The Smiths – The Queen Is Dead (Puncture, 1986)

Listened to this, glass of wine in hand, swayed to the dulcet tones of Morrissey’s voice and the twittering tapestries of Marr’s guitar, snickered at the plethora of endearingly bad jokes, was impressed by the building textures, the flashes of bright, sparkling witty barbs at crumbling English sensibilities and institutions set to pristine classic sixties filigreed modpop chord progressions and wispy echoing fluttery exquisite OH SHUT UP SHUT UP JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU WHINING SELF-INDULGENT SELF-PITYING SELF-REFERENTIAL SELF-EXPLOITING SELF SELF SELF SELF (sound of vinyl flung aginst fire escape, bouncing down the street, and run over by passing skateboard).