Mindy Smith – On the inside
You wouldn’t know it from listening to Long Island Shores, but Smith dotes on glossy pop productions, even to the point of having pop dreams of her own.
“There are times when things need to be a certain way,” she says. “I listen to Shania Twain. I love that polished sound. I love it. I aspire to write the perfect pop song. I don’t know if that’s gonna happen. Certainly it’s not my focus, but that sure would be fun. I love that stuff. But I also love John Prine and I love that he just goes for it and sings and has a good time.”
Neither John Prine nor Shania Twain appears on Long Island Shores, but Smith did manage to enlist one of Nashville’s most admired and respected musicians. “Buddy’s on my record!” Smith enthuses when Buddy Miller, a good-and-then-some singer and player, comes up in conversation. “I was just so elated and completely just, ‘Aah!’ He’s so sweet and humble and kind and wouldn’t assume that anyone would want to do anything with him. I love him and Julie both. They’re just so connected. Musically, they rise to a place most people can’t imagine.”
The Millers’ influence can be heard at points throughout Long Island Shores, and not just for Buddy’s presence on a handful of tracks. Smith writes and sings with an empathetic, prayerful spirit that at times approaches Julie’s, and the brooding, Appalachian cast of “I’m Not The Only One Asking” is redolent of emerging Miller classics such as “All My Tears” and “Does My Ring Burn Your Finger”.
As much as she wanted Buddy to play on the album, Smith says it was only due to fortuitous schedule changes, and her persistence, that it finally happened. “I admit it, I kind of cornered him,” she confesses. “But he was really sweet about it. I love it. I love Buddy Miller.”
Miller’s playing on the record certainly is unmistakable. Most folks, though, might need to consult the credits to confirm that it’s Buddy (singing well below his normal range) trading lines with Smith on “What If The World Stops Turning”.
“It’s in a low register, and it was tough,” says Smith of Miller’s vocal part. “I wrote that song with John Scott Sherrill [perhaps best known for penning John Anderson’s hit “Wild And Blue”] and I wanted somebody who would appreciate what John Scott Sherrill does as a songwriter. I wanted that perspective there.”
Perspective is something Smith has in abundance, especially when it comes to the big picture, to the things that really matter. “I tend not to be fearful of addressing most any issue that I’m struggling with,” she says, “or that I see making an impact in the world. I’m not a political person, by any means. But I don’t think that throwing bombs at each other is going to solve any problems. Humanity needs to step it up. We make great technological advances but our hearts are kind of shrinking.
“The people fighting over there, I don’t know, I’m not in that position,” Smith goes on, alluding to war in Iraq and Afghanistan. “I pray for them. I pray for everybody there. Again, I’m not a political person. My heart just says to me that maybe this isn’t right. That’s what the song ‘Out Loud’ is about — on so many, many levels. It’s not just about the state of the United States, or the rest of the world’s perception of the United States. It’s about how we’re treating other people. Maybe we’re having issues with somebody’s lifestyle, or maybe…
“I’m not a prophet but that’s what the song’s about. It’s about humanity as a whole. Clearly, it was motivated by certain issues in the world at the moment. But I do think it can coexist with a lot of things that are happening. In New Orleans, for example. The people down there are still struggling and so now we just let it go and they’re still homeless. It’s the same issue. It’s a human issue.”
No shrinking heart, Smith is given to conflicted deliberations such as these. She seems to invite the dissonance, to let it get to her, or at least to accept it as an inevitable byproduct of her struggle to make sense of the things she believes and the things she sees happening around her. Doubtless it’s this struggle, this willingness to confront and even listen to the noise inside her, that draws people to her songs, as well as to the often subtly discordant arrangements in which she cradles them.
Sometimes, of course, the noise can be too much, too jarring. Thus a song like “Peace Of Mind”, the unvarnished appeal that closes Long Island Shores. “I need peace of mind and hopeful heart/To lose this rage and move out of the dark,” Smith sings to delicately filigreed acoustic guitar.
Her words are like a prayer, and so is the music, but they’re not your usual supplication. Smith invokes God at one point, but more by way of confessing to us that she needs God, that she — and by implication everyone — needs a steadfast hand to quiet the storm within.
“I need peace of mind and gentle hand/Or a miracle for this broken soul,” she sings toward the end of the song’s final stanza. After that, her fingers stray off into a dissonant guitar interlude, casting doubt on whether Smith’s hopes can in fact be realized. Finally, she regains the melody and, in a small yet firm voice, reasserts, “I need peace of mind and a hopeful heart,” trusting that someone, divine or human, will hear her.
ND senior editor Bill Friskics-Warren is the author of I’ll Take You There: Pop Music And The Urge For Transcendence, which came out in paperback this fall. He too is a fan of both Shania Twain and John Prine. Buddy Miller, too.