Sam Smith’s first album without a hit is contending to be the best of their career. For the first time, none of the preview tracks from a new project have even broken into the British Top 100. This aligns with the sense that, in these bluesy, R&B, and gospel ballads, they have found the right match for their voice.
Lately, Sam Smith has relocated to New York and found love with Christian Cowan, with whom they are engaged. In “Hazel Eyes” we hear Smith at ease, comfortable, in a state of absolute serenity, which has led them to write love declarations as firm as “Love Is a Stillness” — a Valentine’s hymn — the title track “Hazel Eyes,” or “My Guy,” which we can understand as the gay version of the Temptations’ classic “My Girl,” a piece they recall at times.
Also reminiscent of Lou Reed or Tracy Chapman’s exquisite ballad “Baby Can I Hold You,” “My Guy” is one of those timeless compositions that a television performance or a talent show could eventually elevate. It could happen at any moment in the future.
Part of the significance of “Hazel Eyes” is precisely to offer an LGBTQ+ perspective on retro musical styles that until now carried only heterosexual lyrics. “I am the queen of your kingdom” is a line from “Thief,” and even “Oh Mother,” which feels like a familiar track in which Smith desperately seeks protection after uncovering a betrayal, carries a queer reading. The contribution comes from Dante’s backing vocals, a friend who acted as a sort of “mother” in Smith’s life as a queer person when they were around twenty. The song could have been written by Florence + the Machine, were it not for the fact that, as we’ve noted, it’s important for pop culture to reveal dissident prisms.
Who has collaborated on the album, in a very meaningful way, is Leslie Feist. Her credits aren’t limited to the most visible feature on “Moondance,” which recalls her classic “Limit to Your Love,” but she also appears — like Moses Sumney — on “My Guy.” And it makes sense because, like Smith, Feist chose to step back from fame to retreat into more intimate sounds. Otherwise, Smith wrote the album largely with Simon Aldred (who has worked with Avicii and Liam Gallagher), leaving the production mainly in the hands of David Odlum (Gemma Hayes, deus).
Far from the sound of “Unholy” and its numerous controversies, this era of Sam Smith runs the risk of going unnoticed by the general public. A single, more heartbreak-stricken ballad might have helped. Yet there is also a joy in sensing a new era of security and maturity, with a tremendous, powerful voice. Smith even manages to keep the album from turning saccharine, balancing the sweeter side (the track “Constant Companion” seems a grower) with a darker one (“Everlasting Love” with its exquisite sax, the jealous “When He’s Gone”).
