FEATURE:
The Best Albums of 2025
Dave - The Boy Who Played the Harp
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I am running…
a series of features trat explores the very best albums of the year. It is a subjective measure of course, though there are clear standouts from the year that need to be discussed. I am starting out this run by looking at a year-defining album that arrived on 24th October. I am going to end with reviews for The Boy Who Played the Harp, as it is a work of true vision and genius from the British rapper. The album acted as a follow-up to We're All Alone in This Together (2021), Dave’s second studio album, and Split Decision (2023), Dave's collaborative E.P. with Central Cee. The oy Who Played the Harp It features guest appearances from James Blake, Jim Legxacy, Kano, Tems, and Nicole Blakk. In terms of the title and its derivation, it is a reference to the Book of Samuel (1 Samuel 16:14–23), where Saul summoned a young, brave shepherd, David, to play the harp to soothe him as he was being troubled by evil spirits. Whereas other albums in this run will include words from the artists who made them, I have not seen any published interviews with Dave. It does make it harder to get some personal interpretation and perspective. However, there are features and reviews around the album that I will spotlight. I want to start with a review from NPR and their opinion on The Boy Who Played the Harp:
“Of all the epic heroes to be namechecked in hip-hop lyrics, few are invoked more often than the shepherd David. The appeal of the Old Testament figure who conquered Jerusalem and felled Goliath could scarcely be more obvious: Rappers love warriors and kings, and he is both. He rose from the runt of the litter, faced long odds, silenced his haters and toppled a behemoth, literally becoming the stuff of legend. "If David could go against Goliath with a stone / I could go at Nas and Jigga both for the throne," 50 Cent once rapped. David is not just an underdog for the ages — perhaps the underdog — but a symbol of faith moving the immovable object out of one's path. And yet, there is much more to the Bethlemite's character than giant-killing.
The set-dressing around the big showdown in 1 Samuel is less fit for the rap theme of overcoming struggle to become a champion, but it is the primary fixation of the exceptional British rapper born David Orobosa Michael Omoregie. Dave, as he is known mononymously, is more concerned with what happened before David faced Goliath: As the story goes, the king Saul disobeyed God, and the prophet Samuel anointed David to rule in his stead. In the wake of his defiance, Saul was plagued by evil spirits, and a servant suggested he call David in to play the harp for him as a means of relief; David did so, and the spirits vanished. These are the Biblical verses that shape the rap verses on The Boy Who Played the Harp, Dave's third album, the first in four years — and his esteemed discography's crown jewel.
Since 2018, Dave has been the U.K.'s most decorated lyricist, scoring an Ivor Novello Award, a Mercury Prize and an album of the year win at the Brit Awards. But trophies pale in comparison to a higher calling, and on his latest work the rapper embraces not just his scriptural namesake but 1 Samuel's 16th chapter, in which David is anointed and plays his harp to pacify the phantoms. It could be said that London's top boy has spent the better part of an illustrious career soothing evil spirits, ancestral meditations girding his songs about being a traumatized Black yute in Streatham who grew into a generational voice. But the load of that responsibility is clearly weighing on him. He has ascended to a position of meaningful power; how best to use it?
Now 27, the rapper narrates the new album as though stricken by the contradictions of his chosen profession and sucked into the bog of its self-sustaining stress cycle: His artistic self-immolations have brought him popularity, which leads to class insulation, which in turn induces the shame and survivor's guilt that lead to further immolation. "How can I explain that I don't want to heal 'cause my identity is pain?" he pleads on "My 27th Birthday," before adding, "I wanna be a good man, but I wanna be myself too / And I don't think that I can do both." The personal reflections from inside his quarter-life crisis lead him not only to a philosophical breakthrough but to his sharpest music, expanding the theater of his solemn, elegant sound into a baroque cathedral. The Boy Who Played the Harp is as majestic as it is sturdily built. Across its 10 songs, Dave reevaluates what he owes his listeners, his forebears (in both rap and activism), his protégés (in the game and the streets), his community (at local, cultural and racial levels) and himself. "Ten years I been in the game and I won't lie, it's gettin' difficult," he raps. "This s*** used to be spiritual." The album is breathtaking in both its clarity of thought and purpose, as it walks all who bear witness through a career reckoning turned spirit awakening”.
