A ghost lingers in the grooves of Anxious, the posthumous solo debut from 17-year-old British Columbia singer-songwriter Nell Smith, who tragically passed away in an automobile accident in the autumn of 2024.
For those unfamiliar with the songsmith’s story: She caught the eye of the Flaming Lips’ Wayne Coyne when, aged 12 in 2018, she wore a parrot costume to one of his group’s concerts. That led him to befriend both her and her parents, also fans, and over time he became something of a mentor to her; he encouraged her to take up guitar, for example, and then—during the COVID years—convinced her to record an album of Nick Cave covers, Where the Viaduct Looms, with the Lips. (No less than Cave himself gave a thumbs-up to the result.)
There’s a big difference between covering a song and developing one from scratch, of course. But that’s why I dubbed Smith a “songsmith” up above: Her talent is evident from the lead-off track, “Anxious,” onward; melodically, joined by Jack and Lily Wolter of Penelope Isles, she navigates the corridor of psychedelic-tinged pop-rock while delving into the domain not just of teenage life, but the life music fans of all ages will identify with: “I get anxious so to calm me down/I have a rainbow in my pocket, stole it from a clown/I get anxious walking through my town/So I put my music on and I make it loud.”
“Daisy Fields,” written with the Canadian folk band Shred Kelly, is a breezy yet bittersweet delight about the heart bursts—and accompanying angst—engendered by new love: “I don’t know what to do any more/I’m waiting for your knock on the door/But if the stars don’t align/July will remind me of you every time.” The heartfelt “Bubba,” on the other hand, celebrates a friend who passed from cancer. “The Worst Best Drug” focuses on a fleeting relationship that led her to become hooked on the drug that is love. The deft “Service Song,” on the other hand, spotlights life in the service industry; anyone who’s dealt with frontline customers will hear aspects of their own experiences in it, I think.
The whimsical “Boy in a Bubble” isn’t about John Travolta—a reference only those of us of a certain age may get, granted—but Wayne Coyne. It’s as colorful as her parrot costume, seen in the above video, was, with swirling synths and guitars, and spoken-word bits. It’s fun personified. “Splash” tempers the mood, however, with a sharp portrayal of homesickness, while “I Know Nothing” delves into loss. “Billions of People” adds a jaunty beat to the mix while exploring the math behind love and heartache: “7.92 billion people, I choose you.”
The album closes with “Split in the Sky,” a colorful account of having her skin marked with permanent ink—aka her first tattoo. It’s a perfect ending, as it and the songs that precede it are sure to stay with those who listen to the collection. It’s a young woman’s indelible spirit set to song, if you will—the ghost I referenced in the lede.
Hand in hand with the album’s release, the Nell Smith Memorial Fund hopes to raise $100,000 in order to nurture and support young artists in the years to come. I’ve donated; I hope you do, too.
The Old Grey Cat 