Morrissey is a U.S. cult hero and Robert Forster isn't, but forsure neither is as famous as the group he came up with: the Smiths,mid-'80s U.K. teen heroes, and the Go-Betweens, Australians so quietlyliterary they spent half their career in the mother country. Butchart-topping bands get old just like unjustly neglected ones--fasterwhen led by miserable egomaniacs like Morrissey. And only rarelyis the fickle public enraptured by the self-expression that ensues. The Smiths broke up just as the adult unknown was swallowing theirformerly faithful, who will never forgive Morrissey for chuckingguitarist Johnny Marr and wouldn't have forgiven him for tradinghis self-pity for sarcasm anyway. As an adult who always found theSmiths too too, I prefer him that way--Every Day Is Like Sunday,on the singles collectionBona Drag (Sire/Warner Bros.),is one of the funniest celebrations of teen miserabilism ever recorded,and onKill Uncle, the dish just keeps on coming (inthe usual fits and starts) right up to the crowningThere's aPlace in Hell for Me and My Friends. But even though the we-can-work-it-out-and-up pleaBaby Stonesis his greatest song, the title of Forster's maturely unkineticDanger in the Past (Beggars Banquet) sums it up. Hopethe band retrospective1978-1990 (Capitol), half greatestnonhits and half fairly great outtakes and B sides, isn't too lateto clue in the clueless to him and old partner Grant McLennan. Maybe Forster could hook up with Johnny Marr. Playboy, Apr. 1991
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