But there's a nagging undercurrent of verisimilitude here, making these lapdoggish tunes into gnawers. (I've Told You Now, gasps the tracklisting with disbelief.) Your maiden aunt might well find plenty to like in these soulful outings.

'I don't care for gold,' notes Smith again on Leave Your Lover, where Smith sets out his stall to the object of his hitherto hidden desire. 'For a moment I believed you loved me too,' aches Smith on Good Thing, in which he recounts a dream of being mugged on his beloved's doorstep. 'When you call me baby, I know I'm not the only one,' husks Smith on I'm Not the Only One. Leave Your Lover, beg the song titles, Stay With Me. Smith, by contrast, is all about secret, unrequited love.

(Spoiler alert: this is not a party album.) For anyone still confused, Newman is the guy who had the brain tumour, whose album pays tribute to the northern soul of his mum's record collection. It's a compellingly meta song, too – about being signed, about writing to order and pulling against the puppeteer's strings.Ĭasual pop observers might have previously been forgiven for confusing Sam Smith with John Newman – both are young, tall, bequiffed, with ordinary guy names who first found fame as featured vocalists – but Smith finally stamps his own identity with In the Lonely Hour. But there is something about Smith's delivery on Money on My Mind – the calf-like dolefulness, coupled with the pinpoint digitals, the melismatic falsetto, one imbued with a real lightness of touch – that stops you well short of scorn. Such is the gold rush to fame, it is impossible to take pop talk about cash at face value. It's easily the best song on the album, combining Smith's wounded vocal with a snappy production by Two Inch Punch. With its graphs and pie charts, the lyric video is better than the official one, in which the long-coated Smith looks pained in Las Vegas. Like Jessie J's Price Tag, that No 1 – Money on My Mind – claims that Smith isn't motivated by filthy lucre.

In the lonely hour album art