It is one of the most famous lines in indie rock history. It's a lyric that launched a thousand tattoos. When Morrissey sang "And now I know how Joan of Arc felt" on The Smiths' 1986 masterpiece The Queen Is Dead, he wasn't just being dramatic for the sake of it. Well, okay, maybe a little. But there’s a massive amount of cultural weight behind that single sentence. It’s the centerpiece of "Bigmouth Strikes Again," a song that basically defines the "miserablist" aesthetic that turned a four-piece band from Manchester into a global religion for the lonely.
Why did he say it?
To understand why a 20-something vegan from Northern England compared himself to a 15th-century French martyr being burned at the stake, you have to look at the pressure cooker that was The Smiths in the mid-80s. Morrissey was under fire. The press was starting to turn. People were calling him arrogant. They were tired of his celibacy shtick. So, naturally, he compared a bad press cycle to being roasted alive by the English.
It’s hilarious. It’s tragic. It’s pure Morrissey.
The Burning Girl: Who was the real Joan?
Before we get into the 80s angst, we have to talk about the teenager in the armor. Joan of Arc—Jeanne d'Arc—didn't start out as a saint. She was a peasant girl who claimed she heard the voices of saints telling her to drive the English out of France. She was about 18 when she led the French army to victory at Orléans. Think about that. Most 18-year-olds can barely manage a shift at Starbucks without a mental breakdown, and she was out-maneuvering seasoned generals.
Then things went south. She was captured by the Burgundians, sold to the English, and put on trial for heresy. The "voices" were her undoing. The court wanted to prove she was a witch or a liar. On May 30, 1431, they tied her to a tall pillar in the Vieux-Marché in Rouen. They lit the wood.
The detail Morrissey zooms in on is the "melted" hearing aid. In the song, he sings: "As the flames rose to her Roman nose / And her hearing aid started to melt." Obviously, Joan didn't have a hearing aid. This is a callback to Morrissey's own stage persona. In the early days of The Smiths, he frequently wore a National Health Service (NHS) hearing aid as a fashion statement, a nod to the marginalized and the "broken" people he championed. By placing his own accessory on the body of a martyr, he was merging his identity with hers.
He was saying his public crucifixion was just as painful.
📖 Related: Howie Mandel Cupcake Picture: What Really Happened With That Viral Post
Why the Lyric Stuck: The Power of Hyperbole
We’ve all felt it. That moment where you say something stupid at a party and you feel like the entire world is judging you. You feel exposed. You feel hunted. That’s the emotional core of "Bigmouth Strikes Again."
The song is actually an apology—sort of. Morrissey is admitting he "had no right to take her place to the gates of greed." He knows he messed up. But in typical fashion, the apology is so wrapped in self-pity that it becomes a grander statement about the burden of fame.
Music critic Simon Reynolds once noted that Morrissey’s genius lay in his ability to make the mundane feel mythological. Using the phrase "and now I know how Joan of Arc felt" elevates a standard "celebrity complains about the media" track into a timeless anthem about being misunderstood. It’s the ultimate defense mechanism: You’re not just criticizing my ego; you’re burning a saint.
The Smiths and the Art of the Martyr
The 1980s music scene in the UK was full of hairspray and synth-pop. The Smiths were the antithesis of that. They were earthy, jangling, and obsessed with the past. Johnny Marr’s Rickenbacker guitar work on this track is frantic. It sounds like fire. It sounds like someone running away from a crowd with pitchforks.
If you listen closely to the backing vocals, you’ll hear a high-pitched, chipmunk-like voice. That’s actually Morrissey’s voice sped up. He’s credited on the sleeve as "Ann Coates," a pun on Ancoats, a district in Manchester. This weird, ghostly voice shadows him throughout the song, adding to the feeling of a fractured psyche.
He wasn't just singing about Joan. He was singing about the version of himself that the public had created—the "Bigmouth."
Fact-Checking the Iconography
Let's get real for a second. The comparison is objectively insane. Joan of Arc was a political prisoner who died a horrific death for her beliefs. Morrissey was a rock star who got some mean reviews in NME.
