Album Review: Various Artists - ‘Paul Weller Presents That Sweet Sweet Music’
One of rock’s great songwriters, Paul Weller is rightly celebrated for his punchy, poetic brand of punk. Yet look closer at his work with The Jam, venture beyond to his time with The Style Council, and dive into his decades-long solo career, and you’ll find another genre which has influenced practically everything he’s ever made: soul music.
As early as the punk explosion of 1976, The Jam were wearing the influence of soul on their sleeves. While the Sex Pistols and Clash claimed to be pioneers of a punk year zero, presenting themselves as a definitive line in the cultural sand, The Jam were honest about the influence of sixties music, including, yes, The Beatles, but also the Motown records which inspired the Fab Four themselves. “Years before I went out looking for soul music, it found me. That’s what soul music does – and when I was a teenager, it found me time and time again”, explains Weller. “I discovered Motown through the Beatles. You'd listen to their versions of ‘You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me’ and ‘Twist And Shout’, and their excitement for what those songs unlocked in them was utterly contagious”. It wasn’t long before Weller and his bandmates followed suit, learning soul classics such as Martha & The Vandellas ‘Heatwave’, which The Jam would later record for their 1979 album ‘Setting Sons’.
As the years went by and The Jam parted ways, soul music came even further to the fore for Weller, who would pair its essence with a playful pop sensibility as part of The Style Council, before embarking on a solo career which springs to mind whenever anyone mentions the subgenre ‘soul-rock’, such is the lasting influence of soul on Weller’s songwriting. It’s no surprise, then, that the man occasionally known as ‘The Modfather’ has now curated a 26-track celebration of soul for Ace Records. The compilation album - or mixtape, as Weller affectionately refers to it - is titled ‘That Sweet Sweet Music’, a fitting name given the sumptuous, soaring songs the album shines a light on.
Indeed, many of the cuts here are lesser known, underappreciated, or somewhat forgotten gems. It would’ve been easy for Weller to put together a more typical soul collection, featuring iconic songs from the likes of Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson, and Marvin Gaye, but while he is almost certainly a fan of those artists, the specificity of the selections give the album a distinctly personal feel. “If I cast an eye over the track listing, a slide show of memories and friends forms in my mind - both the memories of buying these songs in record shops all over the world, and the mates who often recommended them to me”, he reminisces.“Technology has progressed in unimaginable ways, but it feels weird to me that the act of putting together a simple mixtape is something you can’t do anymore. So the opportunity to put together this collection is doubly welcome.”
For even the most casual soul fans, ‘That Sweet Sweet Music’ is an enjoyably essential listen, though curiously, it begins with the groove-laden funk of ‘God Made Me Funky’, by Herbie Hancock-produced The Headhunters. A crisp, kinetic drumbeat is swiftly followed by some infectious Wah-guitar, which is in turn complimented by a gloriously grounding bassline, before Paul Jackon’s smooth, increasingly searing vocals take the song to a gospel-infused chorus, featuring backing vocals from none other than the Pointer Sisters. It’s a slick, visceral start to the album, and one which is immediately contrasted with the next song ‘Spanish Twist’, a breezy instrumental version of the Isley Brothers’ ‘Twist and Shout’, highlighting the memorably twangy work of guitarist Joe Richardson, and acting as a nice segway between ‘...Funky’ and the rest of the record. Nashville quartet The Valentines keep the energy high with third track ‘Breakaway’, a harmonised, horn-heavy call to “breakaway from the burden we’re under”, advice which feels just as relevant today as it must’ve at the start of the 70s. Collins & Collins’ impassioned duet ‘Top of the Stairs’ follows, before the big band flurry of The Spinners’ ‘Don’t Let The Green Grass Fool You’ provides an early highlight, Phillip Wynne’s gorgeous vocal intersecting wonderfully with a bouncy walking bassline and schmaltzy brass section.
