Ed Sheeran has made much of his connection to Ireland in recent months, telling Louis Theroux, for example, that he identifies as “culturally Irish” and choosing to share the bombshell that he’s moving to the United States on The 2 Johnnies Podcast.
So it’s a shame that this by all accounts genuine affection doesn’t extend to making his latest album available in advance to Irish reviewers – a courtesy extended to journalists in the UK and the US but not in Ireland. (Believe us, we asked.)
[ Ed Sheeran has as much right to call himself Irish as The Pogues or The SmithsOpens in new window ]
So, while writers in other countries had the time and space to assess his eighth studio long player before it was released, this review has to be more of an instant reaction at the end of a week of cold-shouldering (a reminder, perhaps, that if you want a dictionary-precise definition of “backwater”, look up the mainstream Irish music industry).
Still, even at a very brief encounter, it’s clear that Sheeran is keen to get back on track after a misplaced attempt at authenticity on his two most recent releases, the wan double whammy of “-”, aka Subtract, and Autumn Variations, in 2023.
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Recorded in the aftermath of the death of his friend Jamal Edwards and produced by Aaron Dessner of The National, those LPs saw Sheeran chase critical acclaim for the first time. It was a bad idea all around. The magic Dessner had worked with Taylor Swift was thin on the ground, and Sheeran seemed ill at ease abandoning his natural flair for pop.
He’s back on form on the enjoyably moreish Play. The album will, of course, give further ammunition to detractors who believe Sheeran is the shallowest songwriter alive, but it also brims with quicksilver hooks.
He has, in other words, returned to his day job of churning out annoyingly catchy bangers. Like him or loathe him, you have to agree that’s far more preferable than Sheeran attempting to be the second coming of Jeff Buckley, as was his modus two years ago.
Sheeran has pitched Play as the first in a five-part arc of “symbol”-themed projects – Pause, Rewind, Fast Forward and Stop are all on the way. But the big talking point in advance of its release has been his collaboration with artists from Persia and India.
First up is Sapphire, a twinkling hook-up with the West Bengal composer Arijit Singh. It is followed by Azizam, which combines Iranian and Irish influences (and is cowritten by Johnny McDaid of Snow Patrol).
Such cheeky cross-pollination isn’t a first for Sheeran. Let us not forget – we haven’t! – the appalling Galway Girl, which stomped all over Irish traditional music like a thousand Michael Flatleys performing a mass war dance at the gates of hell.
Without an intimate knowledge of Indian or Persian music, it’s hard to know whether he has committed the same cultural vandalism on Play – but people in Iran seem to love Azizam. Either way, there’s no denying its hypermelodic marriage of shiny western pop and west Asian influences.
There is a lot of Sheeran’s familiar slurpiness on Play. Camera is Sheeran rewriting Chris de Burgh’s Lady in Red, as he tells a significant other that no “camera” can do justice to how great they look. And he has a go at a diss track on A Little More – it’s akin to being savaged by a cuddly toy.
After that rollercoaster – from nimble to naff – Play finishes with the Justin Bieber-style soul-pop of Heaven. It’s a satisfying end to a solid album – though what would I know? I’ve only been able to listen to it since this morning.
