I came across Myles Smith the same way a lot of people do these days — I wasn’t looking for him. He just showed up. I clicked out of curiosity, and within a minute I found myself thinking, this has the feel I’ve been missing. Not in a nostalgic “bring back the good old days” way, but in a way that reminded me of the singer-songwriters I grew up listening to in the 1970s. There was clarity in the writing, warmth in the delivery, and a straightforward honesty that doesn’t show up in a lot of modern production-heavy music.
If you grew up during the ’70s — or even if you’ve spent the last few decades revisiting that era — you know exactly what I mean. The greats of that decade didn’t rely on huge arrangements or endless studio tricks. They wrote songs that stuck with you because the words mattered. Cat Stevens could make you reflect on your life in three minutes. James Taylor made vulnerability feel steady and grounded. Jim Croce could tell a full story better than most novelists. Bill Withers made simplicity feel profound. And the early Eagles had a way of making acoustic music feel like sunlight.
So when an artist in 2025 brings back that kind of sincerity — without trying to imitate it — it stands out. And Myles Smith is doing exactly that.
The Roots of a Modern Singer-Songwriter
Before jumping into the comparisons, it’s worth understanding where Myles comes from, because his background explains a lot about his approach. He grew up in Luton and talks openly about how that shaped him:
“It was the joy that music brought everyone around me that truly inspired me to want to explore it myself… Growing up in Luton… I think it’s a big reason why I have such a diverse sound today.”
That diversity shows up in his music. You hear elements of folk, pop, acoustic soul, and even a little rock. None of it feels forced — it just reflects the environment he grew up in. He’s also talked about how he didn’t quite fit the mold of what kids around him were doing:
“I grew up in a working-class neighbourhood, in a Jamaican family — so my interest in rock and screamo, and not being able to play football and rugby, instantly put me in a different category to my peers.”
That sense of being on the outside looking in is something a lot of the ’70s legends shared. It creates perspective. It creates stories. It creates a point of view.
And then there’s the part of his journey that really lines up with the older generation:
“I’ve been playing since I was 10–11 years old… playing pub gigs, open mics and playing to absolutely nobody…”
That’s the real foundation of a songwriter. Rooms where nobody’s paying attention build honesty into the work. They teach you how to write songs that hold up when the production disappears.
Myles Smith & Cat Stevens: The Thoughtful Wanderers
Cat Stevens made a career out of reflective songwriting that felt grounded and intentional. He didn’t overwhelm you with arrangements. He wrote songs that let the message do the work. Myles Smith leans into a similar approach. When you hear “Stargazing,” it has the same understated quality you find in Stevens’ “The Wind.” Both songs rely on a single guitar, a steady vocal, and the idea that simplicity often carries the most weight.
One of the biggest overlaps between these two artists is how they use space. Stevens was a master at letting silence matter — he didn’t crowd the mix, and he didn’t fill every second with sound. Myles does the same in “Stargazing.” You hear restraint. You hear someone who understands that not every emotion needs a dramatic lift or a giant chorus.
“All The Love We Had” aligns naturally with “Wild World.” Both songs explore the end of a relationship through a lens of acceptance rather than melodrama. They don’t try to villainize anyone. They just acknowledge the truth of the situation and move on. In the 1970s, that kind of writing helped Stevens stand apart from other artists his age. Today, it’s part of what makes Myles feel like a welcome return to form.
What really connects these two is perspective. Both write from a place that feels lived-in. There’s no performance of emotion — just emotion itself. The tone is reflective, steady, and clear. And even though Myles has never claimed Stevens as an influence, the parallel is obvious: both men write songs that stay with you because they’re honest.
Myles Smith & James Taylor: The Gentle Confessionalists
James Taylor’s best songs felt like he was letting you listen in on his thoughts. He didn’t try to shock you. He didn’t embellish the hard moments. He just said what needed to be said with a calm honesty. Myles brings that same spirit to several of his tracks, especially “Solo.” The tone and pacing feel very similar to Taylor’s “Fire and Rain.” Both songs say a lot by doing very little.
One thing Taylor mastered was vulnerability without intensity. He didn’t push the emotion; he let it come through naturally. Myles follows that same blueprint. “Solo” doesn’t need a big vocal lift or a dramatic key change — the message is clear because the writing is clear. It’s the kind of straightforward emotional songwriting that the 1970s was built on.
“Right Where You Left Me” lines up with “Carolina in My Mind.” Both songs sit in that space between longing and acceptance. There’s no desperation, just reflection. They’re the type of songs you can listen to late at night and actually feel understood. That was Taylor’s strength, and it’s quickly becoming one of Myles’ strengths too.
Myles also shares Taylor’s ability to make the personal feel universal. You don’t have to know every detail of his life to connect with the message — the emotion speaks plainly enough. That’s a rare skill today, and it’s one of the clearest connections between Myles and the 1970s sound.
Myles Smith & Jim Croce: The Everyday Storytellers
Jim Croce had a way of turning life’s small moments into something worth singing about. His songs were relatable because they were rooted in everyday situations. Myles taps into that same instinct. “Once” mirrors the conversational storytelling you hear in Croce’s “Operator.” Both songs use clean, direct writing to walk the listener through an emotional moment without hiding behind complicated metaphors.