Things get decidedly more understated with Sly Johnson’s ‘Black Balloons’, a gentle, string-backed expression of black pride, while Peggy Scott and Jo Jo Benson’s ‘Soul Shake’ is a high-octane vocal workout, sitar-like lead guitar adding to the song’s fantastically frantic feel, and illustrating Weller’s knack for album sequencing, keeping the listening experience interesting via consistent sonic juxtaposition. He’s at it again with Richie Havens’ ‘I Can’t Make It Anymore’, a bittersweet ballad boasting a chorus which is simultaneously upbeat and melancholic, making for a unique and compelling listen. The next two tracks – The Exits’ ‘You Got To Have Money’, and The Jones’ ‘Pull My String (Turn Me On)’ - settle nicely into a seamless flow, before the nervy drum fills and powerhouse vocals of The Dells’ ‘Run For Cover’ provide a welcome shift in gear. Weller wastes no time in slowing things down again, following it up with O.C. Smith’s sun-soaked charmer ‘On Easy Street’, with the sophisticated acceptance of The Radiants’ ‘Ain’t No Big Thing’ rounding out the first half of the record in style.
Next comes the album’s second major high point, in the form of Billy Stewart’s exhilaratingly expressive take on the Gershwin standard ‘Summertime’, all audacious ad libs and sizzling scats, with future Earth, Wind & Fire frontman Maurice White matching Stewart's boundless energy behind the drum kit. It’s a brilliant moment which burns bright in the memory, even as Brother To Brother’s ‘In The Bottle’ - a catchy, laid-back caution against alcohol abuse – leads us to Baby Huey's much-sampled ‘Hard Times’, a moody, pulsating track driven by the grainy vocals of James ‘Baby Huey’ Ramey, who sadly died of a heart attack prior to the release of his one and only album.
Former Drifters singer Johnny Williams sets an even more atmospheric tone with his heartfelt breakup song ‘Maggie’, his yearning vocals the perfect vessel for the song’s pleading lyrics. Meanwhile, if Joe Simon’s ‘When’ is primarily memorable for its prominent horn arrangement, then James Carr’s ‘Pouring Water on a Drowning Man’ is all about Carr’s extraordinary vocal performance, his gritty husk of a voice taking an otherwise serviceable song to truly sensational heights.
“I don’t want to wait until June/ Before I hear that wedding tune”, sings Roscoe Robinson on his lovably bubble-gum single ‘That’s Enough’, which benefits greatly from its charismatic backing vocalists, as they help tell the tale of a man who simply can’t wait to get married, subverting the trope of the impatient bride as early as 1966. On the other end of the spectrum is the semi-mythical Blackrock, their sole studio recording ‘Blackrock “Yeah Yeah"’a largely instrumental, transcendental funk-rock freakout, boasting an opening groove so deep that words are simply not required.
Just as we’re getting lost in a swirl of psychedelia, Weller brings us right back down to earth with the cool summer breeze of American Gypsy’s stripped back, sentimental ‘Golden Ring’, before Jon Lucien urges us to ‘Search For The Inner Self’ over bright brass and sweeping strings. The Mist’s ‘Life Walked Out’ nudges us towards the final straight with a calming confidence, before Betty Davis provides the album’s third and final high point with the closing track from her self-titled debut album, 1973’s ‘In The Meantime’. A masterclass in subtle swagger, the song showcases the smoky, magnetic manner of both her voice and persona, resulting in a sensual, hypnotic saunter through longing, loneliness, and acceptance (though alternative solutions are winkingly implied).
As the song’s crackling slow burn reaches its yearning, crashing conclusion, it feels as though ‘That Sweet Sweet Music’ has also reached its natural endpoint. However, Weller has one last treat in store: the autumnal glow of Darrel Banks’ ‘Beutiful Feeling’, a tender, uplifting end to an album which serves as a reminder that, in a chaotic and increasingly deranged world, the smooth sounds of yesteryear really are medicine for the soul.
Words by Ben Left
