When I first saw John Smith back in 2007 he strolled onstage with an acoustic guitar, took a seat, threw his head back and sang the first verse of the self-penned murder ballad Axe Mountain without accompaniment and with the whisky and cigarettes vocals of a man a good 40 years older than he looked (I’d have guessed mid-20s). That night he delivered a set that featured some of the greatest acoustic guitar playing I’d ever seen. Back in 2003, Smith had been named Young Acoustic Guitarist of the Year. John Renbourn had called him ‘The future of acoustic music in this country’ and he’d opened for John Martyn at the Roundhouse earlier in ‘07– there are significant comparisons, in style, and a tacit refusal to drop neatly into that category marked ‘folk music’. All I knew was he’d blown me away and I wanted to hear more. A year later, I interviewed Smith for Article Magazine on his return to Barton’s Ropery Hall and asked him about his unique guitar style, who insp
Nick Triplow on books, films and music