By: Tyrese Alleyne- Davis
Rock has long been a staple genre, evolving through countless subgenres and cultural revolutions—heavy metal, post-punk, pop-punk, indie punk, and more.
Within this space, numerous artists have pushed the culture forward or shifted it in bold new directions. Yet, perhaps no band in the rock or indie scene had a shorter run—and one more deeply cemented in the hearts of British and global music fans—than The Smiths.
The 1980s UK Indie Scene
The mid-1980s UK indie scene was a world apart from the glossy pop dominating mainstream charts. Rooted in the DIY ethics of punk, it thrived in small venues, on independent labels, and in the pages of music magazines like NME and Melody Maker.
The scene attracted those who didn’t quite fit into the cultural mainstream: teenagers in thrift-store jackets, musicians in mismatched patterns, and writers who preferred sharp wit over shallow glamour.
Many fans and artists in rock and rock-related genres of this era were considered misfits and outcasts—whether because of their unconventional fashion, niche social circles, or a refusal to conform to the commercialized image of pop stardom.
In that environment, The Smiths stood out not only for their sound, but for the way they gave voice to this outsider identity, offering anthems for people who had long felt invisible.
The Smiths Create Impact
Active from 1982 to 1987, The Smiths had one of the most impactful five-year runs in music history. With vocalist Morrissey, guitarist Johnny Marr, bassist Andy Rourke, and drummer Mike Joyce, they crafted anthems like “Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now,” “This Charming Man,” and “How Soon Is Now?”
These songs that still reverberate through indie playlists, soundtracks, and the emotional lives of their listeners decades later. In just half a decade, they created a legacy that bands with twice their lifespan have struggled to match.
“There Is a Light That Never Goes Out”
A standout track in their catalog—and the ninth track on their 1986 album The Queen Is Dead—is “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out.” Written by Marr and Morrissey, the song is as much an emotional document as it is a piece of music, exploring longing, the search for connection, and the fragile will to keep living. Morrissey’s delicate, at times aching, delivery—especially in sustained moments—often feels like a cry for help woven into the shimmer of Marr’s guitar arrangements.
“Take me out tonight
Where there’s music and there’s people
And they’re young and alive”
These opening lines convey a deep desire to escape life’s monotony, with the driver in the song embodying a temporary salvation. The request is simple yet loaded—it’s not about a destination, but the act of being somewhere, anywhere, that isn’t steeped in the sameness of routine.
Temporary Relief From Pressue
For those battling depression, even fleeting connection can feel like a lifeline. In that moment, it’s enough to be near someone who offers relief, however temporary, from the weight pressing in.
“Driving in your car
I never, never want to go home
Because I haven’t got one anymore”
This could be taken literally—Morrissey grew up in a working-class Irish family in Manchester and, at one point, lived off unemployment benefits—or figuratively, as a longing for a sense of spiritual or artistic home. For many, “home” can be a site of alienation rather than comfort, a place that fails to reflect one’s identity or aspirations.
Early Days Of Indie-Alt Rock
It’s worth noting that in the early days of the indie and alternative rock scenes, The Smiths were part of, many musicians and fans of rock-adjacent genres were often considered misfits and outcasts—by choice or by circumstance.
Their differences in fashion, social circles, creative expression, and even their worldview often set them apart from mainstream culture. These traits, while celebrated within their own communities, frequently became reasons for exclusion elsewhere.
For someone like Morrissey, whose aesthetic and lyrical sensibilities were unapologetically distinct, that feeling of being an outsider wasn’t just an artistic posture—it was a lived reality.
Creating Freedom With No Expectations
In the car, however, there’s freedom: no set expectations, no lingering sense of rejection. It becomes a vessel for liberation, a moving cocoon that offers the possibility of belonging in a world that often withholds it.
“Oh please, don’t drop me home
Because it’s not my home, it’s their home
And I’m welcome no more”
This plea to the driver is steeped in both urgency and vulnerability. It is a desperate grasp at autonomy, a refusal to return to a space that triggers despair. It captures the tension between momentary escape and the looming reality of what waits at the end of the ride. In this suspended moment, the journey is the only reality worth acknowledging.
