5 Nearly Perfect Patti Smith Songs That Deserve A New Generation Of Fans

Patti Smith deserves to be studied and heralded by every new generation of viscerally confessional rock poetesses. Whether it's Kate Bush, Tori Amos, St. Vincent, or Chappell Roan, all build on the foundation Smith provided. Her material deserves to be remembered, embraced, and studied just for that bedrock, but there's a wealth of stirring material there that stands on its own merits as well. Like Jim Morrison and Lou Reed before her, Patti Smith (and her titular band) saw the potential for the wild throes of rock music to serve as a vehicle for genuine poetry.

With that in mind, we wanted to delve into some of the best songs to ingratiate Smith to the new generation just discovering the transcendental power of rock music. Whether it's a soundtrack to the wild passion of young love or a soaring, triumphant testament to overthrowing oppressive power structures, there's something here for every young rock novice. 

"Because the Night" is the song inextricably linked to Patti Smith that shot to No. 13 on the Billboard Hot 100, making a hit out of her 1978 album "Easter." That alone makes it an easy introduction for a new generation of Smith disciples, but the track is a love ballad masterclass in its own right. It came about when Bruce Springsteen's recording engineer, Jimmy Iovine, suggested one of the singer/songwriter's incomplete tracks as a vehicle for Smith. Recognizing the song's potential, Smith wrote lyrics yearning for the deep emotional bonds that fuel a night of passionate lovemaking. The result was her highest-charting single to date.

Beyond a stellar hook and passionate vocal, the song offers deeper, poetic insights into the nature of love and desire than what is usually afforded in the vapid world of pop lyrics. "With love we sleep /
With doubt the vicious circle turns and burns," she declares in the song's ravenous bridge. It's a stark reminder that when love is burning hot, even waiting for a call from a partner is enough to tip us into fear and uncertainty.

For that reason the song should be handed down to the next generation: It cuts through the surface-level nonsense of so much pop. The next generation will, like their predecessors, grow out of bubblegum music, and when they do, they need deeper meditations on love and life for their soundtrack.  

By the release of 1997's "Peace and Noise," Patti Smith had been to hell and back. Her previous album, 1996's "Gone Again," marked her return to music after an extended hiatus that had included the deaths of her brother Todd, her former partner Robert Mapplethorpe, and her husband Fred Smith of MC5 fame. While the grueling personal strife of the period was well documented through song, "Peace and Noise" saw Smith focusing her attention outward once again. 

"1959" is Smith at her socially conscious best, weaving an archetypal vision of the dual nature of world affairs: Material prosperity and unbridled economic expansion in the first world and widespread subjugation in the third. The straight-ahead rock groove and jangly guitars give the whole thing a bare-bones 1960s protest anthem feel while still sitting comfortably alongside groups like R.E.M. in the then-modern alternative rock scene.

For newer listeners, it's another testament to the timelessness of Smith's work. For its own part, the song was nominated a Grammy for best female rock performance in 1998, proving that the elder stateswoman of punk rock could hold her own alongside newcomers like Fiona Apple and Meredith Brooks. 

Nirvana's "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was the dark, cynical, misanthropic battle cry of a generation of disaffected youth, and it also signaled one of the most dramatic cultural shifts in modern music history. In one fell swoop, the five-minute morbid tantrum eviscerated the dominance of hair metal and enshrined the 90's as the grunge decade. But while the song's mosh-pit-rocking riffs and screaming chorus made it one of the most covered songs of the '90s, there's an ominous undercurrent and cryptic lyrics that deserve consideration in their own right. That's where Smith's cover darkly shines.

Released as part of Smith's 2007 covers album "Twelve," her rendition eschews the stage-diving mania of the original for a somber, slow-burning meditation on the piece's deeper implications. It's not a novel approach — by that point Tori Amos had been performing solo piano renditions of the song since the early 90s — but Smith's version shines for its world-weariness and bluegrass folk arrangement. By 2007, Smith's voice was the dry, gravely rasp of a rock 'n' roll elder statesman, and it captures the song's undercurrent of pain and mania in a way that gets lost in the original's anthemic headbanging. 

That "old" quality is precisely why Smith's version deserves to be embraced by the current generation: "Smells Like Teen Spirit" has been the quintessential teenage angst anthem for the last 35 years, and each new batch of teens matures as the years go by. With Smith's cover, the song matures right along with them. 

"Till Victory," the opener to 1978's "Easter" is full of righteous fury and falls squarely into the punk rock ethos: Big, distorted guitars that retain a chordal strumming feel without the razor-sharp precision of heavy metal, lyrics extolling the virtues of underdog conquest, and a defiant, confrontational vocal imbued with the collective rage of the downtrodden. "Fate unwinds and if we die, souls arise," Smith declares with her trademark blend of bitter rage and transcendent glory. 

The song is an excellent affirmation that, despite all her literary aspirations, Smith is a punk rocker at heart. The song sits alongside the Clash and the Sex Pistols in terms of hard-driving fury, but it also underscores the significance of why Smith presented herself not only as a solo artist but also as the singer of a group. The band's warm, organic cohesion is readily apparent throughout the track, with drummer Jay Dee Daugherty laying down a militaristic opening salvo that gives way to a deeply satisfying straight-ahead rock beat. The larger ensemble locks in with a tight groove that reflects a greater cohesion than normally found in punk bands. 

That solid hard rock opening is the kind of thing that appeals to any generation of mosh pit enthusiasts. Combine that with Smith's always illustrative lyrics and you have a track that will resonate with new fans from every corner of the rock spectrum. 

The cover art of 1975's "Horses" is a penetrating photograph borne out of Patti Smith's relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe. The arresting black and white image shows Smith coolly but defiantly staring down at the viewer, the upward-facing angle adding to the intimidating undertones. It's a subtle but effective move, one that reflects Smith's awareness of the majestic gravitas of the rock star personae. That understanding is reflected in "Break It Up," an ode to the late Doors frontman Jim Morrison, who was a source of particular fascination for Smith. 

Lyrically, the piece recounts an incident that haunted Morrison throughout his life. As a small child, he was traveling with his family when they came upon an auto accident that he believed to have killed numerous Native Americans. Subsequent investigations of the event revealed that Morrison's recollections were distorted: There had been only one death, and the injured parties had been Latino, not Native American. Nevertheless, the event profoundly impacted him to the point that he believed a "Native American" ghost had entered his body.

With "Break It Up," Smith dramatizes Morrison's memory from the perspective of the detached spirit possessing him. Ethereal piano is punctuated by escalating drums and guitars as her mysterious vocal takes on a hauntingly majestic tone. The depiction may not be historically accurate, but the story of rock music, like any artform, is as much about impressions as facts. For a new generation discovering the work of both artists, it's a lesson in the blending of fact and fantasy that emerges in rock poetry.