Instead, a good 50% of the tracks retreat to safer ground – slowly strummed songs of devotion, packed with valentine card sentiments.
“You think you don’t have beauty in abundance, but you do,” he sings on Camera, recycling the message that One Direction delivered with greater conviction in What Makes You Beautiful.
He’s better on In Other Words, a pretty ballad that revels in the tiny details of domestic bliss: “Give me how you check the locks before we sleep… And how without your breakfast tea you’re incomplete”. It’s recorded up close, the hammers audibly striking the piano strings, lending the song a convincing intimacy.
By contrast, A Little More finds Sheeran baring his teeth. Over an ironically jaunty R&B groove he destroys a friend who’s exploited their relationship, calling them a “prick” whose hollow apologies belong “in a bin”.
It’s one of the only moments his nice guy persona comes undone. And, again, it leaves you wondering what else was left unsaid.
On Opening, he alludes to the press intrusion that forces him to wear a disguise when he takes his daughter to the playground; and he briefly addresses the two court cases he faced for plagiarism (“I won both”).
Where’s that guy for the rest of the album? And why is he still singing about wanting to dance with you at this party?
On Symmetry he even resurrects Shape Of You’s analogy of two bodies pulling together like magnets.
Is that a fun call-back, or lazy writing? And what’s with the magnets anyway? Maybe it’s me, but magnets seem about as sexy as a damp flannel.
But look, Sheeran’s way with a tune is inarguable. And while his lyrics can be clumsy, their unguarded simplicity bypasses criticism.
For people inclined to his music (and 200 million album sales suggests that’s a big demographic) Play is a compact, enjoyable record that plays to his strengths.
For everyone else, it offers a tantalising glimpse of what Sheeran could achieve if he didn’t have his sights permanently trained on streaming algorithms.