The case of Ed Sheeran and his ‘Sheerios’

What a sensation Ed Sheeran is. Somehow the funny-looking redheaded lad from the other side of the world has stolen one million of our hearts, making him the highest-selling ticket artist in Australasia.

That doesn’t even count the rest of the Sheerios who missed out on getting a ticket and heartbreakingly poured out their souls through lipstick-smeared poems on bathroom mirrors (Twitter these days).

Now, I know Ed’s Sheerios are passionate about him, so forgive me when I say that I don’t quite get your Sheeran buzz.

That’s not to say I don’t appreciate him. Bravo to a guy who can whip up songs more romantic than a Jack and Rose pash. But, is it enough to make us all go gaga over him?

I’ve typed ‘‘Ed Sheeran’’ into YouTube and clicked the first ‘‘mix’’ that came up.

As far as I’m aware it’s my first time listening to Ed Sheeran intentionally and somehow, remarkably, I know most of his songs. OK, maybe not quite so remarkably.

On a return trip to Ohakune from Wellington I must have listened to that duet he sings with Beyonce about 20 times on various radio stations.

The worst part is you, probable Sheerio, know exactly the song I’m talking about.

What about that Irish Jig song? The photograph song? The Lord of the Rings song? The pervy song? The old people love song that every bride uses as the theme to her wedding. (It was cute four years ago). We all know Sheeran’s songs, fans or not. Somehow, he’s captured us.

I’ve contemplated whether it’s his maturity in his songwriting that defies age, but then I think of that Shape of You song (creepy).

Are we as shallow as his looks? Perhaps it’s his smooth voice and dorky grin? That’s pushing it.

Maybe we’re all just craving a good tune with lyrics that have some depth and meaning.

Maybe we’re just after a bit of a croon that is more hip than Michael Buble and more sincere than Justin Bieber.

Whatever it is, one million tickets is about the population of the South Island. I can imagine people from Christchurch going to see Sheeran, but probably not Bluff.

Whatever his secret is, I take my hat off to Sheeran – but I’m not pulling out my wallet.

Are we as shallow as his looks? Perhaps it’s his smooth voice and dorky grin?