Occasionally I get mentioned in reviews, here is a collection of some lovely things that some people have said. (I left out the negative ones to save my ego...)

Smith develops his chords, improvises. The intensity builds. He is lost in his keys. He starts to sing, a voice easy on the ear, but conveying intense emotion: “When you’re here, I’m nowhere,” a simple lyric, repeated. The chords change, the style changes and the same lyrics take on other shades of meaning.

Each audience member will experience this piece differently, a salute to the intense subjectivity of the world of music. Smith presents it and his audience must take on the raw experience and a slightly voyeuristic sensation with an intimacy and ambiguity that may be encompassing, trigger a fly-on-the-wall response or even exclude them from the performance. The strength of this piece lies in its openness to subjective engagement.”
When You’re Here, I’m Nowhere is a beautiful, dramatic explosion of emotion and music. It’s up to the audience to decide what it’s all about, while they’re soaked, heart to skin, in incredible sound.
The gorgeously explosive When You’re Here, I’m Nowhere, performed by its composer, Brett Smith, on a piano made even grander by its subterranean cranny, was like something by Syd Barrett or John Cale.
Brett Smith’s sound design alternates between subtle notes, right on the edge of awareness, enhancing the feelings expressed and amplifying the uneasiness in the spectator, and bombastically cheesy love songs and classic symphonic selections that tie in with the narrative and its various twists.
— http://performing.artshub.com.au/news-article/reviews/performing-arts/nerida-dickinson/the-eisteddfod-254010
Brett Smith’s sound design works with the constantly changing series of movements as well as making the most of the open air atmosphere. While the sound of rain makes many audience members look up, the highlight is using the courtyard’s muddy acoustics to create a thudding heartbeat, morphing into an industrial grinding pound, reverberating against the walls and enfolding us in a cocoon of aural experience. With the movement on stage and the insistent pounding of the beat, audience are drawn into a sense of participation with the approaches and rejections of the dancers.
— http://www.australianstage.com.au/201504217253/reviews/perth/mouseprint.html
Ambient sound design adds to the progression of events...As with the lighting, the finale allows the acoustic atmosphere to shift and become bombastic with the sting in the play’s tail.
— http://performing.artshub.com.au/news-article/reviews/performing-arts/venus-in-fur-246957
Image: Gary Marsh

Image: Gary Marsh

“Brett Smith shines on the tenor sax, and it would be worth seeking out his non-theatre musical endeavours for more...”
— http://perthartslive.com/2016/02/07/review-this-boys-in-love-the-man-and-the-moon/
Brett Smith’s sound design complements a developing sense of drama, twanging strings maintaining a grounded, earthy feel that keeps large-scale industrial sound effects from overwhelming all other elements.
— https://www.australianstage.com.au/201501157079/reviews/perth/prime-cuts-%7C-strut-dance.html
Image:  Emma Fishwick
Enigmatic, twisting, tenebrous and sensual, a man’s body conspires with ravaging sound, stark lighting and grim projections on a back-wall screen to deliver an experience impossible to forget.
— https://thewest.com.au/entertainment/arts-reviews/emotional-psychological-assault-ng-ya-365510
The technical aspects are given their rightful dues here, as the timing and positioning has to be impeccable to deliver the creepy sensations of Welcome to Slaughter. Joe Lui’s lighting design does not so much illuminate as develop an intricate system of shadows, combining with Brett Smith’s deliberately-paced sound design to trigger fight or flight responses even in the middle of the audience.
— http://performing.artshub.com.au/news-article/reviews/performing-arts/nerida-dickinson/welcome-to-slaughter-246200
Brett Smith has produced a pumping, eerie soundtrack, that ranged from a couple of decibels to 120 dBs – that of a plane taking off. The creepy voiceovers make you shudder; this really was an amazing soundscape.
— http://www.ita.org.au/2014/10/welcome-to-slaughter-reviewed-by-gordon-the-optom/