Let’s be real for a second. If you’re even looking into The Smiths Complete album collection, you’ve probably already spent a significant portion of your life defending Morrissey’s vocals or trying to figure out how Johnny Marr made a Rickenbacker sound like a literal waterfall. It’s a rite of passage. But when Rhino Records dropped this massive box set, it wasn’t just another cash grab. It was a weird, sprawling, and slightly intimidating attempt to tether one of the most chaotic legacies in British indie rock into one place.
People get confused about what this actually is. Is it a "best of"? No. Is it just the studio albums? Not really. It’s everything. Sorta.
We’re talking about the four original studio albums, the three essential compilations—Hatful of Hollow, The World Won't Listen, and Louder Than Bombs—and the posthumous live record, Rank. It’s a mountain of music. But here’s the kicker: buying it isn't just about owning the songs. You probably already have them on a scratched CD or a dusty Spotify playlist. The real conversation around the The Smiths Complete collection is about the remastering process handled by Johnny Marr himself.
Why Johnny Marr’s Remastering Changes Everything
For years, the digital versions of The Queen Is Dead or Meat Is Murder sounded... thin. Tinny. They lacked the "thump" that Andy Rourke (one of the most underrated bassists to ever walk the earth) actually brought to the recording sessions.
When Marr went back into the studio for this project, he wasn't trying to "fix" the songs. He was trying to make them sound like they did in his head in 1984. He worked with Frank Arkwright at Abbey Road Studios, and they went back to the original tape sources. This matters because the previous CD transfers from the late 80s and early 90s were notoriously lackluster. They were flat.
Honestly, the difference is staggering on a decent pair of headphones.
Take a track like "The Headmaster Ritual." In the original CD pressings, the guitars felt like they were fighting for space. In the The Smiths Complete versions, you can hear the separation. You hear the chime. You hear the grit in the low end. It’s punchier. It’s louder, yes, but it’s not "brickwalled" like those terrible mid-2000s remasters that destroyed all the dynamic range. It breathes.
The Problem With "Complete" Collections
Can we talk about the word "complete" for a minute? It’s a bit of a lie.
While this set gives you the core discography, The Smiths were the kings of the B-side and the obscure 7-inch edit. If you are a true obsessive, you’ll notice that some stray tracks or specific single versions might feel missing depending on which version of the box set you grab (the vinyl, the CD, or the digital). But for 99% of humanity, this is the definitive archive.
It captures that insane four-year run. Think about that. From 1983 to 1987, they changed everything. Then they exploded.
The Four Pillars: The Studio Albums
If you’re diving into the The Smiths Complete experience, you have to look at the evolution. Most bands take a decade to find their sound. These guys found it in a basement in Manchester and then perfected it before they were old enough to rent a car.
- The Smiths (1984): The debut. It’s murky. It’s raw. Producer John Porter had a hell of a time trying to capture their live energy. Some fans still think it sounds too "polite," but the remaster helps give "Still Ill" and "Hand in Glove" the teeth they deserve.
- Meat Is Murder (1985): This is where they got political and weird. It’s the only Smiths album to hit Number 1 in the UK. The title track still makes people uncomfortable at dinner parties, which I think is exactly what Morrissey intended.
- The Queen Is Dead (1986): The masterpiece. Period. If you don't think "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" is one of the greatest songs ever written, we might not be able to be friends. This album is the centerpiece of the box set. It’s the reason people still wear the shirts.
- Strangeways, Here We Come (1987): The breakup album. They were falling apart while recording it, yet it’s Marr’s favorite. It’s lush. It’s got "Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me," which is basically the sonic equivalent of a Victorian ghost story.
The box set treats these four like royalty. The artwork is replicated faithfully—no weird modern borders or "Remastered" stickers printed directly onto the sleeves. It feels authentic.
The Compilations: Where the Real Magic Lives
Here is a hot take: The Smiths were actually better at compilations than they were at albums.
Because they released singles so frequently—singles that often didn't appear on the LPs—the compilations are mandatory listening. Hatful of Hollow is a prime example. It features BBC Radio 1 sessions of songs from the debut album, and many fans (myself included) think these versions are better. They’re faster. They’re more aggressive.
