Stephen James Smith: ‘Sometimes you also need a fallow period’

"There are times," ponders Stephen James Smith, "when you feel that you have caught something in the moment, a fish that you have, as it were, been able to reel in." The Dublin poet is back on his home turf for a day or so, enjoying some sunny morning minutes strolling through St Stephen's Green but also eager to return to his life in his recently adopted residence of Wexford town. We are seated upstairs in a cafe that has "no laptop" signs sellotaped onto the tables, and we're not sure whether that's a positive mindful suggestion or an order we have to adhere to. "After a couple of days, however," Smith continues on the theme of creative quality control, "you might think it's complete shite, but it's an artist's prerogative to be occasionally delusional."

On the cusp of releasing his debut album and embarking on a nationwide and UK tour, when he started his spoken-word career 20 years ago, the word “career” wasn’t necessarily on the tip of his tongue. In his late teens, he had drifted away from banging out songs on an acoustic guitar, yet the idea of expressing himself through words continued. A solid presence (tall, muscular, tight haircut) with a welcoming, highly articulate but grounded demeanour, Smith says that when he heard about an open-mic spoken-word night in Slattery’s Bar, he went along and was hooked.

“Then I heard about a poetry night in a venue called Spy Bar, on Eden Quay, and then other poetry nights. I had all sorts of different jobs – offices, bar work, building sites, sales – but where I engaged with poetry was in those venues. I didn’t necessarily think I’d ever be releasing an album.” Risks need to be taken, he affirms, yet while he finds the idea of being a professional poet as “a bit bullshit, an oxymoron”, he hopes he has “found the middle ground in that I sustain myself, which I can. I began all of this by going to venues and asking music acts for an opening slot of a poem or three. Then I became friends with musicians, and they would have me open their gigs. You’d start doing festivals, one thing would lead to another, and then you’d realise that maybe there was something in it.”

Forthcoming tour

Of course, 20 years have passed like a breath. Now fast approaching 40, Smith makes it very clear that he cares about his art, about what poetry means to him and to other people. “I’m not at all flippant about that. There have been times, however, when I ask myself how people are paying me to talk and to write something, yet I’m also very grateful for it.” After his forthcoming tour, he says, he has “nothing lined up, but at the same time, you need to lean into that with a bit of hope because one thing has always led to another.”

Fontaines DC: ‘Ireland could really benefit from a socialist government’

---

‘I always say the violin is Beyoncé and the viola is Adele’

---

The All-Irish Music Quiz: Which Aslan song was covered by U2 in 2013?

---

I ask how prolific he is as a writer, a poet. Not as much as he’d like to be, he replies. “I can go through spurts of writing quite a lot, but I maybe inhibit myself a bit more these days because I probably have an expectation that can be a hindrance to an extent. That can create a sense of inertia that I need to get out of. Of course, I’m great at dishing out advice to other people but not always great at taking my own, and that can sometimes hold me back a fraction. That said, I’ve written hundreds of poems, a play, and I’m working on another one. And I was reasonably busy during Covid – not that it’s purely about a production line because sometimes you also need a fallow period, but it was nice to realise that I didn’t just rest on the laurels while all the gigs had been taken away. I was still creating work.”

Work is crucial to Smith, the undertaking of it, the being paid for it. In the lead-up to his album being released, a newsletter he had emailed out included the words “my last roll of the dice” in the context of his forthcoming tour, the success (or not) of it, and how the outcome would “be a good barometer of how sustainable this life that I live is”. It is, we guess, a constant concern for artists such as Smith whose earnings, he admits, are “below the average industrial wage”. He is quick to emphasise he is “by no means loaded” but acknowledges that living in Wexford (where he moved to from Dublin in January 2021) has enabled him to “now afford to live”. It was something of a risk to move, he says, but if he hadn’t “the alternative would be that I’d have to stop what I was doing. There is a good arts community in Wexford, the town has beautiful venues, good people, I feel that I have been embraced, and I feel it’s a risk that has paid off. My quality of life has improved so much.”

‘Roll of the dice’

Does he now think the "last roll of the dice" was overly dramatic? More realistic than dramatic, he counters. The forthcoming tour is a gamble because it isn't just Smith and his voice on stage, but rather Smith and three other people – musicians Aidan Murphy and Gareth Quinn Redmond, whose elegant musical fingerprints are all over the new album, and artist Steve Simpson. Smith feels it's time to "share the stage. I want less of a focus on me . . . to have more collective energy in the room."

Back to life, back to reality. “Three people on the road with me is three more mouths to feed and pay, more equipment, transport, accommodation, so this time around if people don’t come to the gigs, then between cuts going to booking agents, I could be in debt. If I’m lucky, the UK dates will break even, whereas the Irish shows will be okay if I get decent ticket sales. I will be the last person, however, to get any money. I will need to create merchandise items, but that entails putting up money to make them, and if people don’t buy any, then you’re stuck with a few boxes.”

With the big Four Zero looming, he senses life plans will change. He doesn’t think he has “hit the mid-life crisis yet” and he says he wants to be a father. “I know that will change the dynamic in my life, so in the next couple of years I would hope to be a bit more settled. It’s what I was alluding to in the ‘last roll of the dice’ comment in the email newsletter. I can continue plodding along with what I’m doing and enjoying the experiential side of it, which is a large part of it, but you also need to pay the bills and that’s just the reality I’m facing into now.”

He says he feels quite “embedded in Wexford, yet initially I had probably thought it might be short-term. I’m there over a year now and I feel I’m putting down more roots”. Making his presence felt in a community, being an ambassador for a community, serving a community – these things are important to Smith, who as well as having a serious gift for words also has a gritty survivor’s instinct. He says he is somewhat anxious as to how the album will be received, but is relaxed about it, too, “because I’m really proud of who I got to work with and I’m proud of the poems.

“It’s about connection,” he says, slyly glancing at the “no laptops” sign again, “and so I hope people connect with it. Forging links is what art is all about.”

Stephen James Smith’s debut album, See No Evil, is released on Friday, April 1st. His Irish tour starts on Friday, April 8th, at the Pepper Canister, and concludes on Friday, May 6th, at Coughlan’s, Cork. His UK tour starts on Wednesday, May 18th at the London Irish Centre. stephenjamessmith.com

Entertainment and enlightenment: ‘Three poets using their craft’

Lyndsey Lawlor
"Lyndsey is a poet from Tallaght who recently moved to Canada. We crossed paths when I did some mentorship with her for Minding Creative Minds and instantly struck up a rapport. In January, I was at the launch of her debut album, Dearest Philistine, and I was blown away by her energy and straight away fell in love with how she gets to the heart of the matter. The world is her oyster."

Ben Mac Caoilte
"I've got to know Ben, a poet, teacher and archaeologist from Kilkenny, since I moved to Wexford. He is a bilingual poet, writing in English and Irish, and is very much rooted in our culture and the rural way of living. Recently, I witnessed him do a reading to a small room in Bunclody and immediately knew he had the gift. His album, Beyond the Apple Tree, is worth a listen, and is available on Bandcamp."

Adam Mohamed
"I first met Adam in Ballymun about five years ago through a workshop I was giving in the brilliant Axis Arts Centre. He left an impression on me with his gentle, attentive nature, and he clearly has an interest in his community, which he represents so articulately. Recently, he has received attention with the release of his videos, Untitled, and Me And I, and is taking his first steps to become a beacon for underrepresented voices. I don't say this to add pressure on him; he just needs to continue to grow as he is and everything will happen for him."