funeral at Woodbridge Methodist Church and the CD recording was played during the service along with some of Stuart’s favourite Queen records. So many people wanted to pay their respects that they filled the church and the hall next door, into which they piped the music so that everyone could hear it. Afterwards Ed presented Robert, and Stuart’s mother Jackie, with a signed copy of the CD. ‘It is a lovely song,’ observes Robert.
Before the funeral, Ed’s fifteenth birthday party was a chance to cheer himself up, as well as his friends. Ed went to a lot of trouble setting up a PA system in the spacious living room at home and he and his dad drove off to Ipswich Station to collect Gary. This was the first time they had met him. Gary played a hugely appreciated set of his songs to ‘Ed and all his teenage buddies, who told me they loved the show’.
He stayed up late talking with John and Ed and a few of his mates. They reminisced about Ireland. Gary is from Portlaoise, fifty miles west of Dublin. His father, also called John, ran a folk club at Kavanagh’s pub, which hosted many of the musicians Ed most admired, including Andy Irvine, an original member of Planxty. Gary still has the picture of Andy, his father and a teenage Ed taken there.
Most of the country had seen a loop pedal for the first time when the Scottish singer–songwriter KT Tunstall used one to mesmerising effect on a 2004 edition of Later … with Jools Holland. She stole the show when she created a one-woman-band effect for her song ‘Black Horse and the Cherry Tree’. But Gary had first become interested in looping two years earlier when he had played at the Lobby Bar, a music pub in Cork. He was on a bill that included the acclaimed American singer–songwriter Joseph Arthur and could scarcely believe Joseph wasn’t using a backing track. Gary had marvelled at how he could make all those sounds live through a loop station. The music business is full of such chance connections. That gig in a tiny bar in Cork would lead indirectly to one of the most important ingredients in the development of the Ed Sheeran sound.
By coincidence both Gary Dunne and Damien Rice had supported Joseph Arthur at one time. Ed was thrilled to hear that Gary had also opened for Damien Rice on tour and told him about the gig at Whelan’s he had been to with his cousin Laura. Gary observes, ‘He was a hardcore Damien Rice fan back then.’
Gary found meeting the Sheeran family a ‘very warm and enjoyable’ experience: ‘In the morning Imogen cooked a big, beautiful fry-up and we went for a walk near by.’ Before he left Framlingham, Gary went through the process of looping with Ed. He showed him the Boss RC20 model he used and recommended that Ed try it. It was a simple but rugged piece of equipment that could survive being hauled around by an impatient teenager.
Ed went straight out and bought one, which cost roughly £250. Looping was not a technique you could learn overnight and it took him well over two years of constant practice to feel that he had finally mastered the pedal – he soon found that one mistake could throw a whole song out of synch. The new skill, however, did allow him to improve ‘We Are’ and turn it into a multi-layered ballad, recognisable as the one he would perform many times in the future.
Gary was happy to offer advice by phone or email and they remained on very good terms. It was a two-way street: Ed had videoed Gary’s gig at his house, chopped it into individual songs and put the entire thing on Gary’s Myspace page.
Ed was of the generation that appreciated the power of a good live video online. Gary observes, ‘I was ten years older and just didn’t understand at the time. He was so digital savvy and web savvy in a way that I wasn’t and I wasn’t really interested in. I remember him telling me, “You’ve got to get out there.” He kind of ran my Myspace for six months.’
Gary and Ed never composed together. He explains, ‘Our connection isn’t about songs. It’s about live looping. I suppose I passed on a craft to him, a way of making music. Of course, he has since evolved massively but the craft remains the same. He is just using it in a much more complex way than I ever did.
‘Looping is like playing a different instrument. It’s not just getting onstage with a guitar and singing a song. It’s getting onstage with your voice and your guitar and creating a sound. You are using a different canvas.’
Gary is proud of his part in Ed’s journey to global success: ‘When I sit in an audience of 80,000 people and I see Ed do his thing with an acoustic guitar and a loop station, I can hear a little DNA of where he and I connected. It’s a beautiful, beautiful thing.’
6
As soon as his voice broke, Ed’s vocals improved dramatically. The time was right for him to have some lessons. He struck lucky with Claire Weston, a Framlingham-based singer and one of the best-known sopranos in Suffolk. She had been a leading light of the English National Opera before settling back in her home county to teach at Framlingham College and Woodbridge School. She also took on pupils from Thomas Mills.
Claire’s favourite piece of music is Verdi’s Requiem, although she is very partial to Benjamin Britten as well. Neither composer featured on Ed’s mixed tapes but she also admitted a liking for The Beatles, a connection shared by many of the players in Ed’s journey. Under her expert guidance, Ed’s singing began to resemble the familiar style of the future. Still a little shaky in places, he sounded more like the Ed Sheeran on his next CD venture, an album he called simply Ed Sheeran. The title may seem uninspired but it followed a long-established method in the music business of getting your name in front of the public.
The music revealed a gentler, more thoughtful Ed. He had discovered that he wrote in waves so most of the songs for Ed Sheeran have a similar feel. They were pleasant without having the extra ingredient that grabbed you by the throat. He was in proper singer–songwriter territory, with a series of considered ballads including the poignant ‘In Memory’ and ‘The Sea’, which reflected a more serious-minded teenager.
In the 1970s this album might have been considered bedsit music – introspective tracks that you would put on the stereo, lie on the bed, gaze at the ceiling and consider the injustice of the world. Fittingly, on one of the catchiest tracks, ‘Spark’, he says the world is harsh and he is ‘stuck in the dark’.
He highlighted his change of mood from Spinning Man and The Orange Room by calling one of the tracks ‘Quiet Ballad of Ed’. The ‘moody’ song had been banished to history. The lyrics are more mature, although his vocals still sound young. He didn’t completely forget his earlier teenage self: the guitar in ‘Billy Ruskin’ is very reminiscent of his old favourite ‘Sweet Child of Mine’.
Perhaps the most interesting track is ‘Pause’, which fused rap and melody, as so much of his music would in the future. The rap was provided by his cousin Jethro, whose verse – including a name check to Sheeran Lock – fits snugly into a catchy song that included one of Ed’s anthem-like choruses.
The next step in the musical education of Ed Sheeran was to make his first video. He went along to Bruizer Creative Film & Video Agency in nearby Woodbridge to make a film to accompany him singing the opening number on the album, ‘Open Your Ears’, which, unusually for Ed at the time, featured a piano melody as well as backing vocals from his cousin Laura. She’s not in the video, which showed Ed, in a red Nizlopi T-shirt and smart black blazer, gazing upwards at a camera. The whole three minutes is filmed from above with Ed, looking very clean cut with neatly brushed hair, against a spinning backdrop – a spinning man. He is standing on a black paw print, which he had adopted as his new logo and featured on the front of the CD cover. He may have got the idea from the family cat or from the sign by the roadside outside Framlingham for the Earl
