Kyle Davis Breaks Down the Walls with Deeply Personal New Album Jericho

An 8-track odyssey of loss, resilience, and redemption that proves great storytelling is timeless.

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Acclaimed singer-songwriter Kyle Davis makes a striking return with Jericho, his first full-length studio album since 2020’s Make It Count—and it’s clear from the first note that this isn’t just a collection of songs; it’s a confession, a confrontation, and ultimately, a catharsis.

Out today, Jericho is an unflinching and poetic exploration of grief, healing, and the fragmented pieces of identity we fight to reclaim. Through its eight sprawling tracks, Davis offers listeners an intimate seat at the table—one where pain and beauty coexist, and where vulnerability isn’t just welcome, it’s essential.

“Jericho, both the song and the record, examines what it means to get another chance and put together the pieces of ourselves scattered across the floor... Not all of them fit together the same way anymore, but enough do,” Davis reflects.

Blending the introspective soul of Peter Gabriel, the narrative finesse of Jackson Browne, and the groove-rich warmth of Bill Withers, Jericho is a sonic and emotional balancing act. It feels timeless and contemporary all at once—an album that honors its influences without getting lost in them.

A Sonic Mosaic of Meaning

The album opens with its namesake, “Jericho,” a contemplative track that sets the tone for what’s to come. Built on restrained instrumentation and Davis’s raw vocals, it wrestles with the disillusionment of materialism and the deeper meaning we crave beyond the surface.

From there, Jericho delves deeper into the shadows with “On a Ledge,” a standout moment that examines the dissonance between the persona we present to the world and the internal battles we bury beneath it. It's an aching, cinematic piece that finds Davis asking the quiet questions most people are too afraid to voice aloud.

Then there’s “Sail Away,” a lyrical meditation on impermanence that uses the sea as its metaphor—a symbol of both unpredictability and quiet strength. “It’s like trying to hold water,” Davis sings, “but water holds you, too.”

Perhaps the album’s most emotionally charged moment arrives with “The Last Line.” Here, Davis confronts the everyday and the eternal in one breath, offering a eulogy for dreams deferred and a prayer for something more. It’s a song that aches with realism but still finds a glimmer of hope in the mess.

Worth Every Second

Clocking in at eight tracks, Jericho may seem compact, but don’t let the lengthy timestamps fool you—every second earns its place. This is an album that rewards stillness and attentiveness, asking its listener to slow down, lean in, and stay awhile. There’s a deliberate pace to these songs, like pages of a journal turned slowly under candlelight.

A Comeback Worth the Wait

While Jericho marks Davis’s first album in four years, it doesn’t feel like a return—it feels like a reinvention. Not in style or genre, but in spirit. Davis has always had a gift for lyrical truth, but here he seems more fearless, more focused, and more fluent in the language of healing than ever before.

This isn’t a record made for background noise—it’s made for long drives, late nights, and moments when the world falls quiet enough to let the heart speak. It’s an album that doesn’t just reflect on the human condition—it inhabits it, sits with it, and ultimately honors it.

In Jericho, Kyle Davis doesn’t just tell stories—he breaks them open. And in doing so, he gives us permission to do the same.