Album Review :
Seth Davey - Kingdom Rising

It feels improper to simply open with the fact that Attalus’ Facedown debut Into the Sea is the better part of a decade old at this point, but it’s probably how most people are familiar with Seth Davey. After the band’s arguably-untimely end shortly thereafter, life moved forward, and while the album continued to be one of the most captivating releases from the label, there seemed to be a huge need for similar works that spoke so adeptly toward the intersection of historic Christian tradition and our strange modern moment which such artistry.

Davey’s solo work is not another take of Into the Sea, nor is it another Hillsong or Getty or otherwise. The discerning fan will know the lesser-known Attalus hymn album, and there has always been a certain intellectual faithfulness in Davey’s writing. He is as thoughtful as he is founded in Scripture. He acknowledges the temptations and arguments of our era without elevating them or fixating upon them. Add in his baritone voice and there’s something distinct about his style. Perhaps you could call it modern alternative worship – many of these songs do feely “churchy” in one sense, albeit with just enough punk rock edge to keep them off Christian radio.

Musically, Davey’s piano chops are accompanied by a full band – guitar, drums, and even some cool string parts. Again, it’s NOT Attalus, but there are so many moments that feel similar to the Post Tenebras Lux record that it’d be hard to be disappointed. And there’s definitely a thematic focus, both lyrically and musically, that certainly makes this a worthwhile listen. It is more contemplative than personal, and while there are many artists who strike a strong balance, I personally find that the goodness of God in Christ through all ages is what truly gives these songs a timeless flavor. Kingdoms and empires will come and go. There will be good days and bad days. Christ is enough.

As for the songs themselves, they range from solo piano and voice arrangements to nearly-eight-minute full-band arrangements. If you liked songs like “Death Be Not Proud”, you’ll probably feel at home. And if you’re looking for worship songs whose length is not artificially inflated by reputation, you’ll be pleasantly greeted with verses densely packed with truth.

One of the central premises of the record is the parable of the sower and the seed; Davey likens Christ Himself to being the Seed – the One we trampled with our transgressions, the One Who makes manifest our faith and reconciliation to the Father. This theme is explored from several angles, with traces of other parables mixed in as (the mustard seed is particularly prominent, with the “rising” of the tree being tied back to Christ as the Seed). Davey pays special care with the reality that the Gospel and Kingdom are inward-working, often unseen, pervasive in the ordinary, weak, and small things of life. Just because we do not see a political conquering of Christ upon the earth does not mean He does not reign – just as we would not think a seed is not at work while buried underground, to paraphrase “In the Hearts of the Small”. Davey likewise points to the frailty and distress of the world, which, when juxtaposed against the grandeur of the Messiah, only deepens the longing for the life yet to come.

There’s a good range of moods at play accordingly: there are pensive, more minimalistic moments (“Prelude (a planting”, “Broken, Beautiful”, “The Seed”), full-band classics (“Love is the Higher Law”, “Fingerprints”), and tracks that find a good balance between reverence and artistry (“To Be More Like You”, “Paradise in a Paradox”). Of course, there are plenty of shifts in dynamic within any given track. There’s a lot going on from a compositional level, but it never FEELS too busy or big.

Lyrically, there’s way too much to unpack here. There are a host of repeating themes as mentioned earlier, mostly tied to the parables of Jesus, but Davey has dropped plenty of incredible verses and one-liners into these songs. This is highlighted as early as the FIRST verse on the entire record (taken from “Love is the Higher Law”).

To speak of Incarnation

Of God with a face like ours

Of Love’s disfiguration

Till we look through the scars

The Kingdom is a mustard seed

Too small to apprehend

It grows beneath our feet

But towers in the end

The use of “Love’s disfiguration” is particularly powerful. What does love really look like? Davey does not speak in abstracts, instead remind us that Christ was so physically damaged that He did not even look like a person. But there’s more still within this – “Till we look through the scars”. This a running theme on the record, of God’s work and glory often being hidden or unrecognizable. Like Thomas, we often want to “see for ourselves”.

“In the Hearts of the Small” showcases these lines:

I know some have said ‘God is dead’

But is that the word that still resounds?

We don’t claim a little seed is lost

When it’s rising underground

It’s still a sacred scroll even with pages torn

It’s still a blooming rose even when crowned with thorns

It’s still a masterpiece even with fraying strands

It’s still the touch of God even through calloused hands

“Altars” is a particularly powerful track, featuring some very powerful sentiments on how all earthly and spiritual threats will be rendered powerless.

Altars of failures we just can’t redeem

And hopes that get nailed to a wooden crossbeam

Altars of questions that burn in our head

Of crippling depression that keeps us in bed

Altars of terrible devilish lies

And all those unbearable pains of goodbyes

Altars of Neros who burn with their hate

Of well-meaning heroes who show up too late

Altars of violence from rioting crowds

And Heavenly silence that’s hellishly loud

There’s a lot of beautiful wordplay here, from the use of “crossbeam” to “Heavenly silence that’s hellishly loud”. At the risk of spoiling too much, I’ll hold off from going much deeper. Needless to say, the entire album is strewn with delicate and intentional phrasing that is as thoughtful as it is prone to get stuck in your head.

These are not cheap sentiments of life. “Broken, Beautiful” and “Altars” in particular acknowledge God’s presence even in moments of intense struggle. These songs remind us that pain is part of the process, so to speak. I can’t help but think of classic hymns like “It Is Well”, and apparently neither can Davey, as he directly incorporates it into his lyrics here in part. I’m probably preaching to the choir here, but there are many who liken the Christian experience to KLOVE and megachurch worshiptainment. We overlook that this is not how Christians have traditionally seen the world – certainly not the martyrs of the early Church.

Davey has crafted a truly beautiful set of songs here where he does not cut any corners. His lyricism points well beyond himself. The instrumental arrangements aren’t entirely unlike his work with Attalus, shifting from minor to major keys, culminating in powerful endings, or even carefully playing off the lyrics (“The minor rifts / The major lifts”, which both plays off “Hallelujah” while also contextualizing it PROPERLY in terms of an actual hallelujah). This is a record with a certain timeless quality because its foundation is the One Who stands outside of time. And somehow, the record manages to still be accessible and a joy to listen to (let’s be real, some hymns can feel like dirges at times). Most of art through history, even the Psalms themselves, were born out of a specific context. They speak to the Lord’s specific work. This is an album that captures our modern zeitgeist just enough but acknowledges God is so much bigger than it. If I could sum things up succinctly, the Church could benefit greatly from more works like this.