For thousands of dreamy-eyed teenagers, lovable scruffball Ed Sheeran needs no introduction. For the rest of you, here’s a tweet-sized summary; 20 year-old Suffolk lad Sheeran is a singer-songwriter of Irish descent, and demonstrably, Irish complexion who grew up here before moving back to the UK at the age of 16. He once slept on Jamie Foxx’s couch.
As you may have guessed, there’s more to Sheeran story than can be explained in 140 characters. It’s taken the singer 600 gigs, five self-released EPs and one big-up from Elton John to become the sensation that he is today, but what’s most impressive about this part of the tale is +, the debut album that just went straight in at number one in the British charts.
Let me start by saying that there are two sides to Ed Sheeran. For the most part, he comes across as a baby-faced Jack Johnson or a more marketable Nizlopi; a capable troubadour with a knack for a charming acoustic melody. This is generally a very good colour on him. His peachy vocals are always warm and pleasing, and he uses everything from exaggerated percussion to nifty vocal looping to sweeping celtic rhythms to decorate his handsome folk ditties. Unfortunately, he takes a detour through schmaltz country on stripped-back piano ballad ‘Wake Me Up’, defiantly belting out clichés like, “I’ll take you to the beach and walk along the sand/And I’ll make you a heart pendant with a pebble held in my hand”. But we can forgive him for that.
Sheeran’s second facet is entirely different. On a number of beatbox-assisted, urban-tinged tracks, he morphs into a cocksure pseudo rapper who’d sooner start a beef with Tinchy Stryder than go walking on the beach with his honey. “Call yourself a single writer, you’re just bluffing/Names on the credits and you didn’t write nothing,” he spits on standout track ‘You Need Me, I Don’t Need You’. Of course, the song is far more bizarre when Sheeran performs it live, injected with lines from 50 Cent’s ‘In Da Club’ and Bristol reggae collective Laid Blak’s ‘Red’, the latter delivered in a mock-Jamaican accent. Thankfully, on wax, Sheeran does away with the impressions and allows himself to rest comfortably on his ample reserves of groove and attitude.
Across 12 tracks, Sheeran addresses an unborn child (‘Small Bump’), a prostitute (‘The A Team’) and the homeless population of London (‘The City’). It’s a shame that these attention-seeking rhymes and bizarre plot twists have the power to overshadow genuinely lovely tracks like ‘Grade 8’, ‘Lego House’ and a beautiful, lilting version of traditional Irish swan song ‘The Parting Glass’.
To Sheeran’s credit, + is full of touching moments. But there’s a split musical personality at the heart of it which begs the question: which Ed Sheeran will be around for the long haul?