I somehow got into The Smiths after my breakup. I found comfort in their sound — brooding, bleak, and strangely healing. Morrissey, insufferable as he is, felt like he understood me. My ex, on the other hand, dove headfirst into divorced dad rock. Nirvana, Alice In Chains, all that grayscale grunge. I stand by my pick. This album doesn’t uplift — it just makes me feel emotionally constipated.