The Smiths "The Queen Is Dead" [1986]

There's definitely a point where wryness becomes torture, and on "The Queen Is Dead," glum sour-grapes peddler Morrissey crosses the line purposely and routinely, rendering this volume of echoey 80s indie tracks a series of drips to the forehead. Speaking of drips, Morrissey's horrid mama's-boy neuroses and paranoid delusions are bad enough, but packaged in a somber voice that has only sung the same four notes in its entire existence, it's amazing he and his edgeless Edge-guitarist Johnny Marr got to do a third album at all. Slow, whiny, precious and spiteful, "The Queen Is Dead" rocks about as hard as Everything But the Girl checking out a library book. Morrissey unmistakably sings as if he's dancing ballet alone in front of a full-length mirror and loathing every second of it. So naturally he pursues fame for its own sake like any navel-gazing queer boy; why anyone bought into it is a different story -- Thatcher-hatred back then must have been at an all-time peak to let this moaning misfit anywhere near the UK Singles Chart. And if you're listening to find out if the dead queen in question is actually himself, be prepared for even further disappointment -- this guy's sticking around at least as long as Elizabeth has.