For Better And Sometimes Worse, Dave’s New Album Takes You To Church

If Dave were a lazy self-mythologizer instead of a meticulous craftsman, he could've just called his new album Confession. Over the course of the 48-minute LP — which is actually titled The Boy Who Played The Harp — the 27-year-old Londoner turns stanzas into tense self-interrogations, exploring themes of regret and personal evolution with the unsparing clarity of a wise but mercifully unpretentious clergyman. His wordplay, thematic symmetry, and emotional commitment make it fairly engrossing, even if the muted production can leave you staring at your iPhone waiting for mass to be over.

As was the case with his last proper solo release, 2021's We're All in This Together, The Boy Who Played The Harp makes its mark with pristine rap fundamentals rather than dynamic musicality. Here, his confessionals double as exhibitions for technical mastery. For "175 Months," Dave folds existential dilemmas into couplets that are as tidy as they are incisive. He repeats the feat on "My 27th Birthday," using a mix of repetition and efficient rhyme economy to unspool a tale of infidelity and corrosive guilt. "How do I explain these messages on my phone?/ I just got a call, my girl's sittin' in the car/ And it says ‘Serge,' but Serge with us in the car/ I know I might sound like a villain from afar/ How do I explain that my mechanic is a chick?/ Or why she callin' me when I don't even own a whip because my licence is revoked?" It's a vivid scene that, when combined with solemn piano, represents the best type of rap soul-searching — so much so that you don't even notice it lasts over seven minutes.

He turns that self-analysis outward with tracks like "Fairchild" and "Marvellous," mildly didactic but necessary tales of a world filled with creepy men and toxic masculinity. For the former, Dave provides a real-time accounting of a woman's sexual assault, sifting through uncomfortable mundanities that preceded the attack. He ends by examining his own complicity in a sexist world, resulting in a track that's emotionally immediate enough to cancel out its heavy handedness.

The album is a serious one, but not everything here is so dire. The Kano-featuring "Chapter 16" is a chill bro reunion that's touching, thoughtful, and realistic; the details and conversational ease of it all make you feel like you're sitting at OXO Tower as the two catch up on the things that changed and the things that can't. When Dave decides to get romantic as he does on the TEMS-assisted "Raindance," he grafts a mellow afrobeat with convincing sincerity Drake misplaced sometime around 2015: "We can get into it or we can get intimate/ The shower when you sing in it/ Better than Beyoncé, I like the sound of fiancée/ You know, it's got a little ring to it." The shift between charm and searing introspection helps keep the album from total monotony. Unfortunately, the hooks themselves do not. She can sing her ass off, but the "Raindance" hook has all the creativity of ChatGPT prompt for "How to make the most forgettable love song you've ever heard": "It's the way my mind fallin' away/ In my heart, I know/ You feel the same when you're with me/ You know I'm all you need/ You're where I wanna be/ My darling, can't you see?"

A similar lack of distinction impacts the album's production. Dave's raps remain sharp, and his self-perception is commendable, but competent as they are, the beats feel flavorless. The tepid strings and piano keys are great soundtracks for contemplation. But swirled with Dave's less-than-aerodynamic vocals, they envelop you in a monotonous fog; I needed to jump to NBA Youngboy in between a few tracks. The hooks themselves don't do much to elevate Dave, either. Parts of the James Blake and TEMS collabs are fun, but I barely remember a word either of them sing. Their placements here aim for prestige, but the choruses feel like placeholders.

The potency of Dave's message is generally enough to make you appreciate the Good Word. Part confession, part sermon, he takes you to church. But unlike the most dynamic preachers, he doesn't always make you forget you're stuck there.

COLD AS ICE

Love to just throw this on and remember the days I thought Valee would lift GOOD Music to the next level. His flow here is as effortless as MVW's string loop as they both do donuts in a synchronized dance.

ROAST ME