Though he released just one single, made just one TV appearance, and has barely been sighted in public in over a quarter of a century, Brett Smiley can rightfully claim to rank among the true legends of glam rock. American born, but a thoroughbred Anglophile, Smiley (that is his real name, incidentally) spent four years with the touring company of the stageshow Oliver before moving into pop music.
In 1972, an aspiring manager tried launching him on the U.K., only to find there was no room past the then-prevalent mania for the Osmonds and David Cassidy. Smiley returned to the U.S., moving between Seattle, Hollywood, and New York, and recorded a set of demos with future Knack supremo Doug Fieger's band Sky. They failed to land a deal, but did catch the ear of Andrew Loog Oldham, former manager/producer of the Rolling Stones.
In early 1974, Oldham arranged a 100,000 dollar record deal with the U.K. Anchor label; Smiley's debut single, the effervescent "Va Va Va Voom" was recorded in London with Steve Marriott laying down some blistering guitar. They then traveled to Nashville to begin work on an album -- the sessions moved to New York and back to London before the set was completed. In the meantime, Smiley made his TV debut on Britain's Russell Harty - Plus that October and was pictured on the cover of the music paper Disc.
"Va Va Va Voom," however, bombed in the U.K. and a projected U.S. release through Sire fell apart soon after. Anchor then withdrew their support, shelving the album release before the recordings had even been paid for.
Smiley returned to the States, where he now lives in New York and continues to perform on a semi-regular basis. He reunited with Oldham during the late '80s for a handful of recordings, but they, too, remain unreleased. (allmusic.com)
allmusic.com review:
Brett Smiley
was a legend in glam rock circles, but a legend only to those who lived
through the times or fanatically dug through old, yellowed copies of
Melody Maker, NME, and Disc, seeking to re-create the times. Such is the
fate of a singer whose only album was shelved following a disastrous
performance of a heavily hyped single. Smiley
deserved better, but fate has been kind to him, since his longstanding
cult reputation led to the much belated but still celebrated release of
his scrapped 1974 album, Breathlessly Brett, on RPM in 2003. Its release was tied into RPM's Lipsmackin' 70s series, which debuted with Velvet Tinmine, a collection of glam and glitter singles forgotten to all but die-hard record collectors. Smiley
comfortably fit into this category, of course, and his storied bomb,
"Va Va Va Voom," received its CD debut there, whetting the appetite for
this disc. Everybody who's
heard the collection or the single will know what to expect, and will be delighted with what they get -- a fabulously fey, coyly campy, and smashingly swishy glam pop album; it's Bowie and Bolan filtered through Judy Garland and performed by the prettiest boy to sigh into a microphone in the '70s. These are precisely the ingredients for a cult classic, of course, but it's hardly something that would have burned up the charts, unless it hit at precisely the right moment and was sold to the hilt.
Smiley did have Andrew Loog Oldham, the man who sold the world the Rolling Stones in the '60s, behind him, producing his record, pushing his image, and selecting his material. Oldham
often had his finger on the pulse of pop currents and his genius was
promotion, but he was simply off here. He was a little late on the glam
bandwagon, he relied too heavily on Smiley's gorgeous visage, he bizarrely encouraged Smiley
to play up MOR and traditional pop links (he covers "Young at Heart,"
names one original "April in Paris," and adds "Over the Rainbow" to the
end of his cover of the Four Tops' "I Can't Help Myself"), and when it didn't sell, he jumped ship immediately.
