Blunt promises no second instalment of misery

British star James Blunt promises to explore happier themes in his next album.

It's day 502 of James Blunt's Back To Bedlam world domination tour - a relentless march to victory that began 4 million album sales ago in February 2004 with a slot supporting Katie Melua in Dublin.

Now, many miles later, on a wintry afternoon in Philadelphia, the radio station WXPN 88.5 is proud to present James Blunt, in association with an Illinois-based conglomerate.

From a battered case, the most played, most successful British artist of 2005 gets out his favourite 1966 Gibson acoustic guitar. In torn and frayed Levi's, sensible jumper and knackered Asics trainers, Blunt perches on a stool in this windowless bunker. He's short and slight but with a hint of bicep bulge. This rosy-cheeked former captain in the Life Guards looks like a scruffy mature student who needs a haircut.

The only thing bling about the 28-year-old responsible for the biggest-selling album of the year is a gold signet ring on his left pinkie, bearing the family crest of the Hampshire Blounts - the original spelling of his name. (No, he didn't change his name to appear less posh. "Blunt" is simply how you pronounce "Blount".)

For the benefit of WXPN's listeners, he runs through You're Beautiful, the neverending ballad of last year, the single even Blunt got so sick of that he had his record company delete it.

Then he sings Goodbye My Lover. The radio station DJ is floored by the song's forlornness. How did he conjure that emotion, he wonders?

"I blame her, obviously," sniffs Blunt in his clipped, strangely girly tones.

What can we expect from his second album? "I've definitely got some happier things to write about - it won't be a second instalment of the misery." Does he keep up with any of his Army buddies? Yep, a few "have dropped back in from Afghanistan, Sierra Leone, Iraq - it's weird for them to be at my shows". Nope, he's not averse to the idea of playing for the troops abroad. "I'd love to go back to Kosovo - take away the humans and it's a really special place."

Another PR commitment professionally acquitted, Blunt heads upstairs to the on-site live-music venue, the World Cafe. It's only him and keyboard player Paul "Beardy" Beard performing tonight. The sell-out crowd of 300 rapturously applaud all the songs from Back To Bedlam. He tells them that No Bravery is a song from Kosovo in 1999 - as a reconnaissance officer leading a squadron of Nato peacekeeping troops he witnessed atrocities he is understandably reluctant to discuss.

"This is the only happy song in the set so enjoy it," he says by way of introduction to Wisemen.

Sublime tunes and angsty heartache punctured by blokey banter, played by a flirty, poetic action man with a pukka accent: it's a winning combination. The crowd goes mental.

Gig done, it's time to meet his public before a three-hour drive to New York. If James Blunt is tired he isn't showing it; he can get by on three hours' sleep a night, he says. Might officer-training at Sandhurst have made him disciplined and task-oriented? Or even just better at getting out of bed in the morning?

"Um, maybe. I was pretty confident that I was capable of doing music before I was in the Army," he says. "I'd decided from an early age, I guess ... "

He will concede that, having been sent to Harrow aged 7, he's perhaps better equipped than most to be away from home so much. But he knows what people think of his officer-class background, the affluent military family. Of the Army-funded private schooling and university degree, the stint at Sandhurst and the four years serving Queen and country, in Kosovo and later on ceremonial Royal duties in London. It's not very rock'n'roll, as Liam Gallagher would define the term.

Finally he says, "The answer is: I don't know. But I'm not inspecting their bunks on the tour bus." Pause. Smirk. "Not too often."

In Britain his shows are huge affairs with venues like Glasgow's 10,000-capacity SECC and Cardiff's 7500-capacity International Arena sold out. When your first CD has shifted more than 2 million copies in Britain - beating Coldplay, Robbie Williams and Oasis - silly numbers abound.

More manageable numbers are to be found in America, where Back To Bedlam came out in October, one year after its British release.

It's early days in Blunt's assault on the western front - this is his first headlining public show in the US. But if tonight's reaction is anything to go by, it seems a fair bet that America will follow Canada, Australia, and little old New Zealand, and fall for James Blunt, too.

He knows all about marketing and music. At Bristol University, he switched from aerospace engineering to sociology, which he found interesting because "you could direct it the way you wanted". As he'd wanted to be a musician from the age of 14, he pointed the subject of his sociology dissertation towards his ambition. Its title: "The Commodification of Image - Production of a Pop Idol."

He found sociology useful for songwriting, too. "There are some aspects that are relevant to the songs I'm writing. About the way humans interact, the way we are as social beings ... those [topics] are kind of relevant."

When he wants to be, Blunt can be pithy and funny. But while an unfailingly polite host - he lets me hang about his dressing room as much as I like - there's a reserve, a stiffness about him. Even when surrounded by giggling fans he displays steely control. It's like he's still on duty.

Maybe he's just making the most of his success. It seems like he came from nowhere last year, reaching out to untold millions who feel marginalised by most rock and pop music. Who were waiting for someone who knew their way round human interaction and social conscience as well as they did a good tune.

His first gig was in 2000, at the tiny Water Rats pub in King's Cross, while he was still in the Army. He played the London pub circuit for two years before being picked up by his management, Twenty First Artists, which also looks after Elton John.

More than one record company backed off, fearing he was too posh to push on the record-buying public. It was at a gig at an industry showcase festival in Austin, Texas, that Linda Perry - hit songwriter to Pink, Christina Aguilera and Gwen Stefani - decided to sign Blunt to her Custard label.

Even then, Bedlam was out for almost nine months before You're Beautiful began its climb up the charts.

There are other understandable reasons for his standoffishness. He's been slagged off all year, by the music industry, media and musical peers alike, as the epitome of MOR tedium.

The tabloids have slithered over his past, tracking down Army buddies, doorstepping his parents and digging up the ex-girlfriend about whom he reportedly wrote You're Beautiful - Dixie Chassay, a casting director and now paramour of actor Tom Hollander (he refuses to confirm if She's The One). One of the co-writers on Back To Bedlam has been trying to squeeze more money out of him. A tragedy from his younger days was dragged out and the facts twisted to cause him maximum damage.

The night after Philadelphia, James Blunt and full band are playing the first of two nights at the Bowery Ballroom (capacity: 550). The atmosphere is intense and boozy.

Top brass from his British label are over for the show. Also in attendance is someone who looks a lot like Camilla Bowler, the long-term girlfriend he reportedly split with before allegedly hooking up with one of the Pussycat Dolls. He plays a couple of new songs - Same Mistake and I Really Want You are more upbeat but still with a crowd-pleasing tug of melancholy. It's a rousing show, and he's as vocally impressive as ever. But he maintains his curious detachment.

Wisemen is dedicated to other dignitaries visiting New York from Britain - "a couple of very special friends who have come here - Charles and Camilla!" He might not be joking.

When he was on ceremonial duty at Buckingham Palace, Blunt had said earlier, it never occurred to him to write a song about his experiences. He prefers to use his songs to talk about his feelings. "I'm not a particularly, overtly, outwardly emotional person," he said. "Like most blokes, you don't like talking about your feelings. That's most girlfriends' complaint about their boyfriend, isn't it? And I definitely fall into that bracket - but I can get it down in a song."

Guarding the Queen Mum's coffin was also barely inspirational. "It's an interesting experience but there's not much you're able to draw from that. It's a very nice coffin, but it won't make you feel anything."

Pause. Smirk.

"But who knows. Give me 40 years and I could be writing rousing national hymns."

- INDEPENDENT