Dr. Smith & the Night Shift Prescribe Healing Through Grief on "House Call"

Alt-rock has always thrived on tension, the push and pull between beauty and chaos, light and shadow, fragility and strength. With their debut EP, House Call, Dr. Smith & the Night Shift lean straight into that friction, delivering a body of work that feels both haunting and restorative. It’s not just music you play loud, it’s music that stitches something back together.

The project is helmed by Allison Scagliotti, yes, the actor you know from TV, but also the creative mind behind La Femme Pendu, who’s stepping into yet another reinvention with this band. The name Dr. Smith & the Night Shift is a nod to her father, an ER physician in New Orleans, and you can feel that influence woven through the record. There’s urgency here, like a 3 a.m. triage for the heart, but also quiet resilience that only comes from surviving the long nights.

The EP opens with the title track “House Call,” a song that wastes no time setting the tone, gritty, soulful, and sharp-edged, where the guitars bite and shimmer like static in the dark. From there, “Over It” ups the pulse with punk-inspired swagger, turning emotional exhaustion into something defiant and strangely freeing. And then comes “Year of the Horse,” a sprawling, cinematic closer that balances raw nerve with wide-open atmosphere, as if galloping headlong into grief and coming out the other side scarred but still standing.

Holding it all together is a lineup that knows exactly when to lean in and when to pull back. Producer Phil Leavitt (dada, 7Horse) drives the rhythm section with Joie Calio on bass, while Darice Bailey’s keys and Nick Maybury’s lead guitar slice the air with both bite and beauty. It’s alt-rock built with intention but played with raw instinct, giving Scagliotti’s songwriting the backbone it deserves.

Lyrically, the record doesn’t sugarcoat grief; it stares it down. Instead, she finds catharsis in the delivery, as if the act of naming the pain is its own medicine. True to the record’s ER-inspired title, every lyric feels like emotional first aid, suturing hurt into something survivable.

“To hurt is human, to heal is ideal,” Scagliotti has said of the project, and that ethos bleeds through every note. House Call doesn’t pretend to cure heartbreak. It just acknowledges the wound, applies the sonic bandage, and hands it back to you lighter than before.

As far as debuts go, this one lands fully formed. With “House Call,” “Over It,” and “Year of the Horse” working in unison, Dr. Smith & the Night Shift don’t just introduce themselves; they set the bar high. It’s a record that proves alt-rock can still haunt, heal, and hold space for the hardest parts of being human. And if this is only the beginning, they’ve got plenty more to say.

House Call draws on themes of grief and healing. What personal experiences shaped these songs? Joni Mitchell said, “If you see me in my songs and wonder about my life, then I’m not doing a good job. If you see yourself, then I’m doing what I was meant to do.” This is a creative standard I live by. The collection of joys and pains that fill the well of songwriting for me is only the jumping-off point. I made these songs to serve as antidotes and elixirs for the people who hear them. Use as needed, for what ails you.

The band features players from dada and 7Horse. How did this collaboration influence the sound of the EP? In my long, strange musical journey, I've had the honor of some pretty legendary collaborations. I started playing with 7Horse three years ago, when they were looking for a rhythm guitarist who could also hold down vocal harmonies. Phil (Leavitt) and I connected right away through the language of showbiz and the endless hustle of riding the waves of change in a hostile industry. I'd been working in solitude as La Femme Pendu for so long that the camaraderie of the band environment lit up my creativity in a completely different way. I started writing outside my comfort zone, and when Phil said he was interested in producing for me, I held him to it. We cut the three songs on this EP as a live band, as analog as it gets. The trio of songs rendered by the unique tastes of all the players, combined with the warmth of Station House studio, was the result of a healing experience.

Why was it important for you to name the project in tribute to your father and his night shift work? A couple of years back, my dad and I walked into one of his neighborhood haunts. Everyone at the bar turned and said, “Hey, Doc.” That’s the moment that captures the entire essence of this project, for me. Being seen and known may be as terrifying as a night in the ER, but it also might save your life. My dad made a difference in people’s lives with scrubs on; I’m trying to do my version of it with a guitar. 

Each track feels cinematic. Was there a visual world you imagined while writing House Call? A big part of my songwriting process is informed by my background as a dramatic performer. I like to imagine a time, place, climate, even fabrics and flavors in the construction of the sonic environment. For House Call, I had the distinct vision of the old west: the saloon at closing time, a hot day turning into cool nights, snakebites and brown leather, a crimson stain blooming under cloth bandages. When I went hunting the Rose Bowl Flea Market for the perfect doctor bag for the album cover and found it within half an hour, I knew I was on the right track. 

What do you hope listeners carry with them after sitting with this EP from start to finish?

The only path to healing is through the pain, and no one does it alone. There’s that analogy about grief as a stone in your pocket; it’ll never get lighter, but you’ll get stronger as you carry it. There’s medicine in music and the people you share it with. Keep going, keep going, keep going.