This album isn’t going to cause a worldwide
phenomenon. It’s not likely that it’s going to gain appeal from the
devoted My Chemical Romance and Fall Out Boy fans sweeping the
nation at the moment. But it does something more than that,
something more than Mariah Carey with her overwhelming amount of #1
hit singles or the already overexposed pop stars of our era can
claim to.
Back To Bedlam makes an impact on you, albeit
it a quiet, subtle impact, but one that leaves the songs imprinted
somewhere deeper than your usual disposable pop. It just might even
take your breath away, which is just as much of a compliment as a
truckload of Grammy nominations.
James Blunt builds Back To Bedlam on
imperfections, from the fuzz of the drums to his occasional lack of
grace while switching to falsetto. But coupled with introspective,
near-heartbreaking lyrics (for example, from “Goodbye My Lover,” “I
am a dreamer but when I wake / You can’t break my spirit / It’s my
dreams you take”), this album is one of the most engaging debuts
I’ve managed to stumble across, not to mention the album that’s
become impossible to eject from my stereo.
Blunt, a British soldier turned musician, injects his
own irresistible blend of influences into this album. Whether it’s
the jaunty, unmistakably Elton John-esque keys of “Billy” or
“You’re Beautiful,” reminiscent of Damien Rice’s earlier hit “The
Blower’s Daughter,” Blunt sweeps through love and loss and regret
almost effortlessly. He even drops in a reference to Oscar Wilde’s
corrupt creation Dorian Gray from The Picture Of Dorian Gray
in “Tears And Rain,” which, admittedly, is enough to win me
over.
The heartfelt simplicity in Blunt’s debut may not be
the most groundbreaking of debuts, but its success is received from
more than that. From intricate arrangements to Blunt’s agonizingly
captivating lyrics, Back To Bedlam‘s winsome, stripped-down
approach to some of the most overused emotions in music stands out
not in spite of its flaws but, endearingly enough, because of
them.
