David Ian Roberts - From the Harbour (2020)

During the making of From the Harbour, between March and May of this year, David Ian Roberts was aware that circumstances dictated his approach, in that he would be playing all of the instruments and that they would be what he had in the house. Although his arsenal stretched from acoustic and electric guitars to piano, bass, cello and percussion, the enforced parameters have resulted in a noticeably leaner and more spacious record than his previous Travelling Bright, something that to my ears suits David’s arrangements and lyrics far better. Take Dream a Fallen or Levitate Master as examples; the former is a simply structured piece of lovely acoustic playing with a thumbed bass string keeping time, while scraps of electric guitar support light and sombre lyrics. Levitate Master is gorgeous, employing delicately layered acoustic guitars and vocals to gently support a sweet lament, with some effective but again subtle slide playing running through the second half. Nothing is overdone or overstuffed here and the songs breathe easily.

Now or Never is perhaps even more effective, with a insistent percussion and finger-picked guitar line holding down the tune while cello drifts through at points and David’s airy vocals roll in and then disperse like clouds. Elsewhere on Walker his singing has more substance, sounding much like parts of Simon and Garfunkel’s Only Living Boy in New York, while David hints at his prowess on the acoustic guitar. All that said, my picks on the album are actually the two instrumental numbers, both refreshing and beautifully put together. Distant Planets is an ethereal peach, with repeated piano chords sat behind stream of consciousness electric guitar playing; the result is a spare and spacious tune that sounds not unlike Charles Rumback and Ryley Walker’s Self Blind Sun from their Little Common Twist album. Red Desert has a similar energy, but with an acoustic refrain providing the foundation. Again though, the electrics arguably steal the show here, coming in fragmented, jogging along side-by-side and really illuminating a cyclical, persuasive arrangement that also has minimal drums adding texture and some eerie snippets of dog barking and voices towards the end lending it a slightly more sinister feel.

Took my Time ends the album appropriately with another nicely played acoustic line underpinning a slow-burning piece that uses subtle electric guitar and piano to play out an ultimately uplifting message. It concludes a very lovely album, an interesting, meticulously crafted set that boasts strong vocals and lyrics blended with intricate instrumental playing and arrangements that are careful on the sang numbers to lift the song without overpowering it. From the Harbour is very elegantly performed and produced, with a level of intelligence in the songs and their structure that will ensure their longevity. A quiet and patient delight from an artist continually honing his craft.