"I wanna be your favorite girl / like it's a diorama / leaning on little plastic trees..."
The glowing, growing bedroom pop hybridic feel of "Diorama", by multifaceted artist Laila Smith, feels like diaristic impressions done up DIY style until it doesn't. It feels like a compelling intimate bedroom recording with plucky acoustic guitar and voice but about 20 seconds later it blossoms into sophisticated orchestrations, blends of chamber pop and indie rock and more. A sprinting distillation condensed into something like pop noir on high, like a home movie that turns into an abstract indie movie. Afterall, real life can feel like a surreal ride from time to time, right? If I were to be critical, I would say that it all happens too fast, that the song should be longer but, then, that's just me. There is really nothing to complain about at all.
LINER NOTES (bracketed) About "Diorama" from the artist:
[“For my single "Diorama," I've created a digital twin of the physical diorama featured in my album art—an explorable environment where fans manipulate a miniature version of me through rooms filled with objects from my personal history. Inspired by '90s FMV aesthetics and pre-platform internet art, the experience transforms psychological concepts into interactive elements—a leaking hydrant bleeds childhood memory into adult space, a glitching archive sorts trauma by impossible taxonomies, a mirror reflects versions of self that never existed.”]
AND
["My song plays from a vintage radio that responds to your movement through the space, creating this intimate audio landscape as you collect fragments of a Borromean knot (a metaphor for the complex construction of our psyches). After silencing the radio, a phone rings with a final message—completing this cycle of interaction that turns passive listening into something more ritualistic and strange. It's an attempt to reclaim digital space as somewhere strange and sacred rather than optimized and consumable.”]
["Diorama" gradually unveils a plucked acoustic guitar line. Smith embodies a striking duality in the song—its sunny, almost saccharine melody contrasts sharply with lyrics like, “And if I can’t be your favorite, I’ll learn to be less important. I’m just a figurine.”]
["Diorama was born out of a very confusing time in my life, a period of deep denial about the quiet collapse of my marriage. The song excavates the paradox of desire—we position ourselves as essential in someone's landscape while knowing any fixed arrangement is a kind of death. The warm tape saturation is attachment blurring the boundaries between subject and object, between curator and exhibit. We construct elaborate fantasies, yearning to be handled with tenderness while secretly plotting escape. The greatest tragedy isn't just the objectification, but our complicity in it—the small part that desperately craves to be reduced to something precious, contained, entirely knowable. The truth of intimate attachment is that all we desire is desire itself—not the messy reality of human connection."]
AND
["My song plays from a vintage radio that responds to your movement through the space, creating this intimate audio landscape as you collect fragments of a Borromean knot (a metaphor for the complex construction of our psyches). After silencing the radio, a phone rings with a final message—completing this cycle of interaction that turns passive listening into something more ritualistic and strange. It's an attempt to reclaim digital space as somewhere strange and sacred rather than optimized and consumable.”]
["Diorama" gradually unveils a plucked acoustic guitar line. Smith embodies a striking duality in the song—its sunny, almost saccharine melody contrasts sharply with lyrics like, “And if I can’t be your favorite, I’ll learn to be less important. I’m just a figurine.”]
["Diorama was born out of a very confusing time in my life, a period of deep denial about the quiet collapse of my marriage. The song excavates the paradox of desire—we position ourselves as essential in someone's landscape while knowing any fixed arrangement is a kind of death. The warm tape saturation is attachment blurring the boundaries between subject and object, between curator and exhibit. We construct elaborate fantasies, yearning to be handled with tenderness while secretly plotting escape. The greatest tragedy isn't just the objectification, but our complicity in it—the small part that desperately craves to be reduced to something precious, contained, entirely knowable. The truth of intimate attachment is that all we desire is desire itself—not the messy reality of human connection."]
The detail, both emotional and artistic runs so deep, is so thoughtful. Laila Smith has a lot to say as it relates to the human condition. A lot of times songwriters just play their songs live with little talk in between but I can envision a performance by this artist that has intimate discussions about how and why her songs play out like they do. At least that would be my hope. We will see.
Lovely stuff, lovely stuff indeed.
[The EP "Something Dreadful's Going To Happen" will be released first on a site made by the artist, which pairs each song with its own uncanny minigame, transforming personal narrative into collective ritual. The songs blur the line between folk confession and noise exploration, where quiet longing meets brash guitars and tracks threaten to unravel into charged discord before snapping back to arresting clarity. In the balance of strength and vulnerability, something new emerges on every listen.]
-Robb Donker Curtius
THE FACTS AS WE KNOW THEM
https://www.instagram.com/lailasmith/#
Laila Smith crafts haunted Americana that crackles at the edges of memory – intimate sonic worlds both deeply personal and culturally prescient. From precocious jazz singer (Kennedy Center, Tokyo Blue Note) to Harvard undergrad and labor organizer, to experimental artist recognized by the NYT, Smith emerges with "The Most Important Thing About Me Is That I Do My Best," a debut single that turns the daily grind into a fever dream captured on weathered tape machines and vintage electronics.
Her upcoming EP "Something Dreadful's Going To Happen" will be released first on a site made by the artist, which pairs each song with its own uncanny minigame, transforming personal narrative into collective ritual. The songs blur the line between folk confession and noise exploration, where quiet longing meets brash guitars and tracks threaten to unravel into charged discord before snapping back to arresting clarity. In the balance of strength and vulnerability, something new emerges on every listen.
Laila Smith, singer-songwriter, jazz singer, labor organizer, experimental artist, alt pop, bedroom pop, pop noir, EP "Something Dreadful's Going To Happen", "Diorama", multimedia artist,
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