One journalist’s observation: “[A]sk anyone about it now and they will tell you it’s annoying. It’s a terrible song. No one wants to hear it. A former colleague who had it as the first dance at her wedding says that is now her ‘greatest shame’.” – Issy Sampson @ The Guardian
The public’s view: 1.64 / 5.00, the worst #1 hit of 2006
Many people once enjoyed “You’re Beautiful” but then grew to passionately hate it after it was overplayed. My view of James Blunt’s chart-topping record has followed the opposite trajectory. Upon first listen, I interpreted it as a pathetically fawning ode of praise for a woman. It was like something Lionel Richie might have written in a bout of intense depression after going four months without getting a gold record. Later, however, I realized that I hadn’t given the song enough credit. It is not a miserable love ballad, but a contradictory internal dialogue taking place inside the drug-addled brain of a disturbed young man. On that basis, I kind of like it.
The turning point in my opinion of the song came when I was on a vacation in another country several years after it hit #1. I was riding in a vehicle in which I had no control over the radio, and the opening strains of “You’re Beautiful” came creeping into my ears. The first few mournful notes have always reminded me of the sad music that was played at the end of each episode of The Incredible Hulk. This is appropriate, because “You’re Beautiful” has been known to provoke listeners into Hulk-like rages in which they turn green and destroy everything in sight. I tried to ignore James Blunt and think of more pleasant things, like the colossal spider I had seen scurrying around my hotel room which was probably now intermingled with my belongings. But then one of the lyrics grabbed my attention: “She could see from my face that I was fucking high.” Until then, I had always heard a different version in which Blunt was “flying high.” Without U.S. censorship, I was finally getting to appreciate “You’re Beautiful” as it was meant to be.
This one change affects the entire meaning of the song. Now I know that the singer is not just “flying high” from seeing a pretty girl on the London Tube; he was already stoned halfway to Glasgow before he boarded the train. Perhaps this is why he keeps shifting back and forth between addressing the woman directly and speaking of her in the third person. His thoughts about the situation also veer from one extreme to another. Initially, his life is brilliant and he has a plan to somehow woo this woman away from the dude she is with. A few seconds later, he is dejected and has no idea what to do. (The video suggests that he ultimately kills himself by jumping into the sea.) And what was the moment they shared that will last ‘til the end? She probably asked where he buys his weed, and he erroneously thought she was flirting with him. Never mind that her boyfriend was right there. This moment might not last ‘til the end, but it will last until James Blunt gets punched in the face.
This delusional narrative wouldn’t work without Blunt’s unique voice, which is a mix of Dave Matthews and Grover. It’s exactly the type of voice you would associate with the weird guy on the Piccadilly line who reeks of cannabis and who giggles uncontrollably every time the conductor announces that the train is headed to Cockfosters. I think I would break out in a rash if I heard a conventional romantic balladeer like Julio Iglesias or Barry Manilow singing “You’re Beautiful”.
I keep a copy of “You’re Beautiful” in the low-priority folder of my computer’s MP3 library, and it pops up randomly in my listening sessions maybe once every six months. This is just often enough to remind me of how this dark story was so widely misunderstood as a mushy love song. I am amused that it managed to sneak its way into environments such as proms and weddings where it was completely inappropriate.
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