Ed Sheeran Deserves More Credit For Being A Unique Songwriter: Review

As the first quarter of the 21st century draws to a close, Billboard looks back at the 25 greatest pop stars of the past 25 years. Below, we take a deeper look at the peak of our No. 24 pop star, Ed Sheeran, and how his writing style—while often mocked critically—actually displays the efficiency, creativity and originality of a true songwriter.

Despite being one of the most successful musicians of this century based on almost every statistic imaginable, Ed Sheeran's music has inspired over a decade of stares and turned noses – not necessarily because it's bad, in the eyes of critics, but because it's boring.

This is not an oversimplification. in 2011, The GuardianPeter Robinson literally made the English singer-songwriter the face of “The New Boring”, naming his debut album + “a 12-bore s–tgun” and likens him to “a combination of every band of friends whose pub gig you've ever seen”. Six years later, RakeLaura Snapes described Sheeran as “trivial”, “bland” and “unimaginative”, all in the subtitle of a review of his third album ÷ (note 2.8). Over the course of his career, the musician has drawn particular criticism for his approach to genre, taking elements of hip-hop, R&B and rock and distilling them into compressed, radio-friendly pop worms that inevitably stick around for years at a time on the charts and on grocery store speakers — author Rachel Aroesti recently described the end result as “muddy, fuzzy, inoffensive sound after the genre that has served to homogenize music in general”.

It's understandable why people might be tempted to explain away Sheeran's success. Homely, scruffy and conspicuously ill-dressed, he soared into the mainstream consciousness as the stark contrast to the polished male pop stars who had made it big before him—Justin Timberlake and Bieber, One Direction, Bruno Mars—confounding the how exactly could he to infiltrate their elegant ranks. But as the essays have piled up over the past 15 years, dismissing his irreverent image and mass-appeal music as calculated ploys to maximize profit by appearing as relevant to consumers as possible, one important feature of Sheeran's superstardom seems to have fallen out of focus. Seamlessly combining the brightest parts of different genres and presenting them in a way that is almost universally enjoyable is a skill in itself, and one that Sheeran is uniquely gifted with.

It takes a fascinating musical vocabulary, for example, to infuse a romantic folk ballad like “Lego House,” one of Sheeran's early hits, with mile-a-minute rap bars — “And it's dark in a cold December/ But I” i got you to warm me up…” in the pre-chorus, without breaking her comfortable stride. The same can be said for 2014's 'Sing', which somehow has all the body and elasticity of a FutureSex/LoveSounds banger – producer Pharell Williams once said Bulletin board Timberlake's album was a key inspiration — while also staying grounded in Sheeran's acoustic instrumentation and rapid-fire rhyming. Other hits like 2014's R&B-rap-pop-dance number “Don't” and 2017's 12-week Billboard Hot 100 hit “Shape of You” showcase his penchant for complementing catchy sung melodic hooks with percussive lyric-based raps , based on rap percussion. that can confidently weave in and out without ever disrupting the overall feel of a song.

While he's never been the most prosaic writer, the words he chooses instead serve to fit snugly into pockets of rhyme or propel the momentum of a section forward. While it's certainly funny and not particularly clever, the lyrical and melodic simplicity of “I'm in love with the shape of you/ We push and pull like a magnet do/ Every day finding something brand new” makes it an instant hit to the listeners. memories. In the lyrics, he creates pleasant, percussive peaks that aren't weighed down by unnecessary syllables, but manage to propel the narrative forward by quickly summarizing stories (“One week, we let the story begin/ We're going out on our first date”) or touching on multiple levels of meaning (“We talk for hours and hours about sweet and sour…”)

There were definitely some stings in his catalog: references to Shrek and a — hole bleaching they have given some songs with unnecessary flaws, yes. But through all his genre and unorthodox puns, he can at least say he's forged a style that's all his own. Its mass appeal may make it “generic” by definition, but its sound is its own: Even successors to the guitar-driven pop-rock mantle – Shawn Mendes, Lewis Capaldi, Noah Kahan – haven't even come close . playful experimentation Sheeran cut his teeth, preferring safer, more traditional songwriting structures.

It's also notable that Sheeran has never been dishonest about where his scattered musical influences have come from, nor has he ever lazily copied anyone else. He has always professed his love for the likes of Damien Rice, Eminem and Eric Clapton and worked exclusively with grime artists on his 2011 EP. No. 5 Plan of Partnerships. And in an era where any male artist of his taste would score far more points by positioning himself as an aloof rock star along the lines of Oasis or the Arctic Monkeys, he fully, authentically embraced the pop world and its leaders. collaborating with Taylor Swift on 2013's “Everything Has Changed” and writing hits for the Biebs and 1D's (2012's “Little Things” and 2015's “Love Yourself,” respectively.)

All that to say, maybe Sheeran's songs aren't just soulless mash-ups of popular genres designed to be played as widely as possible, but the natural blend of a man with a genuine love and appreciation for all the styles he uses. He also happens to be very strategic when assembling these puzzle pieces into a song, pre-sensitive to which elements are most likely to create a smash hit – a personal goal he's long pursued. (“I have a data sheet emailed to me every week,” he said album-divide” target=”_blank”>GQ in 2017. “My reference point for the second album was Coldplay. This album is Springsteen.”)

The range of his sound parallels how much he does or doesn't tailor songs for commercial success. On one end are smoke-inducing songs like 2011's “You Need Me, I Don't Need You” and 2017's “New Man,” where he gives full credit to his love of laid-back, slightly goofy rap. While they may become fan classics, they're the least likely to become global hits — it's just fun. At the other extreme are his sweeping romantic ballads like “Thinking Out Loud,” “Photograph” and “Perfect,” manically crafted over decades of playing at weddings and high school proms. But of these, ask yourself: if not Sheeran, who else is ready to blast this generation's bridge with timeless juicy slow dance songs?

In the middle are all the other, so-called homogenized, post-genre songs that have something for everyone. There are many different outcomes that songwriters seek when they write music, and consequently, there are just as many measures of the quality of that music. Neither is necessarily right or wrong. Swift's goal is to tell personal stories through her songs. Pitbull wants people to dance. Adele aims to pack an emotional punch. And each of these goals requires great skill in putting pen to paper. Even if Sheeran's desire was to write songs surgically stitched together for easy listening, does he really lose recognition as one of the most innovative songwriters of his generation just because his music is created with algorithmic precision?

When one of his songs finally gets stuck in your head for weeks, you might curse his formula as evil genius. But the key word here is still “genius”.