Why Paul Weller is a Badass: A Beginner's Guide

A list of reasons I find "the Modfather" irresistibly cool:

• He was 18 when the Jam started. This voice is coming from an 18-year-old kid.

•  Bands like The Clash and The Sex Pistols "didn't want [The Jam] in their club." What's more punk than a punk band that isn't allowed in the "punk club?" Just that alone is...like a punk within a punk. As my friend would say "punkception."

 

• He rocks like a rocker, but looks like a total mod. You can't pin him down.

• Because he's the changing man.

 
• He redid a Beatles song with a Beatle. The Smokin' Mojo Filters even got Noel Gallagher in on the act when he was young and fresh.

• He's got soul.

• He supports Epiphone (Just like yours truly).

• He writes songs about a shit, urban-crawl lifestyle and they sound fucking gorgeous.

• He's helped and had help from Noel Gallagher, Graham Coxon, and Miles Kane. 

• After The Jam, he began Style Council. It's such a change of tone it's not even funny. But it's so very good.

• He refuses to stop and he doesn't back down.

• This was one of the greatest moments in music history as far as I'm concerned and what's he doing? He's not singing. He's not playing the guitar. He's playing the drums. In the background. Making history. In the background.

So good job, Paul Weller. You've been fantastic since you were born.

I dress myself for the part. I smile but it just don't work. Something about my face--it must just be the wrong shape. I'd better try another brand pretty quick.

Song of the Moment - Bauhaus / Kick in the Eye

Actually, it's "Kick in the Eye 2" I guess. I wonder whatever happened to "Kick in the Eye 1..."

Anyway, this song is one of the top examples I have of the idea of "punk to funk." Second to The Clash's "The Magnificent Seven," obviously (note to self to make that a song of the moment one of these times).

"Kick in the Eye" is such a funky sexy tune with the thrashing, guttural lyrics about Satori that only Peter Murphy could successfully deliver. You want to dance and you want to growl. Is there anything more perfect than a song that makes you want to fashion a goth fro? I don't think there is.

If you don't want to take your clothes off to this one, then I feel sorry for you.

I'm only putting in one video this time because this is a live video but it's on one of those shows that forces play to studio recordings (or it was dubbed that way by the guy who uploaded the video.).


I am the end of reproduction; given no direction. Every care is taken in my rejection.

The Night I Met Joy Division

Like any good story, this one begins on a cold night sometime in late December. I can't remember if it was snowing or not, but, for dramatic effect, we will say that it was.

My mother was living with me again and we were getting ready to move across the country because she'd just been divorced and she didn't want to live in the house her ex-husband had owned with her. She didn't want to be alone, either. So there I was--the only other person in the world she felt any kind of human emotion towards--packing up all my shit to move somewhere neither of us had ever been before. Sounds exciting until you take in the insanity of the situation.

The longest music relationship I've ever had has been with The Beatles. But I don't mean that as most people mean it, which is to say that the first music they ever heard was "Love Me Do" and they own a logo sweater. Everyone has that story, it seems. I mean that I've been in a committed relationship with those four Liverpudlians (mostly Paul) for my entire life. I own everything they've ever done on CD, LP, Cassette, digital... I have that obsession down to a science. I am a walking Beatles encyclopaedia. But I digress. The point of mentioning my relationship with 'the fab four' was to say that my second longest musical relationship has been with Oasis. More specifically, with Noel Gallagher. I'm not even ashamed of the music crush I have on that blue-eyed Mancunian. Regardless of (or maybe even in part to) his constant use of Em7 and constant talk of his soul. He has never bored me in the near decade I've known him.

That being said, sometimes, when you're in an emotional rut and you realise that you're nearly 25 years old and are still going after that seemingly impossible dream of a degree in GodKnowsWhat with nothing to show for it besides a few pieces of paper and a general confusion--and just when you thought you had something good going, the whole game changes and you have to pack up and move away--listening to "Talk Tonight" and "Don't Look Back in Anger" just doesn't cut it. So, Sally can wait. She knows it's too late as I'm walking on by. Her soul slides away. 'But don't look back in anger,' I heard you say. Yeah, it's lovely and it all rhymes but it was rather like a drug. It masked all the symptoms of my depression, but, once the music was gone, the depression came back.

