His dad warned that swapping his army career for music would be difficult, but James Blunt is no middle-class fop. And steer clear of his granny's doorstep, he tells Tony Clayton-Lea.
He's compact, he's dishevelled, he's tired and he's annoyed. James Blunt, the British singer-songwriter who less than three years ago was very much an unknown quantity, is now more famous and successful than he had ever imagined. The last time we talked (in late 2005) was over a coffee some hours before a gig in Dublin's Crawdaddy, a venue that defines the word "intimate". Now, Blunt is hours away from playing the hollow barn that is the RDS Simmonscourt.
So things have changed - radically; some for the best and some for the worst. Two years ago, at the time of release of his debut album, Back to Bedlam (sales now past the 10 million mark, and counting), Blunt was hoping for a modicum of success. His profile back then, he recalls, "was undercover and underground. Even at the time of the release of the album, there was no fanfare about it. I've enjoyed the fact that it was a word-of-mouth success. Some record company people talked about it selling maybe 100,000, and I thought, no way."
What if Back to Bedlam had stiffed? An assertive reply. "I'd still be singing. Remember, I had a record out that I liked; I was over the moon just holding it. The only thing that I was sure about was that the first album existed, and I was happy about that. So, I'm certain I would have gone into a studio and made a second album; maybe it wouldn't be the same one as the latest one (All the Lost Souls) because of the journey and the experiences involved, but I definitely would have made another album. My dad said when I left the army for music that it was going to be difficult, and was I sure I was doing the right thing? I said, dad, success for me is just being a musician. We define success by fame and money, but that's not what success should be defined as. Rather, it's the pleasure and experience, of enjoying it, of expressing things."
BLUNT IS A curious mixture; he seems a genuinely decent sort, articulate, sophisticated and very much a product of Middle England's middle-classes. This is mentioned not to beat him up or berate him for his background, but rather to clarify his demeanour and bearing. Blunt's father, a former career colonel in the British army, persuaded his son to follow in his footsteps.
An army scholarship for James at Bristol University was followed by four years' training, touring and commanding. As an army captain, he experienced duty visits to Canada and the former Yugoslavia (where he led 30,000 peacekeepers).
Blunt, then, is no blithering, foppish idiot, or indeed a willing tool of the music industry. Music aside (he's not the worst singer-songwriter you'll hear blaring out of the radio, although a certain number of songs on All the Lost Souls are worryingly bland), he's a sharp card that has had to deal with massive levels of media ill-will towards him.
The following is uttered with equal measures of resignation and barely concealed contempt: "I'm really used to the tabloid media intrusion now, but there was a time when I was overwhelmed by it. That kind of press intrusion is mind-blowing, because in a way you want to fight it, to ask yourself why these human beings are treating me no longer like a human being but like something that they can make money from with any lie that springs to mind. There are costs to that, as a human being. You can see that in the likes of Britney Spears - she would be fine, I think, if there were not 100 paparazzi outside her house. And you would not be fine if there were 100 paparazzi outside your house. And so that form of press doesn't report news - it creates news, and what's more they exaggerate it and lie about it. It's an astounding job that they're in; I have had a taste of it, and I'm disheartened by it all. But I'm now in the swing of it, and can pretty much take whatever they can throw my way."
How long has it taken him to develop a thick skin? "Well, you need it if a tabloid reporter is investigating your private life and knocking on your grandmother's front door and asking her about who you might have slept with. So developing a thicker skin is not only necessary but actually quite comfortable."
Having learned the hard way that aspects of success can be associated with your grandmother being door-stepped, Blunt has taken the Zen approach and resisted becoming a whingeing rock star. "I think that side of things is something that's worth ignoring. I feel great shame for that world, however, because they're the ones creating a fantasy world of human constructs that don't exist, rather than focusing on things that are relevant. I've found a good balance; I'm out on the road touring with a close-knit team, and the audiences are turning up. It's a rewarding job, and I try and distance myself from the things that aren't about music. The notion of celebrity is best not to be focused on or celebrated.
"I don't focus on who's wearing what on stage, but instead on the music that's being produced. That's the kind of thing that gives me a greater reward. The music forms a bond between me and the audience, and although I'm on a stage I don't feel any elevation - I feel complete dependence on the audience; it's an equal two-way relationship of communication and expression. I'm inspired by that."
Blunt's army background, too, is something he focuses on less and less - despite the sense that such training has made his character what it is. Interestingly, despite his fame, success and recent wealth, he prefers the sleeping quarters of the tour bus to staying in plush hotels - the mess room ethos prevails.
"There are a few things that having been in the army has given me," he explains. "The most obvious would be touring and travelling with a team of people and being reliant on their expertise. Also, my time in the army puts the entire media/tabloid circus into perspective. No one in a war situation cares about who is cool and who is not cool; no one in Central Africa, dying of disease, cares about who is cool and who is not cool.
"My accent and background? The notion of the class system? Who cares? Not anyone in Central Africa, that's for sure. In the armywhen it was all going down, I was dependent on working-class people and they were dependent on me, and no one ever raised that issue with me, because our backgrounds didn't matter. Why? Because we were dealing with real things, and it's only when you're dealing with unreal things that certain matters become irrelevant."
All the Lost Soulsis on Warner Records