Live Review: The Smile - A Heavy Dose of Covid Catharsis
On 29th and 30th January, The Smile – the side project of Radiohead’s Thom Yorke and Jonny Greenwood, joined by Sons of Kemet drummer Tom Skinner – performed three live performances at Magazine London. These shows were also live-streamed and directed by Paul Dugdale. These were their first live performances, having performed a soft opening on the Glastonbury Livestream, again directed by Dugdale. The impetus behind this project came from Yorke and Greenwood wanting to play together through the Covid period, and as a result, what was produced feels closer to a shortened and structured jam session as opposed to an album of songs; the focus is less on a solid song structure and more on dynamics, textures, and mood.
The songs are entrenched in the present moment, tied to the current cultural atmosphere, as opposed to the more timeless sound that Radiohead are often said to produce. In their performance, then, The Smile expresses the frustration, built-up energy, self-reflection, and quiet that the pandemic has created for so many. In doing so, they invite us to come together at the end of the dark tunnel and share in a moment of exorcism of this bizarre time. It is a moment that allows us to take a step back from our lives, and also to come together to reflect on them.
Yorke expressed this need for a congregation when introducing the song entitled The Same, saying: "while trapped in the house for two years […] I discovered that it’s quite possible us humans are quite similar", though we’ve been told that we’re in "little factions" that must "fight each other". The song orbits around the line, "please, we are all the same" whilst the music ebbs and flows with frustration. There is a counterbalance between bass, which plays on beats one and three, and the kick drum – which pre-empts the bassline, landing half a beat before. This creates a feeling of contained aggression, simultaneously remaining in a straight-forward rhythm, whilst attacking said rhythm. Greenwood’s piano riffs begin in time and steadily move into a lopsided pattern. We feel a complex dynamic between conformity and individuality, and that one’s need for such a thing is under attack. Indeed, throughout the live performance, music’s ability to bring about this dynamic within us is leant into in the live performance through the loudness of percussive elements and bass; they are felt just as much as they are heard in most songs, pulling the audiences’ bodies into the songs, as if the audience becomes part of it. The energy created from the growling bassline of You Will Never Work in Television Again, for example, or the sharp guitar picking by Greenwood in Thin Thing is tangible.
The venue itself accentuated the physical feeling of the songs. With a capacity of 1200 people, there was a closeness and comradery between audience and band members, furthered by the band performing in the round. The stage was practical, rugs on the floor, and each band member had a third of the circle for their respective instruments. Around this band-practice-like setting was a cage structure that served to surround the band with waves of light. This at times distanced the audience from the band, often during the more reflective songs, and at times of higher energy let them in. Everyone’s sense of space was therefore manipulated to suit each song.
The high point of the performance was the reassuring Free in the Knowledge that then transitioned into the most raging song, Hairdryer, which shouts at those leaders who just blow hot air, who in word and being ‘mea[n] nothing anyway’. Yorke’s voice here, and in other parts of the performance, is uncharacteristically fallible. It falters and thins when he promises in Free in the Knowledge that "this is just a bad moment"- we won’t "get caught" in it. In his typical way, Yorke’s lyrics speak heavily in clichés, yet they don’t feel cringing and unoriginal. This is the sign of someone who knows what he wants to say and accepts that the notions themselves are not original, but the way he experiences them are. Skinner’s drumming throughout these two songs shows off his ability to both create the correct ambience for the songs and at other times drive it to its destination. His jazz-focussed rhythms use subtlety instead of strength to lead us. This is typified in Hairdryer - where one might expect the louder parts of the drum to dominate in a distortion-heavy politically charged song is the high-hat that takes precedent. Greenwood’s ability to tie songs together also comes to the fore at this point. In the period of transition between the two songs, he plays his bass guitar with a bow and loops certain movements, creating a deep, shuddering cello sound. His basslines for Hairdryer then contrast with this wall of sound, becoming economical as Yorke’s guitar takes precedence. His performance seems inspired by his previous work with the likes of minimalist Steve Reich and his film soundtracks. Another highlight was the decision to perform a cover of Joe Jackson’s It’s Different For Girls’ as their final song of the evening; it was an unpretentious celebration of being together listening to music, and a moment for the band to relax and enjoy themselves.
Seeing as the performance is so entrenched in lived experience and feel, it may seem as though the Livestream will inevitably miss a fundamental aspect of the songs. Certainly, if it intended to replicate the live performance then it would fail. However, Dugdale accepts this fact, and instead uses the tools at his disposal to accomplish expression which the live performance cannot. Thus, he attempts to replace the feel and energy of a live performance with elements of film.
The two key aspects he uses to his advantage are that the camera controls the perspective of the viewer, and the different sound quality available to him and not to the venue. Though it will never be able to completely express the energy and feeling of the songs, it can better express the more subtle parts of the songs. In the live performance, for example, the intricacies of Greenwood’s guitar part in Speech Bubbles are missed, whereas in the Livestream they are the glue binding the song together. This is so evident that at the venue the song felt dislocated, but in the Livestream, it really stood out. In terms of using the camera’s perspective to his advantage, Dugdale uses the cage-like set design to better effect than is possible as an audience member. This is because the viewer of the Livestream can be taken onto the stage with the band, remain on the outside, or move from outside to inside the stage. For example, we are brought onto the stage for Skirting on the Surface, a song about the fragility of life, and communally confront the thought that ‘we need only click our fingers and we’ll disappear’ with the band members. Furthermore, for this song and others, the Livestream is in black and white, stripping back the visual elements of the performance to its bare necessities and thus allowing the music to greater fill the sensory space. Though it is incapable of fully portraying the depth of Yorke’s bassline and thus the full emotion of this particular song, the Livestream certainly provides a more than an adequate show for those incapable of being physically at the performance; it is certainly more than a recording of the live performance.
In both performance and Livestream, then, The Smile’s first outing is what is needed at this current juncture of the pandemic; it is a call to come back together and celebrate human connection, and it is a time for us to reflect on how this time has changed both the individual and the collective, for better and for worse. In this light, it could be said that the side-project has completed its artistic purpose and should be retired, allowed to remain purely in this moment.
The Smile have just announced a Summer 2022 UK and European tour. Tickets go on sale this Friday. For full dates and ticket details visit the bands website here.
May 29th - Roundhouse, London
May 30th - Roundhouse, London
June 1st - Usher Hall - Edinburgh
June 2nd - Albert Hall - Manchester