Review: Smut – How the Light Felt

Smut
How the Light Felt

Bayonet Records
Street: 11.11
Smut = Slow Pulp + Mazzy Star + Snail Mail

How the Light Felt, Chicago-based band Smut’s new album, is the indie alternative aesthetic of my generation’s iconic flicks like The Princess Diaries, The Lizzie McGuire Movie and 10 Things I Hate About You. Capturing the young angst which strikes us all at some point in our lives, this band highlights that distinct feeling of self-doubt underlined by minor bouts of despair. From that place of uncertainty, Smut holds you gently with their music, offering caressing laments and emotive spunk. How the Light Felt is an album which provides a space for empathy toward yourself—like for Mia, Lizzie and Kat, life gets crazy and overwhelming at times, but we’re here for the journey.

Released five years after their debut album—2017’s End of Sam-soon—How the Light Felt showcases some of the major lineup and genre changes Smut has incurred in that time, now a self-proclaimed amalgamation of late-’90s and early-2000s sensibilities. Following the footsteps of Sonic Youth, Slowdive and my bloody valentine, Smut incorporates the underground tradition of these sonic pioneers. 

Also in their five-year gap, the confidence of vocalist Tay Roebuck has clearly developed, and she’s joined by the talents of her current four band members: guitarist Andrew Min, bassist and synthist Bell Cenower, guitarist and synthist Sam Ruschman and drummer Aidan O’Connor. Aside from a three-track EP titled Power Fantasy, Smut has kept fans waiting for How the Light Felt, but it’s well worth the wait. 

Smut achieves a tasteful variety in this project, an often-difficult feat for those seeking a ’90s-inspired sound. While this style of execution may cause the songs to blur together into one, Smut manages to maintain the distinct originality of each track. Part of this success is due to the balance of melancholic tones and high-energy bangers. It’s reaching into a mixed bag of Halloween candies—you don’t know if you’ll grab Sour Patch Kids or Swedish Fish, but either way, your sweet tooth is satisfied. 

“Person of Interest” is all the way sweet. It sways with ethereal synths, a gentle electric guitar line and Roebuck’s siren falsetto—a rainy day vibe, but make it 2000s. With a blend of Soccer Mommy and Snail Mail-esque vocals, this song belongs on someone’s retro chill playlist. Juxtaposing the sleepy atmosphere in “Person of Interest,” “Morningstar” comes next as a tart burst of experimentation. It launches into deep, electric synths with dark undertones as Roebuck’s voice drops into its lower range. The instrumental section grabs your attention with force, sounding like the underlying throb of a dimly lit club. It’s grittier and has a Lorde-like disposition. 

“After Silver Leaves,” “How the Light Felt” and “Believe You Me” stand out as some of Smut’s strongest releases to date. While the lyrical subjects are heavy, abundant with heartache and love lost, the tone captures that movie soundtrack feel and is more hopeful. Here, the alternative shoegaze shushes those echoing thoughts that circle your anxious mind. It’s the tone of a student’s autumn: Classes are in full swing and your list of assignments is a mile long as you walk through crisp air to between classes. The opening strums of “How the Light Felt” stream through your headphones as Roebuck’s vocals ache an enchanting melody: “The moon cannot be shifted / I know this as well as you.” She reminds you that the universe is bigger than these constructed deadlines. You sense a touch of lightness in your chest as the anxiety is held at bay (for now). 

These descendants of turn-of-the-century alternative pop aren’t messing around. With How the Light Felt, Smut proves a genuine ability to capture the human condition and offer a hand to hold along the path. Give it a listen and you’ll find yourself unearthing those lowrise jeans you once loved so much. –Katie Hatzfeld

Read more reviews of albums released on Bayonet Records here:
Review: Beach Fossils – Sommersault
Review: Frankie Cosmos – Next Thing