"Stay With Me" (currently making its way up the U.S. In the Lonely Hour is meant to be Smith's love letter to a man who never returned his feelings it's an affecting idea, and Smith's inexperience-he hasn't yet been in a relationship-should provide for a fascinating level of sincerity, but too often it feels like he's being held back by an oppressive sense of musical conservatism. While Smith doesn't tap into that sound as directly, the emotional impact of the syrupy strings, by-the-book lyrics about heartbreak, and trite chord progressions is the same. With undeniable pipes weighed down by generic songcraft, Smith makes me think of Duffy, a blue-eyed soul singer recruited in the wake of Amy Winehouse to capitalize on the sudden hunger for retro soul music.
But the main problem with In the Lonely Hour-and all of Smith's music up to this point-is exactly the opposite: it feels like the record company has groomed him within an inch of his life. "I do it for the love," he insists on the chorus, and "You say, 'Could you write a song for me?'/ I say, 'I'm sorry I won't do that happily'" in the verse. More importantly, however, he details his signing to the record label and his apparent unwillingness to kowtow to record label demands, attempting to set himself apart as a freethinker. (“I remember hearing ‘Latch’ and thinking, ‘No person can go through that many vocal ranges at one time without going through a computer,’ ” said one of his A&R reps in a recent feature.) That talent is central to "Money on My Mind", an itchy-feet drum'n'bass number with a chorus so high-pitched you might mistake Smith for a bird. So why all the hubbub? If you've heard "Latch", you already know about that voice: Sam Smith possesses one hell of a set of pipes, able to go from a commanding lower register to an inhumanly high squawk in record time.
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