Never has this knack been put to greater use than on "Fairchild," a gripping six-minute opus that details the sexual assault of a fictional 24-year-old woman named Tamah. Men in hip-hop have yet to meaningfully engage with rape culture, or acknowledge the ways rap culture has fed it, but Dave (who has never shied aways from stories of abuse) takes this moment of messy self-examination to consider his involvement — as party thrower and bystander — and to amplify the accounts of survivors. As he raps, he shifts in and out of phase with the artist Nicole Blakk, warping the perspectives of narrator and listener. Their voices echo out over each other until he finally slingshots into the foreground with a call to action, a muffled synth blaring like a siren in the distance. It is a powerful, determined bit of portraiture that reveals just how elaborate his orchestration has become”.
I will move to a take from Atwood Magazine. For anyone who does not own Dave’s The Boy Who Played the Harp, I would urge you to go and get it. It is one of many masterpieces from this year. It is one of the most affecting listening experiences of the year. I think the last time I sat down with a Dave album was 2019’s PYSCHODRAMA. I think that this is the best thing that he has ever released:
“It’s hard to conceptualize The Boy Who Played the Harp without discussing “Fairchild.” Akin to Adolescence, Dave brings light one of the most harrowing aspects of our modern times, how individually easy it is for men to cause extreme societal damage. The prior 30 minutes has Dave on his hands and knees, pleading for guidance or a relief of our societal pressures. Underneath all the weight, the album’s penultimate tune has a two-minute delivery from Nicole Blakk outlining an assault, the cultural behaviors that empower men to sexually harass women, and the self-preservations women go through to simply exist. It’s a haunting listen. The song is five minutes long. It feels like forever, it will never end. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. By the time you’re welcomed to the conclusion, Dave bravely asks,
“Am I one of them?”
It’s intrinsic, it’s the work thousands of young boys are demanded of themselves. To close out the emotional climax, Dave issues his ultimatum:
“Can’t sit on the fence,
that’s hardly an option.
You either part of the solution
or part of the problem.”
Change is possible, it can happen, and it’s demanded the individual starts it.
The title track ends the record. It’s a barrage of political and cultural grievances past and present. Words fail to summarize the topics succinctly: [military drafts, survival instincts, societal martyrs, white adoption of black music, the occupation of Palestine, the Palestinian Genocide, artistic risk to discuss topical issues, illegal occupation of stolen land, the rape and pillage of Africa, failure of African leaders to share wealth, continued generational protests for civil rights, affluent partying while the poor struggle, and biblical expectations of the name David] are packed into the 4:37 long conclusion. Somehow landing optimistic, the grand struggles we all face will one day be stories of progress. Change never starts on the grandest scale, progress is always painfully incremental, yet a new world is continually and optimistically possible. Dave ends the album with:
“My ancestors, my ancestors
told me that my life is prophecy
And it’s not just me,
it’s a whole generation of people
gradually makin’ change
There ain’t a greater task
Shift that, make a name, make a start”
It’s exceptionally heavy. Reading the lyrics or discussing them is difficult. You’re challenging yourself, your own comforts, and your own patterns. For many, it won’t be a pleasant listen. For some, the presentation and packaging of The Boy Who Played the Harp will be one of the most memorable listening experiences of the year.
Underneath the depth and topical lyrics, the production is sublime. It’s mostly self-produced by Dave himself, leveraging watery chords and numerous vocal chops. It never feels claustrophobic despite the content. It’s contrived innit, welcoming instrumentals allowing yourself to be vulnerable enough for the lyrical themes. James Blake is featured twice, on the opener and on the aforementioned “Selfish.” A few tunes were written to be more welcoming, “175 Months” or “No Weapons,” yet even those demand the listener to confront racism-infused violence, and the biblical path of life.
The Boy Who Played the Harp is a monumental release, and shows the progress of Dave as a rapper, artist, and producer.
In a post-Blonde, To Pimp a Butterfly, and Sometimes I Might Be Introvert world, Dave’s introduced the newest culturally charged opus that demands listener growth. We’re forced to hear the cultural atrocities we accept and also understand the societal expectations we place on ourselves and others. Can you accept yourself for your shortcomings? Can you forgive your neighbor for the crimes in their name? Do you strive for a better self? For a better other? If you can’t answer those questions, that’s fine. It’s a perfunctory question from Dave, rather than confessing your own answers. You’re the only on that can confront those answers, when you’re ready”.
