Ever since the dawn of his career in 2011 with Plus (stylized as “+”), Ed Sheeran—the world’s favorite ginger—has, through songs such as “The A Team,” “I See Fire,” “Perfect,” “Shape of You,” and “Photograph,” communicated universal truths that permeate the inner soul. Yet, more than a month in, the British singer-songwriter’s latest ode to music, Play, is yet to sink in.
Borrowing Hindu and Persian sounds and weaving them into solid bangers like “Azizam,” “Sapphire,” and “Symmetry” belies the album’s creative fatigue and the sense that Sheeran, for all his polish and talk of a new, livelier sonic dispensation, is playing it safe. The charts say it too: this project is his third in a row not to top the Billboard 200 chart, although he is doing modestly on the streaming front.
“Not the pop star they say they prefer/When your career’s in a risky place,/Everything seems like a big mistake,” Ed stunningly admits on the aptly named opening track, “Opening.” It’s like he’s hit a roadblock, unsure of what to offer his 97.2 million listeners on Spotify. Much of what he eventually comes up with is true, raw, and beautifully careless; in many ways, a “polar opposite” to his sixth studio album Subtract (stylized as “–”). Still, it’s a stagnation that makes revisiting the latter all the more rewarding. Subtract remains Sheeran’s last true ode to melancholy stories, a project stuffed full of profound burdens of grief, fear, and uncertainty, yet somehow tender in its despair.
The finale to his arithmetic-themed musical career spells out his rough 2022: a lost best friend, SB.TV founder Jamal Edwards; pregnant wife Cherry diagnosed with a potentially fatal tumor; looming court cases over plagiarism accusations on his hit songs “Shape of You” and “Thinking Out Loud.” These experiences shaped the emotional undertone of Subtract (and, to some extent, his latest album as well), resulting in a pervasive sense of depression that cascades throughout the 48-minute marathon.
Subtract’s songwriting and style are reminiscent of Plus, but with a different register. Unlike the latter, which kickstarted the singer-songwriter’s famous mathematics journey with a dynamic and energetic vibe, the culmination that is the former is more despondent. It largely features depressing and sluggish tracks, with the absence of drums being hugely felt (until “Dusty” comes up in the middle eight). Flanked by a melancholy but elegant ensemble of morose piano, downcast strings, and a scattering of muted electronics, Sheeran’s dependable acoustic guitar resurfaces once again. And although his albums have always included tracks with one, it feels like the days of Plus and Multiply (stylized as “x”).
In the ear opener, “Boat,” the Grammy winner doesn’t spare listeners his pain with the lyrics, “They say that all scars will heal, but I know./Maybe I won’t./But the waves won’t break my boat.” The last line is clearly a testament to the drowning feeling and overall vulnerability he felt following the slew of tragic events, with “waves” signifying turbulence. Lovely vocals and straightforward guitar strums are precisely what make this song a typical Sheeran opener.
Four tracks in, he once more mourns his losses, singing, “I am so afraid, I need you now/So tell me how, how my life goes on with you gone./I suppose I’ll sink like a stone if you leave me now.” The song titled “Life Goes On” has him asking difficult questions like “how.” This questioning about life and its antics goes on in “End of Youth,” undeniably troubled by self-doubt.
Producer Aaron Dessner’s instrumentals on “End of Youth,” “Dusty,” and “Curtains”—the entire project, as a matter of fact—speak to the producer’s subtle sound palette of lightly beat-driven electronic rhythms, mellow piano, and quiet strings’ propensity to sync beautifully with heart-pouring confessionals or rock-happy songs (“Castle On The Hill” is a distant example). The circumstances surrounding Cherry Seaborn’s cancer diagnosis are described in detail in “Sycamore” and “Toughest,” with the latter complimenting Seaborn for her perseverance throughout the whole ordeal.
The romantic ballad “Colourblind” reveals Sheeran’s inner Picasso as he aims to splash colors on the night sky with his one true love. Surely, it would fare well at weddings and honeymoons, much like “Perfect” and “Thinking Out Loud” did.
It is no surprise that the lead single, “Eyes Closed,” written by Max Martin, kept the same pop tone as that of his previous album, Equals (stylized as “=”). However, this is quite different. The three-minute “Eyes Closed” is the perfect example of his masterstroke in mixing pain, anxiety, and a bit of his drinking stints into an enjoyable pop cliché. Although a bonus track, it’s hard to think of a more fitting curtain closer than “Moving On.” All the pain we’ve sat with through the first fourteen songs is finally purged out “where they belong.”
After the last stroke of the guitar on Subtract, an ensuing silence evokes the impression of a gentle embrace from a considerate companion, conveying warmth alongside a touch of caution. Sheeran combines impeccable melody and incisive and perceptive lyrics to deliver a sonic masterpiece that impresses as much as it confounds. For the artiste who crafted it, it is a soul-opener. For the ears welcoming them, it can be anything. After all, for the first time, according to him, crowd-pleasing was not on the agenda. Aquatic metaphors and somewhat suicidal lyrics plastered all over the project thankfully never materialized, but it evidently shaped him forever.
It’s right to not get the wrong messaging here: Subtract was no commercial darling. Half a million copies don’t square well with the 8.5 million Divide (stylized as “÷”) commanded at home alone. Yet numbers and fanfare were never the point. The project clearly favored the art of healing, feeling, and reminding listeners of the fragile beauty in breaking down over chart domination.
Anyone juggling grief and its consequent permanent scar could plug (or re-plug, whichever’s the case) their eardrums and ready themselves for a long walk on the “hills of Aberfeldy’s” melancholic realm, with both “eyes closed.”
Play isn’t a disaster by any means; it’s competent, polished, and even occasionally inspired. But where Subtract bled raw emotion, this feels like a calculated product of survival rather than expression, no matter how much the singer-songwriter argues to the contrary. If his soul is laid bare in the former, it’s reinforced with some armor in the latter.