Speaking to The House That Soul Built, soul star Sy Smith discusses her thoughts on British soul, her career as a backing vocalist, and the creation of her monumental album Sometimes a Rose Will Grow in Concrete

–

If gifted with the budget to fly anyone to London for a solo gig, I would without hesitation choose Sy Smith. Put her on stage at the Hideaway – a magical combination of venue and artist – and pure soulful bliss would transpire. Her latest studio release Sometimes a Rose Will Grow in Concrete was a tour-de-force of an album thematically, sonically, and lyrically. The title track was chosen as The House That Soul Built‘s #1 soul song of 2018 in a countdown that included Judith Hill, Leon Bridges, and Abiah.

I meet Smith in the restaurant of the Royal Gardens hotel in Kensington, West London. Having landed just earlier that day, she is performing at the beautiful Cadogan Hall the day after with trumpeter and composer Chris Botti as part of a European and North American tour. She has been touring with Botti on and off since 2007 and expresses admiration for his ‘articulate’ approach to music. Despite such a hectic schedule, she greets me warmly and welcomes my suggestion for an open discussion about her career rather than rigid questions.

That said, I begin by asking Smith when she was last in London. After some hesitation she plucks out the year 2012, recalling a gig at the Jazz Café with hip-hop artist Zo! and neo-soul singer Carmen Rodgers.

Conceding that it has been far too long since her last solo gig here, Smith speaks passionately about British soul music. ‘Thank god for British soul! There’s an element here that definitely keeps a tradition of soul alive. There’s a very authentic connection here that I admire…. It’s not so much based on any commercial aspect. Soul artists here definitely aren’t necessarily in it for the mainstream fame [and] there’s something to be admired about that.’ She namechecks Omar (‘my favourite’), Beverley Knight, Incognito, and Tony Momrelle as artists she is particularly fond of. ‘Those are some bomb singers… [They] seem to have been holding it down for years.’

The UK, and London specifically, seems to be fond of Smith too. According to a Spotify analytics report shared by Smith on Facebook, London represents the top city for streaming her music. Back in the States, Smith boasts many accomplishments and a legacy perhaps unknown to her London following. Although not a label she has explicitly embraced herself, Smith is known as the ‘Queen of Indie/Underground Soul’. In the 1990s, she was instrumental in creating an underground soul/R&B milieu in Los Angeles – ‘a very pioneering scene’ in Smith’s own words – with a tight community of artists who supported each other at events. Alas, the scene is long over with many of its integral members either leaving music to start families or venturing into different career paths. Smith still stands triumphantly as a champion of that scene.

I pose the question as to whether the advent of social media has made the music landscape more egalitarian, particularly for soul artists like herself. ‘Egalitarian? Hmm. People are definitely able to get their music out…. But the performance chops of these cats is lacking…They can just make their music and put it out there… They don’t have to do the foot to the concrete work.’ Smith reminisces on the importance of compelling live audiences at her events in order to shift them CDs afterwards. She sees that kind of hustle as a necessary rite of passage for a musician.

I quiz Smith about a particularly interesting aspect of her career: her time as a backing vocalist. She has sung behind a huge roster of artists, including Whitney Houston, Chaka Khan, and Macy Gray. I bring up comparisons to other former backing singers who have since forged impressive solo careers, such as Judith Hill and Lisa Fischer – both of whom had successful shows in London’s premier venues recently. Surely there is something about singing backup that produces singers and artists of an incredible calibre, I float.

‘I agree to an extent. Every singer who is a supporting vocalist isn’t necessarily someone who wants to be in the forefront.’ However, Smith concedes that the backing vocalists who do strive for solo careers are often very good. The reason for this is a simple one: they learnt from the best. Reflecting on her own impressive credentials, Smith elaborates: ‘You can’t get much better than standing behind Whitney Houston for two years!’ She also references her time with Me’shell Ndegeocello, remarking on her ability to ‘craft a mood ’ and demand that the audience ‘either be with it, or leave.’

Although enjoying a successful career as a solo artist, Smith still enjoys performing backing vocals for other artists. Recently, she featured on John Legend’s Christmas album A Legendary Christmas (2018). ‘I love singing with other great singers,’ she states emphatically, being invited to the project by fellow vocalist and friend LaVance Colley.

Noting that Aretha Franklin’s music is playing in the restaurant as we speak (as if the hotel anticipated our arrival), I navigate the discussion onto the topic of Smith’s artistry. In a previous interview with SoulTracks, Smith discussed her musical influences extensively. She spoke effusively about Prince, Michael Jackson, Sting, and Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis (‘the best production team ever to have walked the earth’ as she described). Hence I decide to hone in specifically on Smith’s influences as a vocalist. On Sometimes A Rose Will Grow In Concrete, she showcases a range of different vocal colours from spiralling vocal runs, cooing, playful phrasing, and soaring Minnie Riperton highs. She is unsurprised by my comparison to Diana Ross when I note the lightness and sweetness to her tone.

