Robert Luther Smith
Robert Luther Smith’s Blues Man is a reflective journey through love, loss, human behavior, and life’s unanswered questions. Inspired by American road-trip imagery and his lifelong passion for blues, soul, R&B, and rock, Smith blends personal introspection with a wandering observer’s perspective, embracing modern production to bring the music he has always imagined to life.
1. ‘Bluesman’ introduces a wandering observer who is partly fictional and partly a reflection of yourself. How did this character first take shape, and what aspects of your own personality and experiences did you want to put into him?
I suppose it came to me gradually, partly because I wanted to know what the hell I was talking about but also, I’m interested in psychoanalysis and wanted to see the influences that were subconsciously influencing me. Lockdown gave me the time to do just that, after recording three albums with Dave (Thomas), we had to stop so I pondered. I think Kings and Queens, my first professional song, reworked for Blues Man, shows the observational style in its first form, melancholic (or bluesy), and slightly detached. I think Americana, the idea of the road trip, has always fascinated me and it really only works in the American drama. Long roads to nowhere, stopping off at diners and dives and bars, meeting people or observing them.
2. You describe the Blues Man as someone who moves from place to place observing people, relationships, love, and loss. What is it about watching everyday human behavior that continues to inspire you as a songwriter?
I got the observational thing from spending time in Paris and sitting with a beer and baguette jambon, watching the people go by at the Latin Quarter. Moving from place to place creates an eternal stranger. That’s the dramatic style to create a character. I’ve always been interested in psychology and the various ways people act and mix, and particularly get caught up in love, which, in the final analysis, is what matters most to people. Little things, like a woman’s hair blowing over her shoulder, a homeless person asking for a cigarette, all these things can trigger a line of thought. The music is different. In my head, tunes just endlessly repeat until I hit on a new combination, that I don’t think came from elsewhere, which they sometimes do, particularly titles in my case, but I immediately work the melody out on the piano and go from there. “I’ll be there” is a good example: in that case the melody came first, and I fitted the words to it.
3. The idea of the American road trip plays an important role in the world surrounding Blues Man. What fascinates you about that imagery, and how does the idea of being constantly on the road connect with the themes of the album?
I suppose some movies gave me the road trip vibe. It’s more interesting travelling on Route 66 than the A1. The vastness of the USA has an existential or dramatic feel rather than stopping at a services on the A35, as unfair as that may be. Like David Byrne, I’m interested in the “road to nowhere,” an analogy for “where am I going?” “What does life mean?” Does it mean anything? Obviously, the idea of a musician or singer touring, the travelling minstrel adds detail to the mix.
4. You originally learned to play blues before moving toward funk and eventually incorporating rock, soul, R&B, and pop into your music. When making ‘Bluesman’, how did you reconnect with those early blues roots while still reflecting the musician you have become?
In fact, I learnt to play the blues first. At the time there was a lot of blues, Hendrix (Red House) and Free come to mind immediately. But the 3-chord structure of the blues meant I could just noodle in a pentatonic scale til I got the idea. Then I got a fuzz box and a Watkins Copycat and I was away. I then went from that basic understanding to expanding my knowledge of chords, mostly on the piano. However, I’m not a fan of the mighty arpeggiators, I’m a B.B King and Elliot Randall fan. It’s the feel that counts, not the number of notes, so my blues roots remain in my guitar playing, the complexity comes from the piano (or keys of any kind).
5. You’ve worked with producer Dave Thomas for around 13 years, and your recent material has also involved an AI remix process. How has your creative relationship evolved over that time, and what role does modern technology play without losing the organic character of your music?
For starters, Dave and I both love Tears for Fears. I met him first when trying to find someone here who could translate Sibelius (the music-writing program) into music. The local music shop and studio Absolute music told me about Dave, so I went to see him. He was building his first studio then and lo and behold he could get the Sibelius to play the music digitally. I was impressed. However, unlike may people I’ve worked with he could deal with my zany ideas that turn out to be good and thanks to Tears for Fears, we gelled. We don’t argue. I never do and nor does he. He just goes with the idea and Hole in My Heart was our first production. Obviously, Lockdown slowed the whole thing down and I have to admit I was pleased with everything, and I started curating everything and moving all the tracks to Spotify. I had them on arthouserecords site but in the end, if you can’t beat them, join them. This must have triggered Dave to do something and he emailed a couple of tracks “If I loved you” and “Philly Girl” I think, “just a bit of fun” he said diplomatically, and I could hear the difference in the sound. The voice was “out there” and everything was right in my head.
6. You’ve said of Blues Man, “It’s like the music I heard in my head.” After decades of songwriting and a long period away from releasing music, what makes this particular album feel so personally satisfying, and where do you hope the Blues Man’s journey takes listeners?
It was indeed exactly how I had heard it in my head. I now know it’s all about compression. Professional compressors can cost £10,000+ so you can see why most people don’t have them. But to have compression on EVERY track is tricky. However, Suno can. Plus, it cleans up the tracking. There’s no cross-over, no ambient noise, it corrects minor timing errors and a touch of harmonizer means the voice holds up more like a live recording. It’s good. Human jealousy is a hard thing to accept, but everyone is admitting it’s my best album yet because it sounds so live and real. And at least three tracks are re-mixes and are on previous albums. It just goes to show why Bowie spent as much time mixing as recording. I’ve got another album in the can at Dave’s, but let’s see what Blues Man does and I guess I’ll keep making records. I just wanted to learn how to make R&B records. I like making records. I’ll keep at it.