An hour is enough time to get to know an artist. For those going into Dear Life, the latest album from David Gray, there is a hope of intimacy. Not because we as listeners should demand it from an artist but because the route towards the heart comes through openness. An hour of singer-songwriter stylings, baroque-adjacent works, is enough time with anyone, let alone a stranger. Dear Life is time well spent. In a time where a half hour here or an hour there feels like a grand and unequivocal loss if not used right, taking an hour with an artist of years’ experience can be a risk. Has malaise set in? Are the cogs still turning, cleaned after use like a coffee machine fearing the next breakdown? Dear Life is an open book, as is Gray, whose works here are a fitting mixture of instrumental bliss and lyrical tales.
Eyes Made Rain, the third track from this Dear Life album, is the first great piece from Gray. It lives or dies on the instrumental tones, the alternate tinge it thrives on, and the individuality heard in his recording style. But this has often been the case. White Ladder was made in a flat, and while Dear Life may have some bolder production behind it, some bigger sway in its influence, it still has the homebrew style to it, the continued search for innovation. This is the finest part of Dear Life, and thankfully Gray keeps hold of its tenacity, of its range. He spirals into experimental instrumental form on Fighting Talk though chooses to sing the sound of a bell ringing rather than source one. Those little details put us in his shoes, though, in the ring as he clobbers emotional horror down into place. We must all beat our emotions into place occasionally, and Dear Life is a thrill ride of soft tones with hard, harsh messages.
Something as touching as Sunlight on the Water serves its emotionally tender purpose. But in those lush piano notes and the soft-spoken style Gray has perfected over the years is a provocative tone. Where does he find this peace? How do we claim it for ourselves? Gray never tells us. But there is something to be said for his range, his talent as a vocalist comes through once more. Where the material may come across as light from time to time, it is hard not to appreciate the drifting tones, and the tenacity Gray holds on what is completely intangible. He manages to grasp a feeling, a process of thought, a flutter of the heart. It makes his work across Dear Life that little bit sweeter, paving over the somewhat clinical and uneventful midpoints.
Lyrical clarity in all the right spots is what makes it that much better, though. His vocal strength lay in what, for many artists, would be a weakness. There is a hoarseness, a rough edge to Gray which he elaborates on well with The Only Ones. This intensity comes in waves, but what welcome moments they make for. Dear Life is a tribute to the day-to-day experiences, often filled with their staggering emotional drain, but an exciting experience. That much is clear on this release and a consistency washes over it, maintaining a steady foundation which Gray, occasionally, leaps from with some bold assertion or understanding of the world around him. That is where this album comes to life, it just happens too little.
