The Jam were not only a seminal and slightly groovesome junction in the arching Mod family tree. Nor just a reckless reaction to and for an era. They were an investment too, for one man especially. The concept of saving for a rainy day can seem conservative, or a little bit vague at the flushest of times, especially when it rains more often than it doesn’t. But for what was a burst of zestful creativity and headstrong beliefs shaped by the impulses of youth, a factor acknowledged readily by himself as significant, Paul Weller now reaps the rewards into his middle-age. Funny how things turn out, huh?
As sure as atomic clockwork with a mains electricity supply, intricate astrological verification charts and armed night watchmen, Mr Weller throws on a snappy suit and strolls back into the ring to lap up some good old-fashioned eulogizing. Last time round, back in the mid-90s, he was heralded as Godfather of Britpop, given the Gallagher seal of approval, and showered in plaudits for his ‘Stanley Road’ album that may not have been as good as the preceding ‘Wild Wood’ but had the fortuity to show up when Chris Evans was momentarily more omnipresent than alcopops. And on cue a decade later, as his celebrated band’s influence again lives on through the likes of The Libertines/Babyshambles, The Futureheads, The Rakes et al. he strips himself back and attempts to shake off the dad-rock tag with ‘As Is Now’.
Ok, so he doesn’t try so very hard. There is still enough of the mature, mid-paced Lennon-esque piano balladry (‘Savages’, ‘Fly Little Bird’, ‘Pan’) to keep Noel under the impression that he’s part of a movement. But from the styled cover shoot forwards, the focus is very much tighter than that. The comeback single ‘From The Floorboards Up’ was a spiky, aggressive projectile and more reminiscent of his own influence on the recently reinvigorated Graham Coxon, than anything he’s put his name to for nigh on quarter of a century.
And there are peers for that peppered through this reasonably paced album. Take the opening trio of ‘Blink & You’ll Miss It’, ‘Paper Track’ and ‘Come On/Let’s Go’, which if they can’t quite keep up the pace, at least uphold a gruff determined attitude. But he’s not 18 no more, a fact lost on no-one, particularly when you’re offering them up something like ‘Bring Back The Funk (Parts 1 & 2)’, a track as extended and tortuously indulgent as its title suggests. The bulk of the album though, while not as hardened or aggressive as he’d perhaps like, do play to his strengths as a weathered songwriter with a lilting and capable musical instinct. While it’s nice to hear the blood pumping through his veins once more, that part can’t help but feel just a little like wishful thinking. Maximo Park are doing a fine job of keeping the tempo ticking over, Paul. Relax.