I Don’t Like Them As Much As I’m Supposed To: Paul Weller

I Don't Like Them As Much As I'm Supposed To

weller I Dont Like Them As Much As Im Supposed To: Paul Weller In a recent conversation about embarrassing records owned in the past, I included my LPs by The Jam. Thinking about it later, I’m not sure why… I mean, The Jam were a great band! “Billy Hunt” is a cracking slice of punkpop and every man and his dog loves “A Town Called Malice” don’t they? So I started wondering why I’d chosen The Jam as my shameful past. Then it hit me. Paul Weller.
Paul Weller, to many Ben Sherman shirt-wearers, is regarded as The Modfather. Now, to me, there are many, many more people who deserve such a title. Steve Marriott. Pete Townshend. Hell, there are a hundred soul singers who deserve it more than that lot put together. Weller emerged from the dreadful Style Council to become a popular singer-songwriter in his own right (after a faltering first solo LP) which has seen him tackle folk, indie, r ‘n’ b… but that doesn’t a genius make (a genius wouldn’t hang around with Ocean Colour Scene for a start).

Paul Weller often seems prickly to the point of irritating. He also strikes me as a man who likes the smell of his own farts. Believing your own hype leaves you wide open to criticism. If you strut around peacock-style, you’ll get detractors… and I’m sure that Weller has had a few over the years (I seem to recall him offering out a Select writer some years ago after a less than favourable review). But instead of adopting a bunker mentality, Weller has turned into Liam Gallagher’s dad. Swaggering here, posturing there… I AM! Yeah… a twerp, mate.
Y’see, Weller has walked the walk long enough to feel imperial. However, this cocky attitude isn’t backed up by great records. “Brushed”, for example, was one of the worst releases I’ve ever heard. “Peacock Suit” was rubbish as well. “Changing Man” sounded too much like an ELO overture for my liking (look it up). This has left a sour taste in my mouth. Weller, clearly the possessor of a sublime growl and supremely gifted at writing great songs, has become lazy and laurel-resty. In turn, it’s left me unable to listen to The Jam and Wildwood… because all I can think of is an old man checking himself out in the mirror in his new suit.