The song’s most haunting moment comes in these lines:
“And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die”
This isn’t just poetic imagery—it’s morbidly specific. Modern London double-decker buses, such as the New Routemaster, have a maximum gross vehicle weight (GVW) of around 18 tonnes (approximately 19.8 U.S. tons). The lyric’s specificity—dying in a violent collision with a bus of such enormous weight—underscores the depth of desperation and romantic fatalism Morrissey expresses.
The Force Of Life
It’s not a vague death fantasy; it’s an invocation of obliteration by something vast, symbolizing both release from suffering and the overwhelming, immovable forces life can impose.
The choice of a double-decker bus—so iconic to British urban life—also roots the song in a distinctly English landscape. It’s a reminder that for all its emotional universality, “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” is born from a particular cultural and physical setting.
Morrissey’s Candid Reflections On Depression
This lyric resonates even more powerfully when paired with Morrissey’s candid reflections on depression from his 2015 Billboard interview with Larry King—reported by Colin Stutz.
In that conversation, Morrissey likened his depression to a “black dog,” stating, “There is no cure and I think that it’s part of being a sensitive, open human.” When asked if he’d ever thought about harming himself, he replied:
“It crosses everybody’s mind… even people who mistakenly assume that they’re happy. They think of just disappearing and having enough… ‘No more of this silliness.’ And it’s admirable.”
Surrendering To Fate
While Morrissey said he personally would never kill himself, describing suicide as “admirable” adds a chilling subtext to the bus collision lyric. Death here isn’t just escape—it’s a surrender to fate when shared with someone who gives life meaning, however fleetingly.
The song continues into one more vivid image:
“And if a ten tonne truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure, the privilege is mine”
Again, Morrissey’s specificity is striking. Like the bus, the truck becomes an emblem of something immense and unstoppable—death framed not in fear, but in devotion. The weight, both literal and metaphorical, is crushing; yet in Morrissey’s delivery, it becomes a strangely tender offering.
From here, the song shifts:
“But then a strange fear gripped me
And I just couldn’t ask
Take me out tonight
Oh take me anywhere
I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care”
The “strange fear” introduces hesitation into the otherwise bold declarations. Even in longing, vulnerability creates silence.
Remaining In Motion
For many living with depression or loneliness, this inability to voice needs aloud can be as constricting as the circumstances they wish to escape. The refrain’s repetition—insisting that it doesn’t matter where they go—only underscores the desperation to remain in motion.
The return of the car imagery—“Driving in your car / I never, never want to go home / Because I haven’t got one”—cements the theme of transience. The car is not just transport; it is anonymity, a moving sanctuary, a place where no one can pin you down. It’s the opposite of home—rootlessness not as loss, but as possibility.
As the track closes, Morrissey repeats the refrain:
“There is a light and it never goes out”
Looped over and over, it becomes more than a closing statement—it is a mantra, an incantation meant to be believed even when belief is difficult.
The light he refers to could be love, connection, a fleeting moment of joy, or the stubborn spark that persists even when the surrounding world feels suffocatingly dark. Its meaning is intentionally open, giving listeners the freedom to find themselves in it.
Romance, Morbidity, And The Indie Rock Lament
Ultimately, “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” thrives in its contradictions. It is a love song and a lament, a romantic fantasy wrapped in morbidity, and an anthem to the moments of connection that make life bearable. It also serves as an acknowledgment of the void that surrounds those moments, the inevitability that joy exists side by side with despair.
The specificity of a double-decker bus weighing nearly 20 tons crashing into two people crystallizes the song’s gravity: it is both devastating and strangely beautiful, exactly the kind of duality that defined The Smiths.
Capturing The Voice To Be Seen & Valued
But, its resonance goes further. The song captures the human need to be seen and valued, even if only fleetingly, and to experience moments so profound they could stand as the final chapter of a life. Morrissey’s imagery turns mortality into something shared, almost ceremonial, in which the presence of another person transforms the idea of death from lonely inevitability into a moment of ultimate intimacy.
The refrain assures us that there is “a light” not because life is always radiant, but because the moments when light does break through can sustain us through long stretches of shadow. In the architecture of indie rock, this song stands as one of its most enduring monuments—proof that vulnerability, honesty, and even morbidity can coexist with melody to create something timeless.
That is why, decades later, the light of this song has indeed never gone out.