Croce understood rhythm in language. His songs had a natural flow — like someone telling you a story over coffee. Myles shows that same skill in “Once,” where the pacing and delivery create an easy connection with the listener. It doesn’t try to be poetic for the sake of poetry. It’s honest, clear, and human.
“Blinded” also connects well with Croce’s “I’ll Have to Say I Love You in a Song.” Both tracks deal with love in a way that feels grounded. They don’t dramatize emotion — they clarify it. There’s strength in that kind of songwriting, and it’s part of why Croce’s music still resonates today. Myles is operating in that same lane.
Another parallel is how both artists write songs that feel self-contained. You don’t need a backstory. You don’t need context. The song gives you exactly what you need. That’s harder to do than people realize, and it’s one of the clearest signs of a songwriter who understands the value of simplicity.
Myles Smith & Bill Withers: The Minimalists With Maximum Honesty
Bill Withers was one of the greatest minimalists in music. He could take a simple idea, pair it with a clean melody, and create a timeless song. Myles shares that approach — not in vocal tone, but in philosophy. His song “Safe” has the same stripped-back honesty you hear in Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine.” The arrangement is small, the delivery is unforced, and the emotion comes through naturally.
Another overlap is clarity. Withers wrote plainly. He didn’t complicate feelings. “Looking for You” carries that same sense of straightforward honesty that shows up in “Lovely Day.” Both songs are approachable and uplifting without trying too hard to be either.
What really connects these two artists is trust — trust in the song, trust in the melody, and trust in the message. Withers never felt the need to load up his arrangements with extra production. Myles approaches his writing with the same confidence. When the message is strong enough, you don’t need anything more than a voice and a guitar.
This comparison also highlights Myles’ maturity as a songwriter. Many younger artists lean heavily on production to carry their songs. Myles does the opposite. He lets the song lead, and the arrangement follows. That’s a very Bill Withers approach to making music.
Myles Smith & Early Eagles (Glenn Frey): The Breezy Acoustic Hitmakers
The early Eagles created a sound that felt easy and warm without ever being shallow. Glenn Frey had a way of writing songs that made you feel like you were traveling someplace — even if you were sitting still. Myles channels that same feeling in tracks like “Right Where You Left Me,” which shares the relaxed, open-hearted energy of “Peaceful Easy Feeling.” Both songs move gently and confidently without ever pushing.
“Rivers” mirrors the steady forward motion of “Take It Easy.” Not in melody, but in spirit. Both songs create momentum without rushing. They’re grounded, clean, and centered around the idea that uncomplicated songwriting can still be meaningful.
Another clear connection is how both artists balance melancholy with optimism. The Eagles did this exceptionally well in their early work — acknowledging life’s struggles without getting lost in them. Myles does the same. His songs often deal with longing or reflection, but they still carry a sense of hope and direction.
What ties Myles most closely to the early Eagles is confidence in simplicity. He doesn’t overproduce his acoustic work, and he doesn’t try to fill every second of the track. He trusts the chord progression and the vocal to carry the feeling. That’s the same approach that made the Eagles’ early catalog timeless.
Where Myles Smith Overlaps with Shaboozey: Different Paths, Same Roots
At first glance, Myles Smith and Shaboozey don’t seem like artists you’d compare. Their sounds belong to different corners of modern music. But once you strip away the production, they share something important: a foundation built on storytelling, acoustic instruments, and genuine emotion. Both artists draw from the 1970s in their own way.
Myles fits into the softer acoustic lane — the Cat Stevens, James Taylor, Jim Croce lineage. Shaboozey taps into the rougher side — the Waylon Jennings, outlaw country, rugged Americana lane. But the foundation is identical: say something real and keep the writing honest.
Myles might approach that with tenderness, while Shaboozey approaches it with grit, but the root system is the same. They’re both part of a broader return to songwriting that has identity and clarity — qualities that defined the 1970s more than any genre label ever could.
That’s why their music resonates with younger listeners, older listeners, and anyone tired of overly engineered pop. They write like human beings. And people respond to that.
Why Myles Smith Works So Well Today
We’re in a moment where people are craving authenticity again. You can hear it across genres — folk, country, pop, indie — and Myles fits perfectly into that shift. His music doesn’t sound like it’s trying to compete with every trend happening online. It sounds like he’s focused on writing good songs and letting them speak for themselves.
He said it best:
“Why I write music is like my own personal stories and experiences, but if people can walk away with something that they see themselves in, that’s such a privilege.”
That’s the core of 1970s songwriting: honest stories written clearly enough that other people can see themselves inside them.
Myles brings that spirit into the modern world without feeling like a throwback. His influences may not be from vinyl records or FM radio, but the values he brings to his writing line up perfectly with the era I grew up loving.
Final Thoughts
I didn’t go searching for another modern artist who reminded me of the 1970s. But Myles Smith showed up, and the connection was obvious — not because he’s imitating anyone, but because he writes with the same combination of honesty, clarity, and musical warmth that defined the best parts of that decade.
His songs feel familiar without feeling recycled. They feel simple in a way that takes real craft. And they feel grounded in a way that’s getting harder to find in today’s music landscape.
Whether he knows it or not, Myles is carrying forward the same spirit that made the ’70s one of the greatest eras in music history. And for someone like me — who grew up with that music in my bones — it’s nice to hear it again, done well.
