Brooklyn Owes The Charmer Under Me Lyrics

Okay, hear me out. I have a confession. It might be controversial. It definitely involves fuzzy guitars and existential angst.

I think Brooklyn owes The Smiths an apology. Specifically, for all the feelings "The Charmer Under Me" accidentally unleashed.

The Brooklyn Echo Chamber of Sadness

Let's be real. Brooklyn in the 2000s and early 2010s? Peak indie rock sensitivity. We were all wearing skinny jeans and brooding, weren't we?

And what band fueled that brooding? You guessed it. Well, maybe not directly. But... the echoes are undeniable.

Think about it. The ironic detachment. The clever lyrics about being misunderstood. The yearning for something...more.

The Charmer's Influence: Subtler Than You Think

"The Charmer Under Me" isn't a song about wanting to conquer New York. It's about internal struggle. But the message is applicable.

But that very sentiment, that kind of introspective self-pity, was practically the soundtrack of every Williamsburg apartment. Every dimly lit bar.

We were all charming ourselves, weren't we? Convincing ourselves we were deeper and more complex than everyone else. Thanks, Morrissey?

Guilty Pleasures and Unacknowledged Debts

I'm not saying every band in Brooklyn ripped off The Smiths. Obviously not. But their influence is pervasive.

It's like a secret ingredient. A pinch of sarcasm. A dash of world-weariness. Suddenly, you've got a whole generation writing songs about heartbreak and urban decay.

And okay, some of those songs were great! I’m not denying that. But shouldn't we at least acknowledge where that inspiration sprung from?

So, what does Brooklyn owe?

Maybe not money. Although, Johnny Marr probably deserves a royalty check or two. I am just being facetious.

I think Brooklyn owes The Smiths a collective, slightly embarrassed, "Thanks. And also, sorry."

Sorry for taking your beautifully crafted despair and turning it into a lifestyle. Sorry for making it the background music to brunch.

A Humble Proposal: A City-Wide Apology Concert

Picture this: A massive outdoor concert. Every Brooklyn band that ever strummed a melancholic chord. All playing Smiths covers. All day long.

We could call it "Sorry, Morrissey: A Brooklyn Apology." Or maybe something catchier.

It would be cathartic. It would be hilarious. And it would finally acknowledge the elephant in the room, or rather, the lily on the stage. Brooklyn should do this.

A Final Thought (and a call to action)

I know, I know. This is a silly argument. But humor me for a minute.

Next time you hear a song about longing and urban ennui, just remember "The Charmer Under Me." Consider the source.

And maybe, just maybe, whisper a little "thank you" (and a little "sorry") to the universe. And then, find your own unique sound. One that doesn't involve wearing black turtlenecks in July.

Let me know if you agree! Tweet me your unpopular music opinions. Let's start a revolution of musical honesty. Or at least, a mildly amusing Twitter thread.

"I am the son and the heir of nothing in particular" - The Smiths - summarizes all you need to know.