Daniel Martin Moore - In the Cool of the Day (2011 LP)

Daniel Martin Moore - In The Cool Of The Day

Religion is a tough subject for young musicians. Beyond Sufjan Steven’s wrangling with faith and Stuart Murdoch’s spiritual wonderings throughout the Belle and Sebastian catalogue, there’s not a lot of room for personal belief. God is passé, verging on taboo.

Choosing, then, to release an album of old gospel standards is almost a maverick act in 2011, which makes Daniel Martin Moore a quiet kind of rebel. Drawing on memories of a childhood surrounded by spirituals and gospel, Moore has recreated that beloved music with a loving touch.

The arrangements are sparse, fitting Moore’s voice as the central instrument. By no means a flashy singer, his soft croon is deceptively subtle and supple, allowing him to bend these songs of love and joy into something more understated but no less heartfelt.

Moore is at his most touching on the slower numbers, which allow him to use his voice to its fullest, and let his sincere love for this music to shine. Will Lamartine Thompson’s "Softly & Tenderly" live up to its name, a slow hymn that echoes with the gravitas of the church even before Jesus’ name is invoked. "In The Cool Of The Day" shares a similar stately pace, but its elegiac tone stands apart from the rest of the album.

There’s plenty of fun to be had when Moore lets himself go, too. The lively "Dark Road" (adapted from G.B. Grayson and Henry Whittier’s "A Dark Road Is a Hard Road to Travel") mixes banjo, slide guitar and a jaunty fiddle line to recapture some of the original’s giddiness. The love and joy is palpable, though it’s a rare moment in an otherwise sombre album. "Up Above My Head" adds a jazzy swing to proceedings, but Moore’s declaration that he “really [does] believe there’s joy somewhere” is tripped up by an arrangement that sounds merely happy rather than overly joyous.

The fundamental problem with In The Cool of the Day, though, is its tendency to be…well, nice. Even in his most joyful moments, Moore sounds like he’s more scared of disturbing the neighbours than expressing himself. In small doses, this subtlety is a powerful thing; across an entire album, the result is a warm but ultimately forgettable record.

Review score: 6.5/10