👉 See also: Austin & Ally Maddie Ziegler Episode: What Really Happened in Homework & Hidden Talents
But that’s the point.
The lyric works because it captures the subjective intensity of shame. When you are the subject of public ridicule, the brain processes that social rejection in the same areas it processes physical pain. Neuroscientists at the University of Michigan found that the brain doesn't distinguish much between a "broken heart" and a "broken arm" in terms of neural activity.
So, in a literal sense, Morrissey was wrong. In an emotional sense? He was right on the money.
Real Sources on Joan’s Trial
If you look at the actual transcripts of Joan’s trial—which still exist, by the way—she was remarkably defiant. When asked if she was in a state of grace, she famously replied, "If I am not, may God put me there; and if I am, may God so keep me."
Morrissey’s defiance was different. It was steeped in irony. He didn't want to be a soldier; he wanted to be a victim who was ultimately proven right. History did prove him right in terms of his musical legacy, though his modern-day reputation is... complicated.
Cultural Impact: From 1986 to Today
You see this line everywhere now. It’s on tote bags. It’s the title of essays about cancel culture. It has become a shorthand for anyone who feels they are being unfairly targeted by a group.
But there’s a danger in the "Joan of Arc" complex. When we lean too hard into the "persecuted martyr" narrative, we lose the ability to self-reflect. In the song, Morrissey eventually admits he’s a "bigmouth." He knows his tongue is the problem. Most people who quote the line today forget the self-deprecating part. They just want the fire and the glory.
✨ Don't miss: Kiss My Eyes and Lay Me to Sleep: The Dark Folklore of a Viral Lullaby
How to use the "Joan" mindset (the healthy way)
Honestly, sometimes you do need a bit of that dramatic energy to get through a tough week. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by criticism or if you feel like your "voices" (your intuition) are being ignored, leaning into the archetype isn't the worst thing.
- Own your mistakes: The song starts with an admission of guilt. Don't skip that part.
- Acknowledge the hyperbole: You aren't actually being burned at the stake. Perspective is a hell of a drug.
- Find your "Johnny Marr": The only reason Morrissey’s drama worked was because he had a genius musician providing the structure. Surround yourself with people who ground your chaos.
The Technical Side of the Song
If you're a gear-head or a music student, "Bigmouth Strikes Again" is a masterclass in layered acoustics. Johnny Marr used a 12-string guitar to get that shimmering, aggressive sound. He wasn't trying to sound like a 15th-century battle; he was trying to sound like The Byrds on speed.
The tempo is roughly 136 BPM. It’s fast. It’s nervous. It mirrors the heartbeat of someone who just realized they said something they shouldn't have.
There is no "ultimate conclusion" to why this lyric remains so potent. It just is. It captures the intersection of history, religion, and pop-star narcissism in a way no one else has managed to do since.
Actionable Steps for the Misunderstood
If you find yourself identifying with the feeling of being a "Bigmouth" or a martyr, here is how to handle the heat without actually melting:
- Audit your "Bigmouth" moments. Are you being persecuted for your truths, or are you just being a jerk? There's a fine line. Joan died for a cause; Morrissey was complaining about his reputation. Know which one you are doing.
- Use the "Hearing Aid" strategy. Morrissey used a physical object to symbolize his internal struggle. Find a creative outlet—writing, art, even just a specific way of dressing—that externalizes your feelings. It makes them easier to manage.
- Listen to the full album. Don't just cherry-pick the lyrics. The Queen Is Dead is a cohesive narrative about a man struggling with the weight of British identity. Context is everything.
- Read the Trial of Joan of Arc. If you really want to know how she felt, go to the source. The Condemnation Records are available in English translation. It’s some of the most intense reading you’ll ever do. It puts your Twitter beef in perspective real fast.
The legacy of "And now I know how Joan of Arc felt" isn't about the flames. It's about the feeling of being alone in your convictions. Whether you're a saint in armor or a singer in a hearing aid, the world is always going to try to quiet the voices it doesn't understand. The trick is to keep singing anyway.