‘The Window and Day’ is eleven tracks of serene placidity. Rhob Cunningham has earned plaudits from luminaries including James Vincent McMorrow, and packed some serious terrain, with the Dublin/Berlin based singer-songwriter choosing to record his debut album in Iceland with producer Valgeir Sigurðsson (Feist, Sigur Ros,Bjork). At its purist ‘Window and Day’ is an acoustic album, yet its indelible mark is left through Cunningham’s adept ability to converse his stories through hazy laments that shine with character.

Opener Quiet song, as the title suggests, is an imperturbable ditty, pleasantly scored with a plucking guitar. Cunningham is a figurative poet, meandering through tracks in an atypical nature. Melodies like Niqab Blue are stripped raw with only vocals carrying the weight and prose of delicate lyrics.

At times strings weave in and out and a more formidable guitar sound is evidently etched across songs like Ghosts (The Curtain) and Key I See. It delivers the most cohesive sound possible while instruments perpetually remain at the absolute minimal.

Someone Will is so beautifully and subtly upbeat that pinned with a jazzy tune it is the most instinctively memorable song of all eleven. When one track ends another will slot perfectly into place, slowly piecing together an extended story.

The allure of ‘The Window and Day’ is in Cunningham’s composition. Each song has been an affliction that has been crafted with care. It plays and sounds like a memoir bound by specific moments and times that make it so engaging. The range of his voice continually dips and lifts, but consistent are the expressive lyrics and folk twang he has honed over time. Cunningham is telling a story, direct and forthright, it is a discourse you can’t help feel attached too.