To see him play live, you would hardly know that Jake Bugg is just a kid. Feet planted before the microphone, head bobbing up and down to the rhythm of his guitar strumming, he exudes the subdued confidence of a more seasoned performer. His voice – distinctively nasal, irresistibly British – carries strongly over the crowd, sounding impressively similar to his studio recordings. He strolls along the edge of the stage at intervals and glances casually about the room, as if to demonstrate just how easily this comes to him. 

That 1983 television performance was, for many Brits, their first introduction to the Smiths. All at once, that charming man managed to offend both straitlaced society and anti-society counterculture groups. Because Morrissey was neither: His Teddy Boy quiff juxtaposed his costume jewelry and woman’s blouse; his cockiness as a frontman was offset by the quaintness and faint homoeroticism of the words he sang. The Smiths were alternative and indie in the original sense of the word.