“To anyone listening live on the radio,” Sam Smith said at the outset of their BBC Proms performance, addressing the BBC Radio 3 audience at home, “don’t worry – I’m not going to get my bum out. Even I know there’s a time and a place”.
What weird times we live in. Back in 2014, Smith was very much seen as the safe establishment choice: anointed by the powers-that-be with both the BBC Sound Of… and BRITs Critics Choice awards, their of-the-moment retro soul debut album was as about a surefire hit as they come; In the Lonely Hour duly won Grammys and sold 12 million copies.
But having changed their pronouns, come out as nonbinary and, with 2023’s Gloria album, experimented with some age-old pop transgressions – Bowie-like elaborate art costumes, S&M gear, Satanist imagery – Smith has become a target of scorn and ridicule; painted by the tabloids and the prejudiced hard of thinking as some sort of pop antichrist scandalising society.
That Smith’s supposed offences weren’t terribly convincing, pretty tame and quite old hat – Mick Jagger was dressing up as the devil in 1968 – didn’t seem to matter; even the BBC Proms organisers were moved to assure people that the show’s “look and feel will be entirely appropriate for the audience in attendance”. Won’t somebody think of the children.
In the end, there was nothing to worry about. Smith mostly played the part of consummate pro during what was an authentic Prom experience. Particularly so in the show’s excellent first half, where, in a suave dark lapelled suit, they celebrated the 10-year anniversary of In the Lonely Hour with suitably tasteful renditions of many of their best-known tracks.
Smith’s music, an infinitely more conservative prospect than their new found reputation, lends itself to the full bells-and-whistles BBC Concert Orchestra treatment; from the opening symphonic swirl of “Good Thing”, new orchestral arrangements elevated the songs, invariably lovelorn ballads, with an emotional weight they sometimes lacked on record. In the circumstances, “I’m Not the Only One” and gospel-flavoured singalong “Stay With Me” sounded like old standards; “I Told You Now” showed their voice remains a marvel; its full range, from deep to a soaring falsetto, was on show.
Perhaps aware the album’s deep cuts would be a stretch for a general audience, we got two covers; they brought their old vocal coach Joanna Eden out for a somewhat dull version of “Hushabye Mountain” by The Sherman Brothers and an affecting cover of Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now” worked far better. But the highlight was “Writing’s on the Wall”, their Oscar-winning Bond theme that sounded like it was built just for that moment, adding a dense drama that was otherwise missing.
The second half was more uneven. After returning from the interval dressed in an ostentatious overflowing dark red dress and addressing the crowd as “ladies and gentlemen and everything in between” – they were never going to completely bow to convention – Smith visibly loosened up during “Latch”, an impressive vocal-heavy reworking on their dancey Disclosure collaboration. But what followed was slightly disjointed; a jazzy section with singer Clare Teal, including a cover of “Fever”, was glorified cabaret; and not even the orchestra could save thin, all-too predictable ballads like “How Do You Sleep”.
But the show ended with two moments to remember. “Unholy”, the duet with trans singer Kim Petras that became the focus of such ire, sounded dark, dangerous and utterly fantastic, Smith in their element in a devil-horned trilby.
They then finished with a rather lovely, gentle take on “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” that made the furore over their booking seem silly; in the end, Smith delivered the sort of appropriate night even their critics might have enjoyed.