Smug: The Sickness We Pretend Not to See

After lifting up the simple faithfulness of "Bannerman," Steve Taylor changes the mood sharply with "Smug," the third track on Squint.

If Bannerman is a tribute to humble courage, Smug is a blistering critique of pride — that subtle, poisonous self-satisfaction that sneaks even into the most outwardly righteous lives.

The song opens with a chilling image.

Taylor directs the listener like a photographer setting up a fake portrait. "Strike this little pose," he commands. Chin high, lips tight, nostrils flared. It is a posture of moral superiority, carefully performed.

The second verse only tightens the trap. Practicing a tear in the mirror, cultivating an air of sincere concern, crafting the right public image. Taylor is not just mocking vanity. He is exposing the ease with which pride dresses itself up as virtue. The chorus brings the accusation home.

"Hey mama, look at what your little babies all have become."

What might have started in innocence has grown into something distorted: vain, fickle, smug. Taylor asks if perhaps it would have been better if these children had never been born into such hypocrisy. The harshness of the line shocks, but it serves the song's purpose. Smugness is not a small character flaw. It is a rot at the root.

The reference to Rome burning is particularly potent.

While the world collapses, the smug are busy posing and posturing, congratulating themselves for their polished appearance or their clever politics. Pride makes us self-absorbed even in the face of disaster. Rather than turning outward to serve or repent, we become obsessed with our own image.

Musically, "Smug" is twitchy, edgy, and uncomfortable.

The stuttering beat and jagged delivery mirror the nervous energy of someone constantly adjusting their mask. There is a tension built into the sound itself, as if Taylor wants the listener to feel the falseness pressing in.

Theologically, Smug puts its finger on one of the Bible’s most consistent warnings.

Pride — not doubt, not weakness — is often the great enemy of spiritual health. Jesus reserves some of his harshest words for the Pharisees, whose outward righteousness masked inward decay. Taylor channels that same prophetic energy here, pulling no punches.

Placed after "Bannerman," "Smug" makes an important point.

It is not enough to be publicly religious. Faithfulness must flow from humility, not superiority. Witness without humility becomes hypocrisy. Conviction without love becomes cruelty. The simple believer with a banner is one thing. The self-satisfied believer, weaponizing morality for status, is quite another.

As Squint moves forward, Taylor will continue to challenge different cultural idols, but "Smug" plants an early warning. Before we look outward, we had better look inward first. Pride can disfigure even our best intentions. The next track, "Jesus is for Losers," will turn even more directly to the heart of the gospel. Taylor moves from exposing false righteousness to reminding us of the true foundation of grace.

This post is part of my series walking through Steve Taylor’s album “Squint.” An album that still speaks to the absurdities of our culture contrasted by the grace being offered us.