written, no matter how many times you sighed and declared your life to be meaningless, no matter how many times unrequited love slapped you in the face, you could never, ever pull off patheticness quite like Morrissey. It's in every note he sings. It's in every syllable, every word. The pain that emanates from his tortured soul reaches out like a disembodied pair of arms searching for a hug.

Listening to this album makes me want to track Morrissey down and give him that hug he yearns for and tell him, don't worry, baby. Here, have some Xanax and a nice shot of tequila and comfort yourself with the fact people still like you. Perhaps not Johnny Marr, but people, nonetheless.

Honestly, I've grown tired of a lot of artists from this era. But I never, ever grow tired of The Smiths. In fact, today I ate a lonely, pathetic lunch of 2 dollar chinese food while reading the obituaries and listening to this album. Even when I'm not on the bottom of the world, Morrissey reminds me what it was like to be there. He keeps me humble.

Favorite song: This Charming Man
The History of the Smiths