‘When I was younger I didn’t listen to singers so much as I listened to horn players and horn sections specifically.’ Consequently, Smith was drawn to singers with a brassy vocal quality such as Chaka Khan. ‘But I knew when I was a kid I was never gonna sound like that. I knew what my body was capable of [and] it took me a really long time to find my voice.’

‘Lately, I’ve really started going back and listening to Patrice Rushen, Deniece Williams, early Minnie Riperton and those voices. These voices are always kind of left out and that’s unfair! We are naturally as a people drawn to the big heavy [voices]… There’s a place for the Deniece Williams and Minnie Ripertons too… I really wanted to embrace that part of me.’ She states firmly that the power of these vocalists is in their ability to ‘[draw] the listener in.’ It is a skill which Smith showcases in abundance on her latest album.

Indeed, having surveyed some of the main milestones in her career, the conversation inevitably settles on Sometimes a Rose Will Grow in Concrete. Not long after the title track was chosen as our #1 soul song of 2018, Smith posted on social media stating that the album almost never happened. ‘[This was the] first time that I had endeavoured to produce an entire project myself… That was frightening… [There was] a lot of self-doubt at play, a lot of head scratching; it was just such a long arduous process.’

The record was begun in 2015, with the title track the first in conception. First single ‘Now and Later’ and opening track ‘Perspective’ followed. I note that compared to Smith’s previous material – more squarely in R&B/neo-soul territory – Sometimes a Rose Will Grow in Concrete is distinctly jazzy in its texture. She links this in part to her work over the past eleven years touring with Chris Botti. ‘Sonically I knew this was going to be more of a piano-driven record,’ she comments, explaining that she wanted songs that she could play acoustically in a live set.

The title song is the masterpiece of the album. A celebration of Black resilience, the song has recently been chosen out of thousands of contenders to feature in the second season of Spike Lee’s TV series She’s Gotta Have It. After hearing the song’s opening notes, Lee asked for the song to be played again from the beginning. Smith explains that the song took on a secondary meaning after a producer she contacted rejected the opportunity to work on the song, failing to see Smith’s vision. ‘It was probably the best thing that happened. [In producing that song] I became the message. I lived it in the creation… I had to break myself out of my own concrete and bloom as a producer… I had to do that to bring that song to life.’

I ask Smith to explain the symbolism and poetry of the lyric in more detail. While I initially interpreted the concrete as a metaphor for institutional racism and oppression, Smith shows me another layer of meaning. She describes her vehement objection to media narratives which situate the success of Black individuals in the context of dysfunctional communities and broken homes – the implication being that the Black community is inevitably geared to disadvantage the individuals born into it. Smith could not be more convinced of the opposite. ‘Our community produces beautiful things because our community is beautiful… We’re not beautiful despite the concrete; we’re beautiful because of the concrete.’  

When I ask whether any specific socio-political events inspired the album, she responds: ‘Specifically, the re-emergence of the Black condition in America worsening and just the barrage of seeing Black bodies shot dead in the street and left there’. The Black condition is addressed more explicitly in the song ‘We Were Never Free’, a tune which juxtaposes a chirpy melody with dark, foreboding lyrics. The song was partly inspired by a news report on deforestation and how the simple chopping down of a tree has implications for how the wider forest communicates. As Smith explains so eloquently to me, she sees this as analogous to the historic displacement of the African-American diaspora from the motherland. ‘We were uprooted [and] brought to a completely foreign place to serve a purpose that had nothing to do with our own sustainability. There’s a lot of collective trauma.’

While hitting hard with its unapologetic politics, there is also a playfulness and sexiness to the record too. Smith cringes and covers her face with her hands when I refer to her songs and delivery as ‘sexy’. I am right though. For example, on opening track ‘Perspective’, Smith commands her lover to ‘feed me love till I’m obese with thee.’  First single ‘Now and Later’, Smith explains, is about ‘a woman embracing her own sensuality in a confident but flirty, fun way.’ She drops some brilliant zingers in the song, referring to her haughty lover as ‘cooler than the pillow’s other side.’ There is also a doo-wop version of the song recorded with Smith’s father, a man who inculcated Smith with his passion for music. She reflects on trips to New York with her father – sometimes during the school term – when they would go to concerts. ‘I loved and coveted those moments,’ she says with a flash of nostalgia in her eyes. The inclusion of her father on the record was her way of archiving him, something she had sought to do for some time when the opportunity was right artistically.

After her touring stint with Botti is over, Smith says she plans to focus on herself and on pushing her solo career forwards. ‘I want to place more songs in movies; I want to place more songs in TV shows.’ But she clarifies that she is not very needy, simply working towards sustaining herself fully with solo work. Like the British soul artists she admires, Smith’s work is rooted in a love for the genre. She is a true rose of contemporary soul.

Listen to Sy Smith’s music below!