Paul Weller “Heliocentric”
In the 80s, people would often say that Bruce Springsteen was not a massive star outside of the US. As a kid who saw “Dancing In The Dark” ten times a day on MTV, that seemed hard to fathom. Eventually, I learned that this claim mainly meant that in America Bruce would play stadiums, while he would play arenas in most other countries. Of course it made some sense. Bruce Springsteen was a decidedly American artist singing decidedly American stories.
Paul Weller is a fair English corollary for The Boss. Weller fronted two massive English bands, The Jam and The Style Council. He scored dozens of Top 40 hits in the UK and Australia with those groups, and his solo albums, which reliably come every two to three years, are also significant commercial events. Paul Weller plays to massive crowds on his home turf. On the other hand, there are major cities in America where Paul Weller might not sell out a large room. Plenty of people know the Jam -- “they had that song in Billy Elliot, right”? Fewer know The Style Council -- “kind of complicated New Wave Soul, right?” But only the true Anglophiles in America are fluent in Weller’s solo career.
Part of this is that Paul Weller, unlike nearly every major English band before him, sings like an Englishman. His accent is in no way affected by the music. He sings as he talks. He sings about English things. Before Paul Weller, there may not have been a popular English artist to have crossed the Atlantic who sounds so English. He was a pioneer in this way and would open the mansion doors for others -- namely Blur and Oasis -- who owed an enormous stylistic debt to Paul Weller.
The other way in which the Weller / Springsteen comparison is apt is the way in which the deliberately and deeply tackle a style or sound and then move on. Bob Dylan is mercurial. Bruce Springsteen is laborious. Paul Weller is intentional. Like the others, Weller’s natural gift for songwriting is unmistakable. He formed The Jam when he was fourteen and released a mature and important record (“In The City”) when he was eighteen. If he retired in his mid-twenties he would have been a legend in England. But Paul Weller was relentless in his efforts to improve. He is always, wholly intent on improving. And when he feels like he has mastered something, he will move forward. When the fury of punk was no longer a useful musical tool, he turned hard left and formed a Neo-Soul band. When he mastered the form and the limitations began to constrain him, he tuned again into Orchestral Folk Rock. These turns were significant. And yet Weller could make them quickly and competently. The proficiency and difficulty of these shifts are hard to overstate. It is almost as though he studies to become a master electrician and excels at the trade for a few years and then decides he will go to school to become a surgeon and succeeds at that only to, then, a few years later, teach himself color theory and become a tremendous watercolorist. Everything his does is credible and full of craft. And none of it is easy.
It must also be said that Paul Weller is quite prolific. He has released twenty eight studio albums and dozens of EPs and singles (also, he has eight kids). Some albums are more famous than others, though not by much. The Jam are perhaps his most iconic band but there is not consensus among fans or critics as to which Weller album is his definitive statement. Not being especially familiar with his solo discography myself, I wanted to spend time with something objectively middle-aged, but before he got sober and achieved “Modfather” status. That filter directed me to 2000s “Heliocentric,” released when Weller was forty two, removed from the novelty of his solo turn but still a big enough star to reach number two on the UK charts.
“Heliocentric” sounds both nostalgic and timeless. It is more sophisticated and modern sounding than most anything Oasis ever released. You can hear both the influence of The Faces and the influence on Tame Impala. The record bursts with musical ideas. For Weller, the words are mostly sounds in service of the song. So it is the construction and orchestration where he shows his ambitious intentions. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about Paul Weller is that his shifts are not simply period shifts or album shifts. He actually will shift ideas multiple times in a song and pull it all together. The baseline for most of the songs on “Heliocentric” is a sort of gruffer blue-eyed Soul that he invented. But he will effortless turn out a Beatles bridge, as he does on “Frightened” and evoke Joe Cocker for a moment, only to then explore something decidedly like English Folk Rock. And, all of this within four minutes. Paul Weller is quite literally the only person I can think of that can channel The Beatles, Otis Redding and Traffic in a single song, while still sounding wholly original.
Even more astounding is the fact that much of this album is recorded live in the studio. While the credited band is relatively small, the songs are so complex and the arrangements so varied that it is hard to imagine how Weller conducted the performance. The biggest impact of this approach seems to be on the drums, which can be left out in front or sound heavy handed at times, as though trying to catch up. The counterpoint to the rhythms though, are the strings, arranged by Robert Kirby, who is deserving of great status for his work with Nick Drake. Whether it’s a sad and lonely refrain or a clever “Magical Mystery Tour” breakdown, the strings elegantly hold all of the shape-shifting together.
“Heliocentric” was unique for Weller at this time in that it had no significant hit single. The closest might be “Sweet Pea, My Sweet Pea,” which is a modest and sweet song though not among the best on the album. On the other hand, it evokes early Rod Stewart and probably would rank among Rod Stewart’s ten best songs. That’s how great Paul Weller is.
Amidst all of the musical turns, you never sense that Weller’s hands are off the steering wheel. There are many highs, few lows and a mature Soul as its anchor. The biggest experiment of the album is perhaps the back half duo of “There’s No Drinking After You’re Dead” and “With Time and Temperance.” The former is a searing, propulsive song that features buzzsaw guitars evocative of The Jam and Gang of Four and an insistent beat that would presage the Dance Punk of The Rapture of !!! (Chk Chk Chk). Amazingly, this song transitions without a moment’s stop into the latter, which eschews the electricity for acoustic guitars and orchestral strings. It’s a breathtaking ten minute stretch. Neither song, on their own, are perfect. But the breadth and mastery of both songs combined is something to behold.
Still incredibly vital and intentional, Paul Weller is the sort of artist who talks about his latest album as his greatest achievement. The next thing is always the best. It’s hard to say whether “Heliocentric” is a “great Paul Weller” record. Though lacking iconic songs, It is absolutely an excellent and enduring record. You hear the previous thirty (plus) years and the next twenty years of British Rock on this one album. But that might also truly be just another day at the office for Weller. If you ask critics, they might say that Paul Weller was continuously optimizing through 2008s “Twenty Two Dreams” and was fully optimized on 2010s “Wake Up The Nation.” Alternately, if you ask the man himself, he would no doubt tell you that “On Sunset,” his 2020 album, is clearly his best record ever. And, though everything I know about everything tells me that’s not how age and rock stardom works, the data on Paul Weller does seem to indicate otherwise.