If you’re the kind of listener who prefers their music unpredictable, uncompromising, and unapologetically analog, Maverick Smith’s latest offering, We Make Fire, They Make Smoke, is your next essential listen. Coming less than a year after their debut full-length, this album doesn’t just build on what came before; it breaks it down, burns it, and rebuilds it from the ashes with more grit, more risk, and more creative fire.
Right from the start, you can tell this isn’t an album trying to play it safe or fit neatly into genre boundaries. Maverick Smith charts an ambitious course through rock’s many forms; alt, indie, blues, southern, math, even a little orchestral; without ever losing their identity. This is a record that embraces contradictions: modern and vintage, tight and loose, chaotic and intentional. It’s music that feels like it was made in a garage filled with good ideas, bad decisions, and a whole lot of smoke.
The opening track, “Sinking Feeling,” sets the tone with its moody, blues-laced groove. It simmers instead of explodes; more slow-burn than barn-burner; but it hooks you with raw emotion and fuzzed-out elegance. It’s the kind of song that plays during the end credits of a noir film where no one really wins, but everyone learns something the hard way.
From there, we’re thrown into “Open Up Your Mind,” a swirling, string-drenched indie number that feels almost cinematic. There’s something deeply nostalgic about the arrangement; like a ‘60s pop song remixed by a modern dream-pop band; but it never leans too heavily on sweetness. It floats, it aches, and then it’s gone.
Things take a heavier turn on “Feel It Back,” a track that brings the swagger and stomp. It’s thick with groove and distortion, calling to mind early Black Keys with a bigger, sharper bite. The drums hit hard, the riffs snarl, and you can practically hear the sweat flying off the studio walls. It’s the kind of song that demands to be played live, preferably loud and in a room that smells vaguely of spilled beer and soldering iron.
But the album’s real left turn; and perhaps its smartest; is “Too Smart Too Dumb,” a razor-sharp indie rocker with math-rock undercurrents. It’s smart without being pretentious, funny without being gimmicky. The lyrics walk a line between existential dread and postmodern eye-rolling, and the guitar work keeps you guessing the whole time. It’s easily one of the most unique tracks on the album and a highlight of their evolving style.
Closing things out is “So What Who Cares,” a southern rock-infused slow burner that fuses alt-country defiance with emotional resonance. It’s gritty, unvarnished, and deeply human; like Tom Petty if he grew up listening to Nirvana. But this isn’t lo-fi for the sake of trendiness; it’s a philosophy. Maverick Smith’s commitment to recording everything live, using real instruments, and keeping the raw energy intact gives the album a beating heart that’s impossible to fake.
What also makes We Make Fire, They Make Smoke stand out is its refusal to settle into a pattern.
Just when you think you’ve figured out what kind of band Maverick Smith is, they twist, shift, or completely detour into another sound. And yet it all holds together because of the consistency in tone and attitude. There’s a thread running through every track: a restless energy, a love of craft, and a fearless approach to songwriting that embraces experimentation without losing accessibility.
If their debut was a strong first impression, this sophomore album feels like a statement of purpose. Maverick Smith isn’t here to follow formulas; they’re here to light a match and see what happens. And fortunately for us, what happens is some of the most compelling, unpredictable, and authentically exciting rock music you’re likely to hear this year.
We Make Fire, They Make Smoke is more than just a clever title; it’s a mission statement, a declaration of intent from a band that refuses to be easily categorized. Maverick Smith isn’t here to replicate the sounds of their influences or ride the wave of a passing trend. Instead, they’re carving out a space entirely their own, one track at a time, with blistered fingers, analog tape, and a trail of sonic smoke that lingers long after the last note fades.
There’s grit in every guitar tone, purpose behind every stylistic pivot, and a palpable sense that this isn’t just music; it’s a process of combustion. Fire, in this context, isn’t destruction. It’s transformation. And Maverick Smith uses it to torch expectations and forge something that feels rare in today’s algorithm-fed music ecosystem: honest, handmade rock that takes risks without sacrificing emotional impact. For fans of rock that dares to be unpredictable, rough around the edges, and deeply felt, We Make Fire, They Make Smoke by Maverick Smith isn’t just worth a listen; it demands one.
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About the Author
A tenured media critic known working as a ghost writer, freelance critic for publications in the US and former lead writer of Atop The Treehouse. Reviews music, film and TV shows for media aggregators.
