Hosted by Mangus Khan
[Vinyl hiss. A single piano note drops like a tear in water. Silence. Then:]
“Good evening, if it even is one.
This is Late Night Grooves, and I’m Mangus Khan.
You’re listening to WHOT—where the frequencies know your secrets.
And tonight… we’re not here for noise.
We’re here for something soft. Something sacred.
Bill Withers. “Make a Smile for Me.”
Now listen—most people only know Bill through the songs that became slogans.
“Lean on Me.” “Lovely Day.” Clean. Uplifting.
But this one?
This isn’t about leaning.
This is about barely standing.
This song lives in that space where the strong start to crack—but won’t ask for help out loud.
“If I lose my way, and my mind is gone… / Make a smile for me.”
You ever feel that?
That moment where you don’t need saving. You don’t even need fixing.
You just need someone to see you.
To send a little light back your way.
That’s what this song is.
It’s a candle flickering in a window you’re not sure anyone’s still watching.
And the way Bill sings it—
He’s not polished. He’s not dramatic.
He’s real.
And maybe that’s the thing about Bill Withers that hits hardest:
He never acted like the world owed him anything.
He wrote music for people who get up early, who bury their sadness in routine, who survive because they have to, not because they’re fearless.
+’Justments, the album this track comes from—it’s not about hits. It’s about process.
About what happens when the lights go out and the silence gets loud.
And “Make a Smile for Me”?
That’s not a love song.
It’s a lifeline.
And not every listener will get that.
But you?
You’re here, on Episode 142.
You’ve made it this far through the haze, the heartbreak, the static.
You do get it.
So tonight, while this plays…
Let it remind you:
Even at your most undone, there’s beauty in simply asking.
And grace in being heard.
Bill Withers.
“Make a Smile for Me.”
Late Night Grooves.
WHOT.
And I’m Mangus Khan.
Still here.
Still listening.
For you—and for the silence you don’t have words for.”