“We tried. Honestly we gave it a good three or four listens from start to finish, just searching for something, anything positive to say about the easiest target in showbusiness (or, for that matter, in any business). Is there a point, we thought, in making yet more gags about how James Blunt is posh / is a wet blanket /has a name that so handily rhymes with the word that sums up the world’s opinion on him? Will it really put even the tiniest of dents in the inevitable nine zillion album sales?
It is with this in mind that, rather than wasting any space on such things as describing the actual music here (insipid, beige, devoid of… oh come on, you know) we now present some of the lyrical howlers that more effectively demonstrate his Satanic levels of hideousness. “Why don’t you give me some love / I’ve taken a shitload of drugs!” he rasps on “Give Me Some Love”; “But the wall come tumbling down / Will you go down on me?” some poor sap by the name of “Annie” is asked; “Is a poor man rich in solitude, or will Mother Eart complain?” he ponders on “I Really Want You”. For the best one of all though we must return to “Give Me Some Love”: “Me and my guitar play my way… and it makes them frown”. Frankly, James, that is the understatement of the fucking century.”
(Hamish McBain, Time Out Magazine)