The Smiths turned British malaise into high art on their third album, where Morrissey's withering social commentary meets Johnny Marr's most ambitious arrangements. From the title track's orchestral chaos to the swooning martyrdom of There Is a Light That Never Goes Out, it captures mid-80s Britain as both elegy and indictment.

What sounds like bedroom miserabilism reveals itself as razor-sharp class consciousness, each jangly guitar line undercutting Thatcher-era triumphalism. The blueprint for British indie's next two decades, recorded in six months that changed everything.