Ed Sheeran – Subtract Review

Subtract yourself from listening to this one. Get the pun in early. That’ll do it. Ed Sheeran is worth no more than puns. His dedication to the mathematical side of life and the easy-going pop relatability which is churned out in gyms, supermarkets and radio stations with a simpler mix to it has steadied him as the empty man of music. His voice grating, his lyrics flatlining and in desperate need of at least a tinge of change, the first of two releases from Sheeran this year is an inevitable wash. His commitment to common denominators of sound, of the overlapping and accompanying ideals of music for the masses is a real detraction for Subtract. Nothing makes life feel stagnant like fifty minutes with Sheeran. 

Aggressively simple tones and themes are present on Subtract – a series of absolute and middle-of-the-road pieces. Even with the additions of personal exposure, there is little to love about Sheeran on this one. It is not cool or uncool to hate him, just a knee-jerk response to plain trivialities. Opener Boat is one of many shots to the heart, his vocal range a strong and wasted expense. Eyes Closed has the same plucking used for cheap horror trailers though love in the throat is a nice switch. Sheeran again presents his voice as his strongest tool – isolated in a near-acapella piece before the rising production paves the way to some brief flutters with success. Dusty is the first mortal sin and a reality check for those expecting something of surprise quality from Sheeran.  

Once you have heard one vaguely acoustic pop artist with strings backing them to incite emotional range, you have heard them all. Is there any differentiation between what occurs here and what unfolded on the likes of Lewis Capaldi and Sam Smith’s records? Not at all. These are the same beats, production marks and themes. It is a closed club and a boring one at that. Emotionally plain music for people who still wear fluffy onesies and hold an obsession with Disney. The likes of Sycamore were heard all before, not just earlier on Subtract but in the previous works of Sheeran. This piece may be dedicated to this person or that idea, but the bulk of these songs lack the change necessary to provide any sense of growth for the artist behind them. It feels as though there is no person back there, a buffed and polished machine whirring away. No heart even when it is put on the line, is a dangerous place for any creative to find themselves.  

The often-repeated meme of ten cheesy singles is rather apt here. Fourteen songs of absolutely fine quality – no presence to them or heart within, even when actively trying for it. Guilty pleasure is the nicest way to label this one, though how much guilt can be felt for listening to one of the most popular acts of a generation is unknowable. Quite a bit, or none at all, depending on the crowd. Blend in, then. Stick Subtract on when the mood calls for a complete mental reset. A palette cleanser after veering out of the stiff Radio One-listening, I’m a Celebrity-watching box. Keep contained in the foundations of pop culture. The harder the fall and all that. Subtract is as potent and streamlined as necessary to appeal to those who use music as background noise or as something not to explore but to consume. Sheeran ticks those boxes.