James Blunt interview: Blunt and too the point

His music has brought him international adoration and public loathing. But James Blunt assures Chitra Ramaswamy that for all the fame and floozies, his heart is still in his songs

IS IT any wonder James Blunt is sick of being asked why people dislike him so much? In fact, the pint-sized ex-army man, who a comedian once referred to as having "the dubious honour of being his own rhyming slang", takes it pretty well when I bring up the Blunt backlash. He is used to it, and is even more used to defending himself against it.

"What you're talking about doesn't exist in the way you're portraying it," he says in the thin, reedy voice that is just one of the reasons why he gets on people's wick. The only thing wispier than Blunt's voice is his feathered hair. "Walking along the street, people come up to me and say, 'all right, you're James Blunt, nice to meet you mate'. Everyone is really friendly." Just before he came to meet me in London, he was out buying fish and chips, and the man behind the counter, an elderly woman and a cabbie all approached him with a kind word. He looks like he might be about to drag me outside to witness the strength of goodwill towards him for myself.

But no, he's whipping out the statistics. "Fourteen million albums, three million sold in Britain alone," he says of Back To Bedlam, his debut, which included 'You're Beautiful', one of the biggest selling singles in history, the first British single to top the US charts in almost a decade and, for the anti-Blunt brigade, the first reason to loathe his quivering warbles. Last year's follow-up, All The Lost Souls, which has just come out in a deluxe edition with a new single and live versions of songs from his mammoth world tour, has sold a more modest 3.5 million worldwide. But Blunt's point is sound: no matter how much critics stuff their fingers in their ears, he continues to shift albums at a phenomenal rate. He has toured a staggering 180 cities this year alone. If he was faced with one of his detractors, he would say: "I can't hear you for the crowd".

Now he's asking me a question. "If we looked online, how many negative things could you find about me in a day?" he demands. I tell him I have no idea. "Well, what I know is that I played to 8,000 people in Dijon three nights ago, Bordeaux the night before, that was another 8,000. In Germany alone this year I've done over 100,000, in London, 15,000. Are you going to find that many negative comments? Anything you can find, I'm probably outnumbering it. You'd have to be going way out there to find a negative in what is an insanely positive story."

Yet the question remains: why do people find Blunt so annoying? In 2006, he came fourth in a list of things that Brits find most irritating, more unpopular than warm beer or traffic wardens. His music was banned from one radio station following pressure from listeners. Noel Gallagher said he would like to see his head on a plate. Perhaps it's simply because Blunt is posh and being middle class is a heinous crime in pop music. Or maybe it's how ubiquitous he has become, spawning all those highly emotional male singer-songwriters, from James Morrison to Paulo Nutini, both of whom have tried to distance themselves from him. Others would simply say it's Blunt's music, though this is also what is so loved about him.

In many ways Blunt seems like he couldn't care less. He is cocky and confident rather than glum or defensive. But he also appears to read his press. At first he tells me he doesn't, then he refers to "when" he will read this interview. Asking Blunt to name the most outrageous lies that have appeared about him in the press, he reels them off. "That I had bought a gun that fires rocks to scare away fans outside my house," he laughs. "And I heard I had installed a sunbed in my tour bus and fallen asleep underneath it."

It's been a charmed life, studded with success. Blunt's family has a long history of military service, and he grew up on army bases around Europe. At seven he was sent to boarding school, by 16 he had his pilot's licence, and he graduated from Bristol University with a sociology degree. He entered the forces for six years, rising to captain, serving in Kosovo – where he strapped his guitar to a tank – and standing guard at the Queen Mother's coffin. From there, it has been a fast, steep ascent to international pop stardom with all the attendant Brit awards and Ivor Novellos, the villa in Ibiza, the entertaining bikini-clad supermodels on yachts, the "shipload" of drugs he refers to in the song 'Give Me Some Love', the trail of women he has been linked to (the model Petra Nemcova, Lindsay Lohan, Tara Palmer Tomkinson, two Pussycat Dolls), and, of course, the backlash.

He is most cagey discussing his womanising reputation. His new single, 'Love, Love, Love', is a flaccid rock number about setting women who fall for him free, and in the video Blunt is surrounded by, yes, gorgeous women. "There were lots of men in it, too," he says. "I put that down to your perception of it. I know I've got long hair so it's easy to mistake me for a girl, but certainly not a beautiful one." He flashes me a smile.

This, remember, is the man who bragged: "I once found myself in a swimming pool in LA with nine naked models and I was the only bloke. It was the only time I wished my mates were there, purely to spectate." But Blunt insists his music comes first. "Why would anyone want to know?" he asks. "If we were to go out as mates, you could work out whether you think I'm a nice person or not, but what I do is sell music. I connect to people through my music and that's my passion. The reason people connect with (my music] around the world is because I'm singing about real, human emotions. The songs are pretty open, pretty honest."

He wrote most of the songs on All The Lost Souls in Ibiza, where he is now based, though touring means he only spends a fortnight a year there. He finds the island, with its mixture of hedonism and natural beauty, inspiring, and in a telling moment says that it sums him up.

He seems unwilling to admit that he enjoys his success, which is hardly a crime. It's as though Blunt fears people knowing about him partying with Paris Hilton because he thinks it will lessen the "honesty" of his music and the connection with his fans that obviously means so much to him. "I think life is for living," he eventually concedes. "If you say, hey, I've got something fun we can do, I'm with you. If I reckon I can find something fun for us to do, I reckon we should go and do it. It's not enjoying success, it's enjoying life, and you find it in shallow environments and you find it in depth. I'm a human being."

Here's another thing: Blunt often refers to himself as "a human being", which at first seems strange and rather self-evident. Sometimes he uses it as part of his defence, but also because he is determined to be seen as normal, not a celebrity. "If you want to turn it into a story to make money out of, that's trying to turn me into a celebrity and I don't enjoy it," he says. "It's taking away from what we're better at. We're not dogs who sniff at each other. We're humans. You either check out where I'm spending my holiday or you listen to the music. And you know what? I think you should listen to the music." v

All The Lost Souls, the deluxe edition, is released tomorrow (Atlantic) www.jamesblunt.com