Which brings us to On Sunset, an album on which he gamely attempts to meld the competing desires to be the keeper of musical traditions and a modernist in the original sense of the phrase: if you were looking for a spiritual forebear in Weller’s catalogue, you might alight on 1980’s Sound Affects, where the influence of the era’s wilfully jarring post-punk was overlaid with his obsession with mid-60s Beatles.Īt one extreme are opener Mirror Ball and Earth Beat. His first release of 2020 was an EP of musique concrète-style instrumentals on the left-field electronic label Ghost Box. Weller sounded re-energised, the reviews were ecstatic, but the response from the rump of his fanbase – the feather cut-sporting dads who may well represent the world’s first middle-aged youth cult – was decidedly mixed.įrom 2017, A Kind Revolution and the following year’s True Meanings offered the conservative wing of his fanbase some consolation – the former dialled down the experimentation, the latter explored an acoustic strand of his writing you could trace back to the Jam’s English Rose and Liza Radley – but Weller clearly isn’t done springing surprises yet. Yet it’s notable that amid all the reflective serenity and happiness this impressively multifarious album is bathed in, it’s when Paul Weller gets angry again that On Sunset is most incisive.After years sticking fast to a well-turned but increasingly hoary brand of trad rock, he unexpectedly unleashed a succession of sprawling, chaotic, grippingly experimental albums on which avant-garde electronic instrumentals fought for space with off-kilter acid folk, spiky guitar noise, free improvisation on the piano and songs that came in five-part suites. It’s really rather beautiful, an affecting end that shows Weller wearing his 62 years well. “All our lives, the system all decides/ The institutions old but still in control,” he rages. On Sunset‘s high point, though, is the closing Rockets, a Bowie-esque acoustic ballad with strings and sax rising tastefully into the picture, and a stately Weller reminding us he maintains some punk fury as he rails against social injustice, poverty and corrupt power structures. His admirable appetite to remain current sees emerging British R&B artist Col3trane adding his hushed vocals to an upbeat electro-pop romp co-written with Jim Jupp, founder of Ghost Box Records. Just as far out of Weller’s existing wheelhouse is the future-gazing funk of Earth Beat. In Weller’s words, it’s “a bit Berlin cabaret, a bit Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band” if that’s something you can imagine, Slade’s Jim Lea contributing a sweet violin solo. The jaunty music hall of Equanimity is the most eye-opening moment. Lyrically, it’s a rare deviation from the convivial mood, Weller critiquing avaricious consumer culture before cutting loose on a wanton solo in the final moments. The silky tones of French singer Julie Gros from space-pop touring partners Le Superhomard are a pleasing counterpart to Weller’s oaky timbre on the lovely, cinematic More, the sweeping strings adding drama to an arrangement that sparkles with flute, sax and Weller and Cradock’s darting guitar runs. He sighs blithely, “Not a thing I’d change if I could/ I’m happy here in my neighbourhood.” It is ever so slightly cloying. With an ample dose of wah in the mix, Weller brims with contentment, “heaven in my sights”, recognising that utopia can be the people and places closest to home. Style Council mate Mick Talbot adds Hammond organ to the wistful Village, co-written with producer Jan ‘Stan’ Kybert. “Time will become you, you will become time,” Weller acknowledges, piano chords, horns and acoustic guitar fusing with electronic percussion and gurgling synth textures, Weller at once glancing in his rear-view mirror and striding into the future. On Old Father Tyme, the air is thick with nostalgia and fond reflection. Indie-folk trio The Staves also contribute backing vocals. The New Orleans-style stomp positively glows with analogue warmth, Weller and Steve Cradock’s rootsy playing backed up by parping horns as the singer emotes “from the mountains high to the valleys low”.Īcross On Sunset‘s 10 tracks, the palette is fuller and more colourful than on True Meanings – Games Of Thrones composer Hannah Peel’s orchestrations melding with Weller’s regular sidemen Cradock, bassist Andy Crofts, Tom Van Heel on keys and drummer and additional guitarist Steve Pilgrim. On Baptiste, a song Weller calls “a celebration of soul music’s universality” the inspiration is Bobby Bland.
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