Like many of my blogging peers, and doubtless many of you, I was shocked and saddened to learn yesterday of the death of Andy Rourke.
For those of you who are not familiar with the name, Andy was the bass player with the finest band of the 1980s, The Smiths.
Whilst the spotlight predictably fell on singer Morrissey and guitarist Johnny Marr, the rhythm section, Rourke and drummer Mike Joyce were always solid, reliable and, seemingly happy to let the other two receive all of the attention. Watch any performance by the band, ignore the gladioli-waving whirling histrionics of Morrissey and the happy jangling and rock star stylings of Marr and there, to the side, is Rourke, doing his thing and not making a big show of it.
That was, of course, until the band split, and Joyce and Rourke took Morrissey and Marr to court for a more equal share of the band’s royalties. Throughout the band’s short life, Morrissey and Marr took 40% each, whilst Rourke and Joyce took 10% each. They were, their barrister said, treated like session musicians as “readily replaceable as the parts in a lawnmower.”
To anyone who has cast even the slightest of ear in the direction of a Smiths record will know that simply wasn’t the case, and the judge ultimately agreed. Whilst Rourke settled out of court, Joyce received a more favourable result than he.
I mention this rather unpleasant episode merely to highlight the irreplaceable, integral, court approved contribution that Rourke made to those wonderful records. But surely the best way is to revisit some of those recordings and let them speak for themselves.
Perhaps the finest example of Rourke’s talent and adaptability came on their second album proper, with a tune which saw the band stretch out to an unexpected blistering funky disco sound:
The Smiths – Barbarism Begins at Home
Many have tried, and failed, to copy Marr’s beautiful jangling guitar spangles, but if you’ve ever attempted to play that bass line, you’ll know it’s just as difficult to replicate. I’ve tried, Lord knows I’ve tried, and got nowhere near.
In a not entirely dissimlar vein, comes this (I’ve posted the Peel Session version which popped up on the band’s final release, Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me, before the endless slew of reissue, repackage, repackage began in earnest. To these ears, Rourke’s bass line seems a little more prominent in the mix than the version on Meat is Murder):
The Smiths – Rusholme Ruffians (Peel Session)
And here, on the opening track from their debut album, Rourke’s bass rolls beautifully, mournfully, and thus fitting perfectly:
The Smiths – Reel Around the Fountain
Of course, social media was awash yesterday with kind words, happy memories and sad condolences, but none more moving I thought than this:
Hear, hear.
So, to round things off, perhaps predictably, the band’s most iconic song where again Rourke’s performance has that beautiful, rolling, lilting quality that only he could do:
The Smiths – There Is A Light That Never Goes Out
Rest in Peace, Andy. You may have gone, but may your light never go out.
More soon.
A History of Dubious Taste 