Chess Smith: "Saving Lilibet isn't a sob story... it's a f**king battle cry"

Chess Smith has long been a force in the Kent music scene — a powerhouse voice of grit and grace, known for fronting Salvation Jayne and lighting up stages across the UK. But in 2020, her world collapsed after a traumatic experience with narcissistic abuse, leading to a full-blown nervous breakdown. What followed wasn’t silence, but transformation.

Her new solo EP, Saving Lilibet, is a bold, synth-laced alt-pop statement — a visceral, vulnerable, and unapologetically defiant reclaiming of voice and power. Produced by Fuji Hideout and packed with anthemic tracks like Bounce Back, Drama King and Disassociate, the record is already being hailed as a soundtrack of survival.

We caught up with Chess to talk about turning pain into power, finding strength in vulnerability, and why Saving Lilibet is more than music — it’s a mission.

You’ve described Saving Lilibet as a “battle cry” rather than a sob story — what did reclaiming that narrative mean for you, both personally and creatively?

That line — “Saving Lilibet isn’t a sob story, it’s a f**king battle cry” — actually came from Fame Magazine, but it really does sum up the EP perfectly! These songs were born out of the mental chaos of a nervous breakdown — of realising who my people are, and learning to see light through the dark. I'm a survivor of narcissistic abuse, and writing this was a fight to take my voice back. Reclaiming the narrative was powerful. It helped me move from victim to survivor — from silence to sound.

This EP channels incredibly personal pain into something powerful and anthemic. How did you balance vulnerability with strength when writing these tracks?I’ve always been an open-book kind of person — so for me, vulnerability and strength go hand-in-hand. Writing these songs came naturally because I was still crawling out of the storm that caused the breakdown. It was a fragile place to be in, but I wanted to use that fragility to help others. Vulnerability is strength. It's a lot harder to open up than to build walls — but walls only isolate you, and that’s the last thing you need when you’ve been through hell. I hope the EP encourages people to speak up, reach out, and find their tribe. If we all embraced our vulnerabilities a little more, I honestly think the world would be a much kinder place.

You've been a key voice in the Kent music scene for years — how has your relationship with your voice, both literally and metaphorically, evolved through this project?

Music’s always been my safe space — it’s where I’ve escaped to since I was a kid. But after everything I went through, I genuinely wasn’t sure I’d ever want to sing again. I’d had enough of the industry, of people trying to dull my shine. This project became part of a healing ritual — like burning a name in a fire pit. It was a reinvention. For a while I felt I didn’t fit anywhere anymore, but eventually I told myself, “No — this is your happy place. Reclaim it.” And I did. If Saving Lilibet can help even one person feel seen or heard, it’s all been worth it.

Many listeners may relate deeply to the themes of healing and rejecting toxicity — was it important for you to create something that could be both cathartic and empowering for others?

Absolutely. I’ve always written music that cuts through the noise and speaks directly to people. During my breakdown, I felt completely alone. Nobody around me seemed to understand what I was going through. That isolation was terrifying — so I wanted this EP to be something someone else could hear and go, “Ah, I’m not crazy. This is happening to me too.” Especially with covert abuse — it can mess with your sense of reality. I wanted to shine a light on that. If even one person listens to Saving Lilibet and decides to seek help, walk away, or start healing — that’s the real win.

With Saving Lilibet marking such a bold new chapter, what kind of legacy do you hope this EP leaves — for yourself, for survivors, and for your audience?

Empowerment. That’s the legacy I want — for anyone who’s been knocked down but is ready to rise again. It’s about learning to love yourself, know your worth, and protect your peace. I also hope it helps raise awareness about nervous breakdowns — so many people have them and don’t even realise it. These are the songs I wish I had when I was in the thick of it. Lilibet represents my lost inner self — but she’s also a queen. We all have one inside us. Or a king. This EP is about letting that part of you rise up, out of the darkness, and back into your own light.