Then you have Louder Than Bombs. For American fans, this was the gateway drug. It’s 24 tracks of pure gold. Including it in the The Smiths Complete set was the only way to make it truly "complete." You get "Shoplifters of the World Unite," "Sheila Take a Bow," and "Panic."
Imagine being a band so good that "Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want" is just a B-side. It’s ridiculous. It’s actually offensive to other musicians.
The Vinyl vs. CD Debate
If you’re looking to buy this, you have a choice. The vinyl box set is a beast. It’s heavy, it’s beautiful, and it’s expensive. But if you’re a collector, it’s the only way to go. The 180-gram pressings are remarkably quiet (meaning no surface noise), and having that iconic cover art in a 12x12 format is basically like owning a mini-museum of 80s British culture.
The CD version is more practical, obviously. It comes in a flip-top box with the discs in mini-jackets. It’s cute. It’s functional. But does it feel "legendary"? Maybe not as much.
Actually, there’s a third option: the digital high-res files. If you really want to hear what Marr did with the tapes, the 24-bit versions are the closest you’ll get to standing in the room at Abbey Road.
Is Anything Missing?
Technically, yes. The "Complete" moniker has been debated by collectors since the set launched. There are certain "Sandie Shaw" versions of tracks and rare Troy Tate outtakes that aren't here.
But let’s be honest. Unless you are planning on writing a 500-page thesis on the rhythmic variations of Mike Joyce's drumming, you won't care. What's here is the soul of the band.
One thing that is included which often gets overlooked is Rank. It’s a live album recorded at the National Ballroom in Kilburn. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s the sound of a band that knows they’re about to end. Hearing the crowd scream during "The Queen Is Dead" gives me chills every single time. It’s a vital piece of the puzzle.
The Cultural Weight of the Smiths Today
It’s hard to talk about The Smiths without talking about the "Morrissey problem."
In recent years, the frontman’s public comments have made being a Smiths fan... complicated. Some people have burned their records. Others try to separate the art from the artist.
But when you listen to the The Smiths Complete collection, you realize that the band wasn't just Morrissey. It was the chemistry between four specific guys from Manchester. It was Marr’s layered guitars, Rourke’s melodic basslines, and Joyce’s steady, driving beat. You can’t cancel a feeling, and the feeling this music creates—that specific blend of loneliness and arrogance—is still unmatched.
The Smiths represented the "outsider." They made it okay to be miserable, as long as you were witty about it. That hasn't gone away. If anything, in our hyper-connected, deeply anxious modern world, a song like "How Soon Is Now?" feels more relevant than it did in 1984.
How to Experience This Collection Properly
If you’ve just grabbed the set or you’re streaming the remastered discography, don't just shuffle it. That’s a mistake. The Smiths were an "era" band.
- Start with Hatful of Hollow. Skip the first studio album for a second. Listen to the BBC sessions. It’s the rawest version of their identity.
- Read the liner notes. If you have the physical box, look at the credits. Look at the artwork. Morrissey chose every single cover image himself, usually featuring his idols like Alain Delon or Shelagh Delaney. It’s part of the story.
- Listen for the bass. Seriously. Turn up the low end. Andy Rourke’s work on "Barbarism Begins at Home" is a masterclass in funk-influenced indie rock that most people completely miss because they’re listening to the lyrics.
- Watch the "The Queen Is Dead" short film. If you can find it, Derek Jarman’s filmic accompaniment to the album tracks adds a whole other layer of British gloom and beauty to the music.
The The Smiths Complete collection isn't just a product. It’s a closed loop. They came, they changed the world, and they left. They never reunited. They never made a "bad" late-career album. They stayed perfect, frozen in time, and this box set is the definitive icy tomb for that perfection.
Whether you're a lifelong fan or a teenager who just discovered "This Charming Man" on a movie soundtrack, this is the gold standard. It’s loud, it’s proud, and it’s exactly how Johnny Marr wanted you to hear it.
Next Step: Check your local independent record store for the 2011 Rhino pressings specifically, as these contain the Marr-approved masters discussed above; if you're buying digital, ensure the tracks are labeled as the 2011 Remasters to avoid the flatter 80s versions.