22nd May 2026
Christopher Nosnibor
After last summer’s Saving Lilibet EP, Chess Smith continues her march back toward life-reclamation and self-possession with another slice of sparse yet crisp pop with intensely personal, autobiographical lyrics, in the form of ‘I’m Dead to You (And That’s OK)’.
It’s worth quoting the statement which accompanies the release, as it not only articulates the song’s meaning beyond the lyrics, but it’s an incredibly bold insight into an experience which few would be willing to articulate – and, essentially, she recognises that her experiences possesses a relatability. As I often say, within the personal lies the universal:
The single explores the very relatable fallout that occurs when relationships break down – and how women in particular often suffer the loss of friendships, support networks, and even their careers, as sides are taken, battle lines are drawn, and the people who you thought you could trust show their true colours… The people who you gave so much of yourself to, only for them to treat you like you never existed – or worse, tear you down, and drag your name through the mud.
More importantly though, I’m Dead to You is about turning these often painful realisations into positive self-affirmations – those people were never your friends… so don’t waste your energy missing something that you never truly had, and instead be happy that they’re no longer part of your life. Take away their power, take back your name, and eventually they’ll be consumed by their own toxicity… just as surely as they once tried to consume you.
While I can in no way claim to have experienced a precisely parallel journey, the loss of my wife at the age of 44, leaving me as a single parent with a ten-year-old daughter taught me lessons I had never expected. For example, when everyone says in the first couple of weeks ‘if there’s anything you need’ or makes some comment about keeping in touch, either they’re just saying it to fill the conversational space and sense of obligation, or they mean it until after the funeral, when everything returns to normal -at least for them. Supposedly close friends evaporate, and fast.
‘Took a break to give myself time,’ she begins her story, and we know straight away that this is a straight narrative. Some of the words are lost in the rush of energy and autotune, but the sentiment is clear: she’s not going to dwell on the people who don’t bother. Life’s too short, and friendship is a two-way street. It certainly shouldn’t be the one who’s experienced a major life event who should have to reach out and beg.
It may be that those ‘friends’ go about their lives in the assumption that if the persons doesn’t ‘reach out’ that they’re ok, but that demonstrates a lack of understanding. It’s much harder to ‘reach out’ in a time of crisis than it is to check in on someone who’s in the midst of one. So what do you do? Sink or swim. It’s not easy to cast off the people you’ve ached to hear from but who seem deaf to any previous intimations of struggle. But that is the only way to stay afloat. Grow a thicker skin. Fuck ‘em.
The fact that ‘I’m Dead to You’ is delivered as a bubbly, energetic, uptempo, and really quite busy pop tune is a double-edged: on the one side, there’s possibly an element of masking the anguish of abandonment beneath a polished pop surface, but on the other, and this is the top side, it’s a sassy celebration of empowerment, of cutting loose, separating from the wheat from the chaff, and recognising who your real friends are.
AA
Aural Aggravation 