샘스미스 Sam Smith

SAM SMITH 샘 스미스

그의 앨범에 들어 있는 노래 한 곡, 한 곡. 

어느 것 하나 그냥 흘려버릴만한 노래가 없을만큼 무한 반복으로 듣게된다.

호소력을 겸비한 그의 매력적인 소울 보이스, 거기에 감미로운 멜로디까지.. 

듣다보면 그렇게 된다.

2017년 11월 두 번째 앨범 ‘The Thrill Of It All’을 발표한 샘 스미스는 오는 10월 9일 한국에서의 공연을 처음으로 일본, 홍콩, 태국 등 아시아 투어를 갖는다. 물론 아시아 투어뿐만 아니라 세계 투어에 속해있는 일정일 뿐이다.

현대카드 슈퍼콘서트 23 SAM SMITH(샘 스미스)

그의 한국에서의 공연이 있다는 소식을 티켓 예매가 있고서 뒤늦게서야 듣게 되었다. 

당연히 표는 매진.

물론 업자들의 재판매 티켓이 있긴 하지만, 그 금액은 이미 상상 이상의 금액이 되었다.

99,000 ~ 220,000 원 티켓이 200,000 ~ 2,000,000 원까지 오른 상태다.

언제가 될지는 모르지만, 또 어디서 보게 될지는 모르지만 (물론 영국에서라면야 가장 좋겠지만..)

샘 스미스, 그의 공연을 꼭 보고 싶다. 아니, 꼭 보리라..

중요한 건, 한국 가수가 아닌 아닌 외국 가수의 공연을 보고 싶다고 생각한 것은 생전 처음이라는...

about 샘스미스 Sam Smith

샘 스미스가 영국과 미국 무대에 이름을 알리기 시작한 때는 2012년이다. 당시 매니저가 앨범을 준비하고 있던 영국 일렉트로닉 댄스음악 듀오 디스클로저에게 샘 스미스의 노래를 보냈고, 그의 재능을 알아본 디스클로저가 제안해 함께 노래를 부르게 된다.

그 곡이 바로 영국과 미국 등 여러 나라에서 히트한 'Latch' 이다. 

매니저가 디스클로저에게 보냈던 노래는 2013년 첫 솔로로 선보인 'Lay Me Down'이다.

　

샘 스미스의 노래, 특히 노랫말은 솔직한 감정을 있는 그대로 드러낸다. 

샘 스미스 스스로 데뷔 앨범을 '나의 일기장' 이라고 할 만큼, 샘 스미스는 일상의 감정을 그만의 어조로 노래하는 것이다.

'백문불여일견 (百聞不如一見)', 아직 그의 노래를 듣지못했다면 꼭 들어보기를..

* 아래 글과 사진은 더 타임즈(The Times) 에 실린 내용.

Backstage in San Diego, Sam Smith

Sam Smith is feeling fragile. Last night he performed to 21,000 people in downtown LA, afterwards hitting the gay bars of West Hollywood. “We were just screaming Beyonce requests at the DJ and dancing all night,” he says, leading me onto the terrace of the Hollywood mansion he has been renting for the West Coast leg of his world tour. “I love going out. And I love my gay bars. But I’m not that wild. My big nights are behind me. It’s not good for my voice to overdo it. Also, big parties give me anxiety.”

I’m meeting Smith during the tour for his second album, The Thrill of It All. Since March, he has done 66 shows, everywhere from Sheffield to Arizona. He says his British fans are “incredible”, but for a softly spoken singer from Hertfordshire the adoration in America is extraordinary. As I watched him last night, the hysteria from fans was deafening, screams so wild they made me wince. You might expect that reaction at a Justin Bieber concert, but Sam Smith? He of such lyrics as, “you’ve been so unavailable … your heart is unobtainable”? “I know,” he laughs, still floored by the fandom. “My music feels quite depressing. I don’t know what the word is. I love my music but end up slating it all the time.”

Sam with his band and backing singers pre concert at Valley View Casino Centre, San Diego

During a recent gig in Mexico City, fans placed coloured plastic over their phone screens, a different colour for each section of the arena, so that when they held them up in sync, it looked like a huge pride flag coming from the audience. It had been meticulously planned, with several thousand fans communicating on forums. “My BVs [backing vocalists] were holding back tears, I was speechless,” says Smith. “Moments like that are like an out-of-body experience. In the US, they really love a singer. They love sad songs.”

Sam with his band and backing singers pre concert at Valley View Casino Centre, San Diego

Sad songs are Smith’s USP. His debut album, In the Lonely Hour, some of which was written when he was just 18, is the soundtrack to approximately 15m broken hearts (the sales figure for the record as of June). He started training with a jazz pianist when he was eight and much of his childhood was spent in choirs at his Catholic school or local music-theatre rehearsals. By the age of 12, he had a manager. He moved to London at 18 to pursue fame, and worked in a pub where he met the songwriter Jimmy Napes. Through Napes he eventually met the dance duo Disclosure, and together they wrote the megahit Latch. A record deal swiftly followed.

Now 26, Smith has seven No1s, four Grammys and an Oscar for Writing’s on the Wall, the theme to the James Bond film Spectre. His fans range from Elton John to Ellen DeGeneres, not to mention the chap in sequined heels and a tracksuit waiting outside the Staples Centre in LA, telling me he’s been to “every Sam Smith concert in California”, or the man who proposed to his girlfriend in the front row in Sacramento, because Smith’s music means so much to them. “My first album wasn’t only about relationships, it was about being gay and growing up and feeling that no one understood me, which I think everyone feels,” he says.

