Nick Jonah Davis: When the Sun Came
Thread Recordings

A veritable tonic for these times, When the Sun Came is the fourth chapter in a series of solo releases from Nick Jonah Davis. The guitarist recorded the ten-song set at the village church in Atlow, not far from his home in rural Derbyshire. Though Davis isn't averse to collaborating—he released 2016's Split Electric with C Joynes, for example—everything on When the Sun Came was done by him but for pigeon whistles by Nathaniel Mann (Dead Rat Orchestra) on “Whistle on Woolf.”

Uplift sets in the moment the title track begins. Davis's acoustic guitar sings a song of bluesy rapture as slide-executed melodies blend with entrancing strums. Here and elsewhere, his prowess as a guitarist is obvious, yet in all cases he uses technique to serve the material. That said, fingerpicking aficionados will find much to admire, with Davis embroidering the songs with layers of detail and texture and doing so with immense skill. A case in point is “The Peacock Dance,” which exemplifies a high level of craft in crystalline picking that's as much rooted in classical playing as folk.

Though Davis is UK-based, a strong hint of Mississippi Delta blues character emerges in many a reverie, especially when slide glissandos are in such plentiful supply. Not surprisingly, the most extreme example of such is the swamp-drenched “Delta Suey,” where slides joyfully commune for two minutes. “Pebbles from the Brook,” on the other hand, exudes a pastoral air in ornamenting acoustic guitars with church organ.

A sunny vignette, “The Muckle Master” distinguishes itself from others in having a tremolo-laden electric give voice to its jaunty, blues-laden lines. “Whistle on Woolf” likewise individuates itself, this time due to the ethereal effects Mann's pigeon whistles bring to the arrangement. Stripped of its suggestive title, “All Them Symbols” would still suggest cymbalon playing to those familiar with its sound, even if Davis presumably used guitar to produce those ancient-sounding timbres.

As the album advances, it grows all the more evident that composition comes first for Davis and its realization in instrumental form second. There's no shortage of haunting melodies in play either, as the sombre meditation “Like a Teardrop” illustrates when a high-pitched cry swoops upward at strategic moments. In splitting ten songs across two vinyl sides, When the Sun Came is well-tailored for the LP format, and at thirty-five minutes, it also feels perfectly timed. There's enough material here to both reward listeners and allow Davis's artistry to be appreciated but not so much that the possibility of disengagement arises.

October 2020