“We really set out to get into Australia and not just see the capital cities,” he says. “It’s been beautiful meeting so many great people; a lot of them have let us into their homes and you feel that if you come back around that way, you’ve always got a friend. That’s almost as important as playing the shows, having those experiences. Not just a tour bus into a venue and a tour bus out. There’s parties you get invited back to… That’s all part of the great times.”
The final stage of the Exits tour includes some of Smyth’s biggest shows to date. Following on from multiple slots at Bluesfest last weekend, this Saturday night, he’ll take over Howler. These gigs are a sure contrast to the cramped bars and taverns, caravan parks and sidewalks he’s visited throughout the last seven months. But even when performing for a tiny audience, Smyth makes the most of the occasion.
“I don’t think I’ve been a hyped man at any point; I don’t expect to be and I don’t really want to be,” he says. “If there’s five people at the show, then that’s a good time. The shows where there’s 50 people crammed into a little room are the most precious. There’s a few moments in each show where you’re so present and you all feel like you’re in a room together. It’s like a big conversation, like sitting down at a big family gathering with the extended cousins that you don’t really know too well, but you know there’s something that binds you.”
Performing night after night for more than half a decade, Smyth could easily have developed an on-stage routine by now, which would allow him to work on autopilot. However, such a suggestion ignores the fact that Smyth isn’t just an entertainer carrying out a commercial function. Rather, he aims to enact a spiritual exchange.
“I don’t do yoga or meditation, but there’s different experiences every time people do that,” he says. “It’s the same in music. I’m pushing into a certain place and there are certain triggers that push me a bit further into that meditative state, where the world ceases to exists a lot more than any other time in your day. I never want it to be pre-programmed. That would be horrible. Whenever I feel like I’m getting too close to that, something drastic happens. It’d be a shame to feel like I’ve got tricks up my sleeve and it’s not something that’s coming from an honest place.”
At first listen, Exits is something of a bumpy ride. Tracks like Get On – powered by a hard stomp, coated with demented electric guitar and topped off by Smyth’s murderous howl – stand in harsh contrast to the sweetly subdued Written or Spoken, which features orchestral flourishes and gently plucked classical guitar. After building a relationship with the record, however, Exits becomes less a composite of competing characteristics than a depiction of Smyth’s multi-faceted artistry. For Smyth himself, living with the songs day-in day-out, a similar evolution has occurred.
“In the studio, it’s like being at a hospital and these tunes are just freshly born and they don’t really know how to walk or talk,” he says. “By the end of touring, they’ve metamorphosed and gone through many changes. It’s like getting a nice pair of shoes. You fork out a fair bit of money to get those nice shoes and they fucking blister and they bleed and you’re sore as shit. But then, by the end of a couple of months, they’re sacred and they get their own character.”
Prior to wrapping up his Australian tour, Smyth briefly ducked over to the US for a stint at South by South West. It’s become trendy for artists to bad-mouth SXSW, which often stems from the struggle to make a major impact amid such a mass of artists. But it should come as no surprise Smyth not only relished every show, but he also had some off-kilter experiences.
“You can’t not embrace it with wide open eyes, and we sure did,” he says. “When we landed in, we had a big night. I walked out of a tattoo that I didn’t pay for and went back to a bar and I got this message on my phone saying that the tattoo artist was coming to my show. So I was like, ‘Holy fuck,’ and I went back in the next day to pay, thinking that I would [be] beaten with a baseball bat. But they had big open arms like, ‘Oh, dude I knew you’d come back’.”
Limbs in tact, Smyth will kick off a lengthy European tour in May. It’s safe to say his journeyman predilection isn’t weakening. “It’s been beautiful to be back in Australia and I’ve fallen in love with it,” he says, “but I’m not sure what’s to come after this. Once I get back to Europe, I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
