Patti Smith at Somerset House: Better, wiser and more impactful than ever
It’s tough to put a finger on what it is that Patti Smith embodies. No labels seem to do her, or the energy she carries, justice. She’s the Godmother of Punk, a title earned by her inimitable and incomparable musicality that boomed to recognition on the CBGB scene. But she’s also a punk poet, someone forever blurring the lines between academics and pure, fiery passion. She’s a novelist, an idol to so many and a figure that seems bestowed with so much respect and admiration that there’s now something saintlike about her. As she steps onto the stage at Somerset House, her show is more like a sermon—her crowd: unfaltering, dedicated disciples.
For other artists of Smith’s candour and status, their shows can often feel disconnected or forced. Sometimes, crowds are left with the impression that they’re almost intruding on the artist as their older age seems to make them reluctant. There’s sometimes the sense that this is just another night in another city doing another show, playing the same setlist and box-ticking their way through the hits. But with Smith, anyone who’s ever seen her can attest to the fact that every single one of her gigs feels special.
As soon as she emerges with a smile spread across her face, taking the time to mull to the front of the stage and wave wholeheartedly to her crowd, she immediately radiates this aura of pure joy. While standing in the audience, there is a vivid feeling of privilege that we’re seeing this legend in action, but from where Smith stands; she seems to feel it too, never taking her followers for granted and never getting tired of seeing them.
With older artists, there can also be the trickiness of watching them fade and struggle to keep up with their own music. But for Smith, she genuinely sounds better than she has in years. I’ve been lucky to see her twice before, in 2018 and 2021. But without a shadow of a doubt, this show, in 2024, while she is 77 years old, is the best performance of hers I’ve seen.
As she dives right into ‘Summer Cannibals’, Smith is buzzing with energy, swaggering around with her mic stand, fist-pumping the air and delivering a vocal performance that retains all the power of the original performance.
Sure, some of her earliest tracks are taken down a key or are now performed more like poems, with ‘Redondo Beach’ given a spoken word makeover, but by and large, Smith’s performance is still full of life and enduring talent. Later on, during a huge climax in ‘Pissing In A River’, she’s kicking over mic stands or for a cover of ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’; she’s jumping up and down like the young punk she was and still is at heart.
But what makes Smith so special is less about her music and more about her as a person. Her position in the cultural world goes far beyond the impact of hits like ‘Because The Night’ or ‘Dancing Barefoot’, both of which are obviously received with huge excitement. But it’s bigger than that. Her followers are hungry for any single second of her. The crowd hushes to pin-drop silence every time she talks so they can hang off every word she delivers. She’s imbued with this indescribable quality of wisdom. She’s like a sage passing down musical knowledge in the form of a cover of the lesser-known Bob Dylan classic ‘Man In The Long Black Coat’ or knighting the next generation as she performs Lana Del Rey’s ‘Summertime Sadness’. She’s also not shy about getting heavy as she makes several comments regarding the treatment of Palestinian people, dedicating ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Peaceable Kingdom’ and ‘People Have The Power’ to the cause.
Yet, while looked up to like a prophet, there’s also something so beautifully human about her and the way she lets her crowd in. Her dedications to her late husband, Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith, have eyes watering and weeping. At the regular intervals where she stands to the side of the stage, simply to watch their son, Jackson Smith, carry on his father’s legacy by shredding through tracks, the love of a mother radiates so powerfully from the stage that it’s impossible not to be deeply moved. Even when she brings out The Clash’s Paul Simonon, the smile on her face as she hugs her peer and takes her bows is so genuine that all the crowd can do is smile back and hope she knows just what she means to them.
Florence Welch once sang of the artist, “Oh Patricia, you’ve always been my north star.” As Patti Smith rounds off her gig by imploring everyone to look up at the full moon glowing protectively over us all, we follow her instructions like worshipers following a word from God.
