Tuesday, October 31, 2017


He sings his radio-honed soul paeans as though he lost a Tiddlywink up both nostrils as a toddler, or someone’s permanently holding a pillow to his face......
Not so much nu soul as flu soul........
His vulnerability is endearing; unfortunately the sentiment of tunes such as Burning was dampened by such clog-nosed falsettos that we wondered if, somewhere backstage, a mic’d-up gannet was drowning.
At last someone else who hears the same appalling racket that assaults my ears whenever Sam Smith opens his gob.

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