I decided to branch out from Oasis and find something that felt more appropriate. Because sitting in silence (not the Oasis song, the literal action of sitting in silence) is heartbreaking. Noel introduced me to Paul Weller and The Jam was an even better drug for me because punk music is an outlet for everything you can fathom. But, at the end of the day, you're still an angry punk.

 For Christmas, I want these three in my garage. It would be the most epic jam session ever. 

I would forget everything I ever knew about music, though.

Often, while I listen to music, I will draw. I am a portrait artist. A real professional as I actually get paid for it (not well, but that's beside the point). I decided one night to draw Paul Weller. I went online to find a good photograph of him for reference and stumbled upon some blog post someone had done about their "celebrity crushes." Paul was there, Noel was there, and Damon Albarn was there too. As I agree with all three of those handsome talented men, I kept scrolling and I was stopped when I saw this picture:

Those are the saddest pale eyes I have ever seen in my life. Underneath the picture, it said his name was Ian Curtis, so I took this info and ran with it because I had to find out what those sad eyes were singing about. When I learned he was the lead singer of Joy Division, I was surprised because I'd learned about that band in an amazing course I took as a college elective called "The History of Rock and Roll." I knew three things about Joy Division: 1. "Love Will Tear Us Apart;" 2. The singer had epilepsy or danced like he did (I couldn't remember); and 3. Suicide. That's all I remembered. I did not remember seeing him like in that photograph. I remembered a video clip of him dancing and, well, the way he danced will stick with a person if that's all you'd seen of him.

It's beautiful.

So I went to my favourite website for learning about new music: Youtube (new music with a video bonus is how I view it) and chose the safety net of listening to the only song I knew from them--and the song most people know from them--"Love Will Tear Us Apart." The moment I heard what his baritone voice was actually saying, I started crying and I didn't stop for weeks. Three days later, I purchased a box set and have since hunted down live recordings; records; demos; and the joy of Warsaw. I even watched the 2007 film Control and bought Peter Hook's book Unknown Pleasures: Inside Joy Division.

Whereas Noel Gallagher had been singing about beautiful nothingness with a pinch of sadness (Slide Away, for example); Ian Curtis was saying all the ridiculously emotional and pitiful things I was thinking at the time. Mother I've tried, please believe me. I'm doing the best that I can. I'm ashamed of the things I've been put through. I'm ashamed of the person I am. (from the song "Isolation") Excessive flashpoints beyond all reach. Solitary demands for all I'd like to keep. Let's take a ride out: see what we can find. A valueless collection of hopes and past desires. (from "24 hours") and, the kicker of them all: Existence, well, what does it matter? I exist on the best terms I can. The past is now part of my future; the present is well out of hand. (from "Heart and Soul").

I could go on for days with the darkest lyrics perhaps ever written in such an honest way; but it's not just the lyrics. The song "Atmosphere" could be done completely instrumental and it would still break me down from the inside and force me to look at myself and face what I am. And, well, "Ceremony" was too much to handle even before I knew it was the last song. Now that I know that about it, I can barely listen to it. (And I refuse to listen to New Order do it. I'm not ready to accept them yet.)

Never before has any music affected me so deeply as the music of Joy Division. What I've said about it so far may very well be an advert against it, but, add to all of the forceful grounding and darkness that it is absolutely beautiful music. So much so that I can barely come up with a better description than to just leave it at that: "beautiful." Sure, it appears to be the darkest part of humanity put to symphony, but that in itself is glorious because it is the bareness and vulnerability of an entire species. The worst of fear and pain is still gorgeous as it is just as strong in the recipe for human as the happiest, loveliest moments are. No one had ever put that thought to music so strongly and so literally. It reads as the truth behind what Jim Morrison hid in metaphor.

Sure, there's a chance that I'm saying all of this and sounding ridiculous, but music is powerful. Joy Division is.

It actually changed my life. I have always rolled my eyes at people when they say some form of music changed their life. I'm sure many of you are rolling your eyes at me now. But I'd like to apologise for such disgust because apparently these things really do happen. And not just to 15-year-olds with black hair dye and eyeliner, either. It's actually okay to have feelings like this, you guys. Really, it is. It's the anonymous equivalent of someone telling you it'll all be okay, this music. Interpretation is everything.