There are a couple of other reviews that I want to bring in. Stereogum took us deep inside one of 2025’s best albums. I do love this album and it has really stayed with me. I am thinking of personal highlights. I think Fairchild or maybe History. You revisit the album and something hits you the next time you pass through:
“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”.
I am going to finish off with The Guardian and their five-star assessment of Dave’s The Boy Who Played the Harp. Saluting what a skilled rapper he is, this is going to be included in a lot of year-end lists. The best of 2025. One of our greatest artists, do go and listen to Dave’s latest album. I am curious where he heads next and what his next chapter will be. Seemingly growing in stature and brilliance with each album, what does the future hold? Before he considers his next musical step, he has a string of tour dates next year:
“The Boy Who Played the Harp is a very muted-sounding album indeed, big on sparse arrangements, gentle piano figures and subtle pleasures: the unsettled, skittering beats and helium vocal samples that open 175 Months, the quietly eerie harmony vocals that appear midway through My 27th Birthday. Several of its tracks run over the six minute mark, while even its poppiest moments – No Weapons, which reunites him with Sprinter producer Jim Legxacy, and Raindance, a collaboration with Nigerian singer Tems – feel understated. And once the opening verses of History are out of the way, it’s an album noticeably light on self-aggrandising swagger: to judge by the rest of the lyrics, Dave has spent a significant proportion of the last couple of years consumed by a series of existential crises. “Why don’t you post pictures, or why don’t you drop music?” he admonishes himself at one point. “Or why not do something but sitting and stressing yourself?”
Some of his issues are universal, the kind of thoughts that tend to plague people in their late 20s, that weird period in life where you realise that you’re incontrovertibly an adult, whether you feel like one or not. He spends a lot of The Boy Who Played the Harp thrashing over the pros and cons of settling down, unable to work out whether it’s something he is emotionally capable of or not: “You should have had kids … don’t you feel like you’re behind?” he frets on the crestfallen Selfish. The brilliant Chapter 16 is styled as a lengthy dialogue between Dave and Kano, the latter now a patriarchal figure in UK rap, whose career began when Dave was at primary school. It shifts suddenly from discussing the music industry and the impact of sudden fame on your friends to Dave petitioning Kano, a contented family man, for relationship advice: the latter hymns the pleasure of swapping “a silver Porsche” for “leather Max-Cosi baby seats in the SUV”.
But he also seems conflicted about his career, worrying aloud about whether his lyrics are sufficiently socially aware, and whether they have any impact even if they are, working himself up into such a state on My 27th Birthday that he ends up questioning whether the world actually needs to hear anyone rapping at all: “We don’t need no commentators, we can leave that to the sports / Just listen to the music, why’d you need somebody’s thoughts?”
The irony is that he has already answered that question. An album full of self-examination by a rich and successful pop star might seem like a schlep on paper, but Dave is a fantastically smart, sharp lyricist, more than capable of making it work – The Boy With the Harp feels fascinating, rather than self-indulgent – just as he’s technically skilled enough to make the album’s muted sound a bonus: it focuses attention on his voice and exemplary flow.
It’s a point underlined when he finally shifts his gaze outwards on Marvellous and Fairchild, two tracks that emphasise his brilliance as a storyteller: the former tracks a 17-year-old’s progress from drugs to violence to jail, while the latter slowly details a sexual assault, shifting from Dave’s voice to that of female rapper Nicole Blakk, before exploding into a burst of rage that variously takes in “incels”, the murder of Sarah Everard, and hip-hop’s objectification of women: “I’m complicit, no better than you”. It’s harrowing, gripping and powerful: all the evidence you need that Dave’s doubts about himself are unfounded”.
A truly wonderful album that will leave impression on everyone who listens to it, it is no surprise that it has garnered such incredible praise. It is a shame there are no interviews where Dave speaks about The Boy Who Played the Harp. Maybe that means we are not guided and can interpret songs as we feel fit. Dave has given so much of himself with the album, anyway. It is wonderful and awe-inspiring to hear…
A master at the top of his game.