This Charming Man

The guitar arrives immediately, a bright, intricate riff that practically dances — Marr picking out a pattern so melodically generous it sounds almost like two guitars playing at once. The rhythm is brisk and light, almost skippy, carrying the song forward with an energy that feels completely at odds with the lyric's actual situation, which involves a young man being approached by an older, presumably wealthy suitor and finding himself tempted despite his moral reservations. That tension between the sun-drenched sound and the complicated subtext is what makes the song so alive. Morrissey's voice swoops through the verses with theatrical relish, leaning into the operatic possibilities of vowels, making desire and ambivalence sound equally glamorous. The production is clean and immediate, no studio clutter — just the guitars, bass, drums, and voice arranged with real precision. The song signaled, in 1983, that British guitar music could be literate and queer and witty all at once, and it arrived into a pop landscape that needed all three. It belongs to independent record stores, to sixth-form students discovering that music could have an inner life. You reach for it on a bright autumn morning when you want something smart and propulsive, something that rewards attention while also just feeling good to move through.