‘The Boy Who Played The Harp’ Is Dave’s Bittersweet Return To The Top

Four years is a long time in music, a period where the scene you come back to can feel alien and unfamiliar. Some can’t adapt, but Dave is the exception and the rule. Often the young man from Streatham has been classed as the voice of a generation, justified by his standing as one of the most talented artists the UK can currently boast. An instant classic with debut album Psychodrama, strongly followed up by We’re All Alone In This Together, Santan has willed his every musical move into a moment—a reset for the culture that warrants his standing.

The Boy Who Played The Harp, his first LP since 2021, is the latest in that lineage. It has arrived after, in Dave’s words, “years of soul searching” that, as the project shows, reveal an almost tortured soul. His albums have always carried a level of emotional weight, opuses that explore the depths of his minerals as a man, son, brother, believer in God and a critic of society. The Boy Who Played The Harp is no different, because as Dave has grown up and matured in front of our eyes, his transparency has remained one of his endearing qualities. His ability to dissect the confines of his mind, his daily struggles and the ever-changing dynamics of his life, careens here.

“175 Months” is a prolonged prayer—a repenting Dave attempting to ground himself in his faith due to being pulled in different directions mentally by his fame, lurking opps and almost overbearing responsibilities as a family man. As he raps, “I’m in church more worried about the service on my phone,” he paints a picture of his priorities to incredible effect. The album’s overt religious themes bleed into “No Weapons” featuring Jim Legxacy, who pulls from Psalm 27 in his hook. The duo picks up where they left off on Jim’s “3x”, from his 2025 project black british music, showcasing an undeniable creative chemistry.

Especially refreshing is Dave’s lyrical prowess throughout, weaving through rhyme schemes with perfection, as evidenced on “Chapter 16”. A back and forth with Kano, it sounds like we’re almost in on a private conversation in a Michelin Star restaurant between two UK titans, Kano almost acting as a sage giving the younger Dave some game. As a result, it stands as one of the best rap tracks to land in 2025—one that, in the early days of the album’s release, has lit up social media the most, and it’s justified.

But where the album shines in places, it also lacks in others. “Raindance” with Tems is forgettable as a love song and following tracks “Selfish” and “Marvellous” are somewhat monotonous in delivery. Sonically, the album lacks the expansiveness in places that Dave has been known for—hose orchestral, supremely poignant sections that have made his music must-hear. On “Harp”, the music rarely leaves first gear, perhaps overly reliant on melancholic piano chords and uninteresting drum patterns, creating a wearisome plod through the middle section.

Things pick up at the second half of “My 27th Birthday”, the album’s centre piece and a surgical display of his state of mind. He doesn’t shy away from his emotions here, opening up about his struggles with unrequited love, falling out with friends and collaborators—including the producer 169, who co-produced “Screwface Capital” from Psychodrama—and his dedication to musical perfection. Refreshing and piercing, “My 27th Birthday” continues his birthday song tradition with another high watermark.

This sense of immediacy carries over to “Fairchild”, featuring rising star Nicole Blakk: a stark account of the attempted sexual assault of one of Dave’s closest friends that morphs into a PSA of sorts. A dressing down of society, how it enables narcissistic men to commit and get away with horrible crimes against women, and the state’s continuous failing of women at every angle, Dave draws a line in the sand, loud and proud in his defence of women and their right to exist. He looks ahead on the closing title track, questioning his own ability to be a voice for change, calling out the evils of the world as he sees them and his hypocrisies when calling them out as a man of wealth.

Overall, The Boy Who Played The Harp is an honest and rousing portrait of Dave the man and the artist at this stage in his life. Where musically it lacks, his knack for politically-charged anthems—targeted both inwardly and outwardly—continue to pull high level creativity from the young general. A fine addition to a growing catalogue of greatness.