James Blunt - 'Back To Bedlam' (Atlantic)
2/5
By: Kevin Molloy
'Bedlam', quite.
Blunt, just where's the delicacy, the nuance? For therein lies the worst part of said solo act's latest. We are entirely certain that James has reams of subtlety and artistry at his disposal - but this LP is regurgitated, cliché produce of the most severe order. It is an oft perceived American peculiarity, and not uncommon. Jason Mraz, troubadour of the middle classes, produced an album similarly over-done, and then reheated on one of those horrible chrome counters. Yet, in his live shows, he positively shines, experimental and essential; nouveau cuisine, dropping instruments down to a minimal simplicity.
The same pattern, it would seem, could well apply here. The vocals, should you be able to block those noodling organs, guitars and violins all unobtrusively destroying all they touch, are heart-rending. There's a tendency to rely upon the 'sensitive' falsetto, but the voice is unique in its calibre. Anybody remember another example in the same vein as above, Mr Ondrasick of Five For Fighting? It's better than that, but at least you have a touchstone.
With a close friend like Guy Chambers (formerly of Robbie Williams obscurity), it's easy to see where all this over-production has come in. Yet it's also easy to idly criticise, a crime we would hope to never dare commit. So whilst we reserve judgment upon his future conquests, and indeed upon his actual palpability as an artist, let there be little remorse in the panning of this LP.
It's an unfortunate reality that Sheen helps albums sell by the platinum truckload, but too many artists surface with their own voices via independent channels for this to serve as any excuse. If Blunt wants to continue sounding like an errant member from a boy band gone solo, pray let him continue (we're sure Chambers will lead the way). But there's a maturity of songwriting and vocals here that could provide so, so much more.
There's a reason that high street restaurants will train their chefs in a day, and those restaurants in a cellar down an alley in Soho can pick and choose, whilst people perfect their art for years to even contemplate applying. It's because the first are wholly dispensable, and serve only as a stopgap to the next proper meal, or else must suffice when we have time for nothing else. Come on James, you could - neigh, must - do more than this.
Artists in this article: James Blunt
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