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance to the radio.

Why I Love Vinyl Records

-It reminds me of what it was like to fall in love with music for the first time. I can still remember how awesome it felt to be a 4-year-old getting to stay up late with my dad listening to old records while he taught me music history and broke down what music was all about.

-It's the way the music I love was meant to be listened to. Not for any other reason than because it was the best technology for music of the time. So everything was set up to work on vinyl. It sounds fine on CD or digital, but being that I am too young to have lived most of the music I so adore, vinyl records are the closest I get to a time machine.

-Once you play one for long enough or get an old enough copy, it gets all kinds of pops and crackles. Sure, there's such a thing as too much and that's no good, but I love the ambient, unique noise records get as they distort. It's always different and it's all a part of the experience.

-They look fucking fantastic. I can imagine being a disc jockey 30 years ago was a pain, because they're so heavy, but they're lovely. You can actually see the artwork put in to the record covers rather than just having them on a little CD case.

But, I'm not going to say they're perfect. Here are some things that suck about vinyl:

-They are finicky and fragile.

-They can not be played in a car.

-If you're in another room, in the middle of something, and the side is finished, you are musicless until you turn it over. Can someone tell me what the protocol was back when records were the only way to have music at a party? Would whoever was closest to the stereo when the album was over be at liberty to change it to whatever they want? I come from the time of 3 CD changers with repeat function. Oh or iPods I suppose.

And she gave away the secrets of her past and said "I've lost control again."

Song of the Moment - The Cure / M

I used to listen to The Cure a lot in a greatest-hits kind of arena when I was younger. Only recently have I delved in to their amazing 13 album discography. It's kept my attention through and through thus far and the evolution shown between 1979's Three Imaginary Boys and 2008's 4:13 Dream is incredible! Though you can tell that the voice is of the same poet--as Robert Smith's voice remains perfect and recognisably his own. He should be very proud.--the music and the way it is presented and delivered shows that these men in this group have evolved and changed (some members really have changed as they're not always the same).

The song "M" from their 1980 second album Seventeen Seconds has one of my favourite hooks. If the lyrics and the way they are delivered isn't enough to make me pay attention, then the attention-grabbing award goes to Robert's incredible guitar riff. It become even more clever still as this riff is omitted for a few minutes of the song, only to come back in the end. It keeps the listener anticipating it's return every time. I've had this one on repeat for days. 

Like I said, I don't know much about The Cure yet musically and much less personally. But I do know that Robert Smith has been with the same woman since he was 14 years old and that the woman's name is Mary. I think that such a fact is relevant here (I think she's relevant to most of their music, really).

So here it is, give it a listen if you feel comfortable. I'm a fan of proper concert footage, but if you're not then the second video is the album version.
 

Hello image, sing me a line from your favourite song. Twist and turn, but you're trapped in the light: All the directions were wrong. You'll fall in love with somebody else tonight...

Joy Division / Peel Sessions

It was a beautiful day the day this came in for me. I can't speak highly enough about the Peel Sessions. In general, bands that performed on John Peel's BBC1 show back during this late-70s/early-80s era created something that really pushes their original recordings and I love that. But I won't get in to how amazing The Cure did "A Forest" or The Jam did "Saturday's Kids" for the Peel Sessions right now, this is about Joy Division and the 1990 Strange Fruit vinyl that came to my mailbox a few days ago.

Joy Division had a rare quality to them in that their live performances were sometimes better than the studio versions of the same songs. This is in part due to Martin Hannett, their experimental producer. He's the man who helped fill in the eeriness. It's because of him that "I Remember Nothing" makes me jump every time I listen to it in the car because I think the windscreen is being broken. He's the man with the effects. However, sometimes, I wonder why things were done the way they were done. Unknown Pleasures is one of the most amazing debut albums ever conceived, but there we have "She's Lost Control" with Bernard Sumner's guitar muted behind the sound of the bass and the keyboard. I know beyond any doubt that the version of "She's Lost Control" from the Unknown Pleasures is not the best version of that song. The Peel Sessions version is perhaps only second to the live version they did for "Something Else" (which has video accompaniment). The only reason I'd rate it second would be because of the way the frustration builds in to a scream during the "Something Else" version before he goes in to a dance. However, in either version, when the barre chords kick in after the first verse, it makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It's imperative that that song is not left simply heard through the studio version.