To be frank, this music minces and swishes so much
and has so much old-fashioned theatricality that it's hard to see how it
would have been a big hit, no matter how pretty Smiley is or how catchy each of these songs are. But these are all the reasons why Breathlessly Brett
is a delight for obsessive glam fans and unrepentant pop record
collectors. It's the kind of record where even the bad moments -- and
there are undeniably silly patches -- have a kind of absurd charm, such
as ending a fizzy, trashy glitter-bubblegum album with "Young at Heart,"
or how Smiley
twists the words of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" to "You got that
something/You got that hand." But the real strength of the album is in Smiley's original songs. Prior to this, it seemed like he peaked early with "Va Va Va Voom" and its B-side, the tremendous Ziggy Stardust
rip "Space Ace," but the rest of the originals are on par with these
two peaks: "Highty Tighty" speeds by on sleazy horns and a tight, sexy
rhythm; "April in Paris" has a foppish swagger like the best Marc Bolan, while "Pre-Columbian Love" kicks like a good T. Rex rocker; "Run for the Sun" is Roxy Music for the teen set; "Queen of Hearts" has a Baroque art pop spaciness that proves Smiley
was not just a keen alchemist, but was developing a voice of his own.
Though he continued to write and record demos over the years, he never had a chance to follow through on the promise of this LP, since after all the hype, it simply vanished. Fortunately, RPM has unearthed this buried treasure and, in doing so, proves that the legend surrounding Brett Smiley was not wrong.
Pretty good glam rock/pop record from 1974. If i'm in the mood for listening glam, this record is
always on the shortlist. If you like glam this is for you and you will love it.
Brett Smiley died january 8th in 2016 at age 60.
Frank mp3@320
heard the collection or the single will know what to expect, and will be delighted with what they get -- a fabulously fey, coyly campy, and smashingly swishy glam pop album; it's Bowie and Bolan filtered through Judy Garland and performed by the prettiest boy to sigh into a microphone in the '70s. These are precisely the ingredients for a cult classic, of course, but it's hardly something that would have burned up the charts, unless it hit at precisely the right moment and was sold to the hilt.
Smiley did have Andrew Loog Oldham, the man who sold the world the Rolling Stones in the '60s, behind him, producing his record, pushing his image, and selecting his material. Oldham
often had his finger on the pulse of pop currents and his genius was
promotion, but he was simply off here. He was a little late on the glam
bandwagon, he relied too heavily on Smiley's gorgeous visage, he bizarrely encouraged Smiley
to play up MOR and traditional pop links (he covers "Young at Heart,"
names one original "April in Paris," and adds "Over the Rainbow" to the
end of his cover of the Four Tops' "I Can't Help Myself"), and when it didn't sell, he jumped ship immediately.
To be frank, this music minces and swishes so much
and has so much old-fashioned theatricality that it's hard to see how it
would have been a big hit, no matter how pretty Smiley is or how catchy each of these songs are. But these are all the reasons why Breathlessly Brett
is a delight for obsessive glam fans and unrepentant pop record
collectors. It's the kind of record where even the bad moments -- and
there are undeniably silly patches -- have a kind of absurd charm, such
as ending a fizzy, trashy glitter-bubblegum album with "Young at Heart,"
or how Smiley
twists the words of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" to "You got that
something/You got that hand." But the real strength of the album is in Smiley's original songs. Prior to this, it seemed like he peaked early with "Va Va Va Voom" and its B-side, the tremendous Ziggy Stardust
rip "Space Ace," but the rest of the originals are on par with these
two peaks: "Highty Tighty" speeds by on sleazy horns and a tight, sexy
rhythm; "April in Paris" has a foppish swagger like the best Marc Bolan, while "Pre-Columbian Love" kicks like a good T. Rex rocker; "Run for the Sun" is Roxy Music for the teen set; "Queen of Hearts" has a Baroque art pop spaciness that proves Smiley
was not just a keen alchemist, but was developing a voice of his own.Though he continued to write and record demos over the years, he never had a chance to follow through on the promise of this LP, since after all the hype, it simply vanished. Fortunately, RPM has unearthed this buried treasure and, in doing so, proves that the legend surrounding Brett Smiley was not wrong.
Pretty good glam rock/pop record from 1974. If i'm in the mood for listening glam, this record is
Brett Smiley died january 8th in 2016 at age 60.
Frank mp3@320




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