Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
With Zack Smith and Caitlin Doyle, the Los Angeles band Smooth Hound Smith has the advantage of providing the counter to every punch, if there are any punches to counter. What Smith and Doyle tend to do more often than not though is provide that interesting foil to those male and female problems that ultimately stem from the same places, covering different predilections.
One can inherently be a man's view of a situation and the other can be one that is systemically from the woman's viewpoint, but without much stretching, we're able to see them as the same views, for the most part, only with different inflections and touches. They are not wholly different, but rather so similar that it's scary. They lack that midpoint, where feet are stepped on and the belly-laughs spew for here they were, all along, thinking that they were a million miles apart and they were really just overlapping so much that they were sharing the same space -- having the damnedest time recognizing it.
Smith and Doyle sing about the being here now parts of living and loving. It gets messy and sloppy and all kinds of dusty. It's a string of casualties that are all perked with bits and pieces of the grittiest parts of existence. Smith sings, "I'm gonna find myself a woman that the rain won't rust," and Doyle follows somewhere else with plenty of indications that the women she's speaking for would never let themselves rust if they were just delivered a man who was worth their time.