The Boy Who Played Harp opens with the track ‘History’. Instantly drawing listeners in, it is a notice, a warning sign, that you are about to embark upon a story. This is not just an album; it is a masterfully crafted piece of art. It will not be an easy listen, and it isn’t supposed to be.
When it comes to storytelling, Dave is of the highest calibre—the UK’s very own Kendrick Lamar, though it would be far from fair to compare the two. They are both respectively the best at pulling off what they do with the greatest of intentions. Emphasised during ‘175 months’, the tear-jerker of a song explores the beauty in vulnerability, doing so in the most honest form of storytelling.
The back and forth between Dave and Kano in ‘Chapter 16’ is a highlight on the album, the warmth of their relationship nourishes the soul. They speak of their respective generations, cultures and environments, Kano passes the baton onto Dave to continue his legacy of Black British music. Dave champions emotional-examination within black, male, British culture. It is of the utmost importance that an artist of his popularity does this. The reality is that some men out there feel unable to speak up about their mental health problems, but listening to this album (especially tracks such as ‘Selfish’) may help them do that. He is an incredibly important role model, now more than ever. Throughout the album he normalises self-criticism, going to therapy, and raw sensitivity. Dave has mastered the art of emotional imperfection; the art of humanity.
Features such as Tems, James Blake, and Jim Legacy are flawlessly intentional, adding aspects of storytelling and well-executed embellishment to the record. The goosebump-inducing track ‘Selfish’ is followed by ‘My 27th Birthday’, a lyrical focal point on the album. A song that reaches truly groundbreaking levels of retrospection, and deep reflection on the current western disenfranchisement within today’s sociopolitical climate. A musician does not need to be shockingly honest in their work in order to create good music, but Dave does this naturally. He uses his, sometimes painful, psychological transparency to relate to his listener—but it seems that this is also therapy to him.
‘Fairchild’ sees Dave looking towards the female perspective. He tells a story investigating the misogyny and normalised violence against women in the “culture of the club”. “[We] all know a victim but don’t know a perpetrator”, “you’re either part of the solution or part of the problem.” It’s a song that every woman can relate to, addressing the constant fear of sexual assault and the culture of patriarchy that standardises objectification. It would have been easy for Dave to position himself on a pedestal in this song and claim that he is above misogyny culture as he criticises it, but he doesn’t. Dave refuses to put himself on a moral high-ground, he emanates a level of understanding that he has also been a part of the problem in his past. Nicole Blakk’s spoken word feature transforms this from a song into an object that is worthy of the Louvre.
The eponymous track ‘The Boy Who Played Harp’ closes the album with an embedded sample of the Beatles’ ‘And I Love Her’. This is the perfect end to the record. It is situated as a history lesson, a social and political commentary, an education on true introspection, integrity, and understanding. There is no denying that this album is worthy of a Grammy and all of the international accolades possible. But more importantly, this album is worth just taking the time to listen to, and learn from.
This is what it looks like when someone puts their everything into their art.
“Santan Dave” by SamuelWren98 is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.