One of the most striking things about TV Smith is that, beneath the punk credentials, the sharp commentary and the relentless solo performances, he remains first and foremost a songwriter.

In this conversation, Smith looks back on the formative pull of music, from childhood Beatles records and air-guitar enthusiasm to the discovery that words and music together could create something far more powerful than either could alone. Poetry came first, but songwriting became the place where those instincts fused.  

From Words to Songs

Before The Adverts, before London and before punk had even settled on a name for itself, Smith was already writing.

His early band Sleaze, formed while he was at art college in Torquay, reflected the stranger edges of glam rock: Bowie, Roxy Music, Cockney Rebel. But even then, the band was essentially a vehicle for his songs. That pattern would continue through The Adverts, The Explorers, Cheap, and eventually into his solo work.  

Smith describes songwriting not as a fixed process, but as a conversation between melody and language. A line might unlock a tune; a tune might pull the next lyric into place. There is no formula — only sitting down, starting, and seeing what happens.

Into London, Into Punk

By the mid-1970s, Torquay felt too small for what Smith wanted to do. The local scene was dominated by cover bands, while reports from London hinted at something sharper, faster and more urgent.

The Ramones’ debut album made an immediate impression. So did the early stories of the Sex Pistols. Smith recognised that whatever was happening in London was much closer to the music he wanted to make than anything available to him in Devon. So he moved, formed The Adverts, and quickly found himself at the centre of the emerging punk scene.  

By January 1977, The Adverts were playing the Roxy Club — one of the key rooms in the early London punk explosion.

Gary Gilmore’s Eyes

The conversation naturally turns to Gary Gilmore’s Eyes, the song that gave The Adverts their most famous hit.

Smith explains that the song grew out of the tabloid coverage of Gary Gilmore’s execution and organ donation. Rather than simply exploit the horror of the story, Smith twisted the media’s own bad taste back on itself, turning the premise into something dark, satirical and unsettling.  

What’s easy to miss, especially at first glance, is the sensitivity behind the writing. The song is provocative, but it isn’t careless. It uses shock as a way of exposing the ugliness of how the story was being packaged and consumed.

Top of the Pops and the Unwelcome Guests

For all punk’s outsider status, Smith was not precious about television exposure.

He had grown up discovering artists through Top of the Pops, and when The Adverts had the opportunity to appear, he took it. But the experience itself made clear just how out of place punk still was within mainstream entertainment. Smith recalls the artificiality of the set, the awkward staging, and the sense that the band were very much unwanted guests — there only because the record had entered the charts.  

Going Solo

One of the biggest turning points came not with a new band, but with stepping away from bands altogether.

Encouraged by Atilla the Stockbroker, Smith tried performing solo — just himself, a guitar and the songs. At first, the idea terrified him. But once he experienced the directness of it, the eye contact, the immediacy and the lack of anywhere to hide, it became addictive.  

That directness is still central to what he does now.

Why Small Venues Matter

A major theme of the conversation is the power of small rooms.

Smith speaks warmly about Barnoldswick Music & Arts Centre, describing it as one of his favourite venues after just one visit. For him, the smaller venue offers something that large-scale concerts often lose: genuine contact between performer and audience.  

In an age where algorithms recommend music and stadium audiences watch performers on screens, Smith still believes the real test of music is whether it connects in the room. A small audience leaves no hiding place, but that is precisely what makes it meaningful.

Lockdown, Survival and New Songs

The conversation also touches on Smith’s lockdown album, written after both he and his partner became seriously ill in March 2020.

With tours cancelled and normal life suspended, he found himself writing song by song, processing illness, isolation and the uncertainty of the moment. The result was a body of work shaped directly by the experience of living through something frightening, strange and historically unique.  

Still Writing, Still Watching

Looking ahead, Smith talks about new material, future touring, Rebellion Festival, and plans to take an Australian version of The Adverts on the road.

But perhaps the clearest thread running through the whole conversation is this: TV Smith has never stopped paying attention.

To politics. To people. To rooms. To language. To the strange, funny, bleak and hopeful details of modern life.

Decades after punk first broke through, he remains what he always was: a songwriter using music as a way to tell the truth from ground level.