Dating, though excellent fodder for Smith’s songwriting, is challenging. “My life from the outside can seem glamorous, but the reality is that I am on tour every other year and I’m never home, and it’s public,” he says. He is currently single; his last, and only public, relationship was an eight-month romance with the American actor Brandon Flynn (star of the Netflix teen drama 13 Reasons Why), which ended in June. “Brandon was wonderful,” Smith says. “I’m still trying to figure out what I took from that relationship and what it meant to me. It’s still quite raw. All my relationships have ended in a nice way, never nasty.” He wants to keep any other details about Flynn private, though he recognises that “seeing gay relationships [in a public way] is important and refreshing. You don’t see it loads.”

Part of his advocacy for kindness comes from his parents. He grew up with two younger sisters, Mabel, 22, and Lily, 23, his “best friends”. His parents divorced when he was 18. “Everyone was heartbroken, both parties,” he says, “but the amazing and lucky thing is that my parents remained friends. They both have other partners and speak on the phone all the time. They can hang out together. We’re all still a unit in a modern way. Weirdly, my parent’s divorce made me believe in love even more.”

He’s a hopeless romantic. “I love sending flowers, leaving notes around the house and making thoughtful presents. I feel like I’m in a Richard Curtis film all the time. Which is bad, because I think everything should be like a movie and I get anxiety when it’s not.” He’s not on any dating apps; instead, he meets people “out and about”. Or, “under the disco balls”, he adds with a smile. “Right now, the thought of getting into a relationship is too much. I just want to marry my job, work really hard and hopefully, when I’m not looking for [love], it will come.”

Backstage in San DiegoBackstage in San Diego

Two days later, I join him in San Diego for another sellout show. His core crew ? 100 members ? travel to every gig, whereupon they meet an additional local crew at the venue to build the set. Smith’s dressing room is decked out identically in each place: teal velvet curtains, rug, sofas, a record player and framed pictures of his friends, family and idols such as Freddie Mercury and Amy Winehouse. Le Labo Santal 33 perfume and scented candles waft through the air and a basket of green vegetables and a NutriBullet sit on a side table, next to an ice bucket of white wine. A pair of black heels are strewn on the floor. “They’re Sam’s,” nods the tour manager, eyes glued to one of his three phones.

Smith’s entourage includes a trainer, chef, vocal coach, make-up artist, photographer, ex-army security guard and whichever friends and family he has flown out. Lily has been with him for the past three weeks. They all have a WhatsApp group he’s not included in. “They seem to have loads of fun on that and I’m not welcome,” he laughs. It’s a working family of camaraderie, in jokes and back slaps. “My managers are amazing, because they’re so good at calming me down,” he says. “I am work obsessed. I’m always bouncing off things, coming up with good and stupid ideas, but also always panicking that everything is going to fail.”

Smith is exceptionally hard on himself. He struts around on stage, exuding confidence and flair, clearly in his element. Yet he admits to struggling with self-doubt, constantly feeling he isn’t enough ? or isn’t doing enough. But in person, he is irresistibly engaging. Around the dinner table or in his dressing room, no topic, from drag queens to celibacy, is off limits (yet sadly off the record). He’s happy chatting to anyone, letting anyone else be the centre of attention. Writing music has always been an outlet for his insecurities, but five months ago, he started professional therapy. “I find it amazing,” he says. “I never want to complain about fame, it’s such a privilege, but I have to pretend that I know what I’m doing when really I don’t. It’s a mindf***. My biggest fear in life is that I’ll never be satisfied, and therapy helps with that.”

Smith keeps his Twitter and Instagram apps in a folder labelled Crack, to remind him how addictive social media is. “Instagram is wonderful, because you get to connect with people. It’s an art form, actually. But it’s dangerous. Going through a break-up, feeling sad and tender, is something that you should be feeling. You should allow yourself time to heal. But on Instagram, everyone’s having a great time, which makes you feel like shit.”

Smith’s show days start with a sound check at the venue at 5pm, followed by an hour of training: running up the stairs of big arenas or lifting weights. With the help of the British nutritionist Amelia Freer, who has worked with Boy George and James Corden, Smith famously dropped 50lb in 2015 after being unhappy with his weight. He looks incredibly slim. Buff, even. “I can tuck my shirts in now, so I enjoy getting dressed,” he smiles. He has fronted a Balenciaga campaign and Givenchy has made clothes for this tour. 

“I love relaxed wear,” he says. “I like things to look classic and feel timeless.” His fitness regime is strict. “I need as much routine as possible on tour,” he says. “Working out is also a huge part of taking care of my voice.” Meals are a lot of salmon and steamed veg. Not many carbs and no acidic foods or dairy. “No cooked tomatoes, which is a shame.” He performs from 9pm to 11pm, then it’s either straight out or straight on the tour bus. “I don’t have much of a showbiz life,” he says. “In LA, I spend as much time as I can in Malibu by the sea.” Plus the occasional hangout with Lady Gaga, or Kesha, who sat behind me at his LA gig (“She texted me to say she was coming. She’s a beautiful person”) and Calvin Harris, the collaborator on his latest No1, Promises.

Post America, tour dates in South Africa will keep Smith on the road for several more months, but I suspect that if he found the right partner he would throw as much commitment into a relationship as he does his career. He lights up when he talks about monogamy, having kids one day and even his quiet, suburban north London life. “I miss home,” he says. “When I’m there I walk on Hampstead Heath, go to pub quizzes and get on the Tube.” Then his eyes twinkle. “Sometimes I’ll do a bar crawl up Old Compton Street or head down to Vauxhall.” Perhaps there are a few thrilling years left in him after all.