Noah Smith isn’t interested in your genre boxes. With his latest EP, Cavaliers into Cadillacs, dropping November 1st, he’s tearing down the walls between country, rock, and everything in between. It’s a sonic joyride that’ll leave you questioning why we ever tried to separate these kindred spirits in the first place.

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“At 37, I feel like I’m finally trusting who I am as an artist,” Smith confesses, a hint of hard-won wisdom in his voice. “I’m allowing myself to be as honest as I need to be to tell whatever story that needs telling.” And boy does Cavaliers into Cadillacs have stories to tell.

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Take “Don’t Break My Fall,” the EP’s opening salvo. It’s a track that hits you like a shot of top-shelf whiskey—smooth going down but with a burn that lingers. “I know this is scary / And I know it’s going to hurt,” Smith croons, his voice a perfect blend of vulnerability and defiance. It’s the kind of song that makes you want to call up an old flame, only to remember why they’re old in the first place.

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“I’ve been getting traction in the country world as a songwriter and artist,” Smith muses, “but I’ve always had rock ‘n’ roll in my bones.” This duality isn’t just talk—it’s the very marrow of Cavaliers into Cadillacs. Nowhere is this more evident than in “Skinny Pedal on the Right,” a song born under the unlikely palms of Panama.

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“Right before we left for this trip, my teenage son told us he didn’t want us to go and that everything was just moving way too fast,” Smith recalls. The result is a track that perfectly captures the bittersweet momentum of watching your kids grow up, set against a backdrop of open roads and the constant pull between staying and going. “Buddy, sometimes you gotta go,” Smith told his son, distilling a lifetime of parental wisdom into five words that became the song’s emotional core.

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But the real heartbreaker of the EP might just be “Secondhand Heartbreak.” It’s a song that proves Smith isn’t just a songwriter—he’s a storyteller of the highest caliber. “When a secondhand heart breaks / It goes through the same pain / Gets burnt by the same flames,” he sings, reminding us that love’s collateral damage often spreads further than we realize. It’s the kind of track that’ll have you reaching for the phone to check on that friend who’s been a little too quiet lately.

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What sets Cavaliers into Cadillacs apart isn’t just its sound but the spirit in which it was created. This isn’t music made to climb charts or appease algorithms. It’s six tracks of pure, unfiltered humanity, captured in real-time by a group of friends who happen to be damn good musicians. “We got in the room and made music together as a live band,” Smith says with pride. “We did very little overdubs. Most of the songs are full live takes we captured together.”

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This raw approach isn’t just an artistic choice—it’s a reflection of Smith’s journey. He’s spent the last decade honing his craft in every setting imaginable, from home studios to Nashville sessions. He’s opened for Ashley McBryde and The Steve Miller Band, proving he can hold his own whether the crowd’s wearing cowboy boots or Converse. He’s even become a regular at the Nashville Nights International Songwriter Festival in Denmark because, apparently, Scandinavians know good American roots music when they hear it.

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But perhaps Smith’s most impressive feat is “Noah Smith’s Crooner Circus,” a monthly songwriter showcase that’s become a cornerstone of the Cincinnati music scene. It’s fostered relationships with over 300 songwriters and artists, creating a community that extends far beyond city limits. In a world of cut-throat competition, Smith’s building bridges and making music feel like a team sport again.​

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So forget everything you think you know about country, rock, or whatever they’re calling it these days. Noah Smith’s Cavaliers into Cadillacs reminds us that the best music doesn’t fit in neat little boxes. It spills over, makes a mess, and, if you’re lucky, leaves a stain you’ll never want to wash out.

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