To call All the Lost Souls a trite, cliche-ridden affair is almost too easy. James Blunt goes through all the rote motions, giving the mainstream singer-songwriter genre a tired and tedious reputation, that thanks in part to the likes of Blunt, is rightfully deserved. The arrangements are all safe and bland -nothing more than acoustic, coffeehouse strumming. It's entirely too predictable and its a shame. There are a lot of great guys with guitars oozing with passion, originality and most importantly, sincerity. James Blunt is not one of them. Blunt's voice is thin and strained, but that's not why it should be criticized. It should be criticized for trying too hard to conform to what he thinks we think the typical, young angst-ridden male should sound like. There have been some amazingly distinct male lyricists with less than technically proficient voices make themselves heard in the independent music scene in recent years -John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats and Craig Finn of the Hold Steady most notably among them. Unlike Blunt, these guys are visceral, raw and unflinching in their vocal delivery.
Inversely, on All the Lost Souls, Blunt's whispy British coo sounds as if he's looking over his shoulder, while begging for reassurance and approval the entire time. It's a lame attempt to appease the Starbuck soccer moms that made him a household name in the first place.
