James Blunt invited Kiwis into his generational church of nostalgia on Tuesday night. Photo / Dave Simpson - Getty Images
More than 20 years on from the release of his smash hit album Back To Bedlam, English crooner James Blunt turned Auckland’s Spark Arena into a joyous cathedral of generational nostalgia, writes Mitchell Hageman.
I was secretly dreading having to review James Blunt’s Auckland show.
Not because I harboured any hatred for the affable Englishman or even disliked his yacht-friendly brand of soft alternative music.
It was for a rather petty, personal reason, one that I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if others like me in the 25+ range also might have experienced.
Growing up, on every family holiday car trip to the Coromandel, Blunt’s record-breaking 2004 album Back To Bedlam played on repeat - and before long, I knew every single word.
His music, and Back To Bedlam specifically, captured a moment in time, bringing back good memories of growing up in the early to mid-2000s.
You’re Beautiful was often the slow dance at my school discos (and I remember we would lovingly groan and try to sing along when it came on). Wisemen was paired with smells of sausages on the beachfront BBQ, and me, coming up to the deck after a swim without a care in the world.
This is why I was worried. Would Blunt and his music, after 20 years, fail to evoke those fuzzy feelings and come across as outdated, irrelevant, and, dare I say, boring?
The answer, as I found out, was an emphatic no.
Not only did Blunt’s Spark Arena sermon play the crowd’s hunger for nostalgia like a fiddle, he also gave us a healthy dose of stand-up humour, self-deprecation, and most importantly, heart.
From the moment this jean-wearing ex-soldier took the stage, we were all spellbound followers in the church of James Blunt. Hands were raised, bodies swayed, and Kiwi voices rang as loudly as mine had done in the backseat of the car all those years ago.
The proceedings fittingly started with a screen montage of the era that we all associate with Blunt: 2000-2010: George Bush, Brad Pitt, Michael Jackson appeared before the man himself sauntered onstage.
Judging by the massive grin on his face, the preacher was as pleased to see us as we were to see him.
High kicked things off, and I immediately welled up with happy tears, almost in sync with the 20-something guy with the moustache behind me, who had his arm around his mid-60s dad.
“There’s the hit, now it’s all downhill from here,” Blunt joked after we all united for his most famous hymn, You’re Beautiful.
We weren’t going downhill, the nostalgia train had barely left the station and was about to climb the mountain at full speed.
Goodbye My Lover, Tears and Rain, So Long, Jimmy - they came fast, we sang, we laughed, we cried, and we told each other about the time and place we’d first heard it or whose iPod you first listened to it on.
Love him or hate him, Blunt is a natural showman. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was either hilarious or poignant.
Be it the Zillenials and Millennials like me who were “forced to listen to the album by their parents”, the partners dragged along (“I wouldn’t go to a James Blunt concert either,” the star quipped), or the day one fan who “helped him buy his house in Ibiza” - Blunt wanted to make sure everyone got their money’s worth.
“Were any of you conceived to You’re Beautiful?” he said, as we all let out a unanimous yet well-meaning groan. Chances are that a fair few of us probably were.
Blunt’s vocals were a topic of debate for a couple walking out after, who noted he missed some of Back To Bedlam’s famous high notes.
I, for one, loved that his trademark rasp had gotten even raspier with age. The sharp edges only added to his warmth and authenticity. That’s Blunt’s trademark - just the right amount of charm.
After Back To Bedlam had finished, Blunt presented us with a choice: listen to two hours of his “new unreleased album” or his radio hits. Joke’s on us, because he “didn’t have a new album and didn’t need to make one”, so the hits came thick and fast.
Stay The Night, 1973, Postcards, and OK sounded just like they did on Classic Hits at school pick up and drop off, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when Blunt’s emotional Monsters saw cell phones light up the church like remembrance candles.
Yes, wearing an All Blacks jersey to your encore is something we’ve seen celebs do time and time again, but this felt more authentic, as if Blunt was saying, ‘I’m with you, through all the battles’.
And then came the obligatory photo of the crowd “so the wives know we are genuinely here” (a gag that probably got the biggest laugh of the night).
While some may have gone in expecting a solemn, sit-down show with heavy themes and silence, Blunt gave us the opposite - a multigenerational church-style celebration that will be remembered by families for years to come.
“Totally emotional, or ‘Totes Emosh’ as the kids would say,” he posted on social media soon after the gig.
Yes, I was scared to review him, but now I just want to regale him with tales of my Coromandel car trips over a beer. Like thousands of other Kiwis in the church of Blunt, my nostalgia cup is well and truly full.
Mitchell Hageman joined the Herald’s entertainment and lifestyle team in 2024. He previously worked as a multimedia journalist for Hawke’s Bay Today.