WRITTEN BY DEL HENDRICK
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Speaking the thoughts of a generation whose attachment styles have been skewered by the marriage of technology into their daily lives, Sarah Smith gets honest about wanting security while simultaneously being scared of it on her new single “Point of No Return.” Smith delivers a darker, electro-pop track that is bold and unafraid of being exactly what it is: a complicated mixture of recession-pop that attempts to shift into an escape but, in that escape, gives way to the reality of Smith’s anxieties.
As a musician, she pulls back the curtain on the overexposed feelings. Each metaphorical bruise left by the pain of falling too hard is on display for listeners to relate to. The ‘fight or flight’ feeling of developing feelings you suddenly can’t let go of is completely nerve-wracking, and Sarah Smith expertly softens none of her blows. What she feels, we also feel in full.
The song starts fast, Smith’s voice invading the beat seamlessly with uniquely beautiful inflection. Her sound is direct, sure of itself, until she dives into the chorus and it shifts into a lighter tone as if she’s emulating nerves as she asks, “What do you want from me?”
Not only is this song charged with muddled desire, but it’s also telling the story of self-sabotage. In the indecision between being chosen by someone and keeping a distance from the intimacy that frightens her, Smith wavers between giving in to either. The claustrophobic nature of being on the edge of a decision that alters a relationship is clear in the song’s instrumentals, the singer’s stressed emphasis on syllables and the tempo moving quickly enough to emulate a downward spiral or panic attack.
“I’m a walking, smoking gun,” she sings, pointing out the ways in which her attachment carries the potential of hurting other people. Self-aware and poignant, “Point of No Return” doesn’t fall into the trap of romanticizing or brushing over attachment styles. Smith is careful not to reduce the reality of her emotions. The words “I’m your favorite girl who’s always in duress” usher in the chorus, presenting an indecisive, almost conflicting view of herself when put into context with her other lyrics.
Toward the end, vocals overlap, further providing the illusion of incomplete thoughts interrupted by impulses in either direction — commit or leave, hold everyone at arms length or let them in? Each of her breaths between lyrics is audible, lending the song a vulnerability that feels beautifully incidental.
Sarah Smith’s second single is brilliantly unmanageable with lyrics that cut and a seismic backing track that pulls you into its nervous sphere. Like the way attachment styles function, this song keeps you in its orbit and makes it hard to step away.
