Since the Jam found fame in 1977, Paul Weller has been everything from so-called "spokesman for a generation" to acid-house evangelist to Modfather of Britpop, with changing haircuts to match. Today, the 55-year-old is sporting a silver, slightly longer version of his punk-era mod cut. Piling into each song with barely a pause for breath, he looks so mean, edgy and hard that you suspect were he not on a stage, he would be doing something to attract the attentions of the police.
It's an interesting period for Weller. After revitalising his career with 22 Dreams, Wake Up the Nation and Sonik Kicks – a trilogy containing the most adventurous music of his career – he is presumably waiting for his restless creative antennae to tell him where he's headed next. In the meantime, he promises "lots of old songs I hope you can relate to" as an epic, 26-song set thumbs through his back pages. Porcelain Gods becomes a psychedelic odyssey. Above the Clouds, from his first solo album, is supernaturally soulful. The Style Council's My Ever Changing Moods is sped-up and euphoric. There's even a burst of the Who's Magic Bus, Weller's youthful inspiration transformed into a blistering, two-drummer onslaught.
Weller has a cold, so he apologises for the odd croak and wipes his hooter on a stylish-looking sweater. When he asks for help, the audience take up Sea Spray's beat with clapping hands, triggering a communal experience. The bright stage lighting has the unusual effect of illuminating the audience, revealing the dancing on the balconies.
Those moods keep alternating like a sonic emotional kaleidoscope. He's the Keeper is a lovely, touching tribute to the late Ronnie Lane. Picking Up Sticks adds a drum solo and a hug and a cheer for "Roger the roadie". 2010's 7&3 Is the Striker's Name marks the return of his political fire. His Jam days provide Start! and a rallying-cry climax of Town Called Malice. Even 32 years on, Weller's lyrics about struggling families having to make "big decisions" in order to feed themselves have never been as relevant.
"We've got another three hours to do yet," he yells, as the clock approaches the two-hour mark. He's joking, but nobody here would ever want him to stop.
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