He was clever and clean, but hardly knew what he was doing. Fantastic.

Believe it or not, however, there are seven more songs on the album besides "She's Lost Control." Including the famous "Love Will Tear Us Apart." The Peel Sessions version is much easier to listen to as it seems more epic and uplifting musically whereas the studio version is downright haunting. Which, to be fair, is the better way to be with a song like that. In all, the Peel Session versions emphasise the instruments the band was playing rather than placing all of the emphasis on the reverb of Ian's voice. Thus, the high treble of that forward voice track is cut down and there's more aggression put to the performance. It's especially noticeable in "Sound of Music" and "Insight." Studio recordings of his voice are like you are being haunted by a spirit, but live in live recordings, you can almost see the man himself--the human, not the spirit--singing these songs. He was an emotional performer. And I've gained that knowledge from four good quality videos; three live concert recordings; and about an hour of concert footage that is of such poor quality I can't believe I'm still enthralled by the blurry figures performing.

 This is the quality that must be dealt with. I'm just happy live footage even exists at all.

Another thing this album has taught me, as I compare it to the six or seven versions I have of the same thing, is that they can play the song "Transmission" any way they want to and I will love it each and every time. I do believe this one has the best "and we can daaance..." he ever did. Even comparing to the early version featured on the bootleg Warsaw album (I'll get in to that another time), this song is unstoppable. "Transmission" and "Shadowplay" (Not featured on the Peel Sessions, sadly), are equally fantastic no matter which way they are played.

This collection is a total must for anyone who likes Joy Division enough to own anything from them. In fact, if you're just curious about the band and don't know where to start, I would suggest to start here. Here's a fun tip for anyone who has actually read my thoughts here and takes me seriously in the least: If you purchase the special edition of The Best of Joy Division--which is the import version if you live in the US--that comes with two discs, the second disc is a copy of The Complete BBC Sessions (to buy this on it's own is three times the price as it is out of print). It includes not only the Peel Sessions, but the two other BBC live recordings (That is, you get two versions of "She's Lost Control" and "Transmission." Each one totally worth it.), as well as a little three minute interview at the end for an extra bonus. It's a rare ordeal to hear Ian Curtis speak so that's a decent selling point. So, not only do you get the best of studio versions, but you get the BBC versions, too. It's such a worthy 'best-of' compilation that even I bought it. And this was after I'd already purchased the box set!

The best-of compilation has this iconic shot on the cover of it. Pretty enough to be framed.

This is how Kevin Cummins earns his keep.

But as for the Peel Sessions vinyl I recently purchased, the track list is as follows:

A1-Exercise One
A2-Insight
A3-She's Lost Control
A4-Transmission
B1-Love Will Tear Us Apart
B2-24 Hours
B3-Colony
B4-Sound of Music

I'm not going to get too picky, however, if I was in charge of picking songs for them to perform, I would have replaced "Colony" with "Means to an End." How amazing would that have sounded in that setting? Incredibly amazing.

I'm not afraid anymore. I keep my eyes on the door, but I remember...

What is a Post-Punk Princess?

Take your seats, class. I'm about to break this down for you.

I suppose this equation can be broken down in to two separate questions, the first and most important being:

What is post-punk?

Post-punk is a fantastic little sub-category of music that's endearingly persnickity as it is so abstract. This dark, gorgeous acid-trip of sexuality and emotion put to music is nestled comfortably in between the aggression and drive of 3-chord punk and the gloomy electronics of new wave. In short, post-punk is where all of the tragedy of the world went to compose a symphony; and, for the most part, this took place in the late 1970s and went through the 1980s. Some of the main channels for this type of music were bands like Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, The Cure, Bauhaus, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Psychedelic Furs, and The Smiths. Basically, the brightest of eyes and the blackest of souls.

Top to bottom: Joy Division, The Cure, Bauhaus

The second question you may ask is probably not for the definition of a princess but, more likely:

What gives you such a royal title over something you had nothing to do with?

Nothing does. But how clever does that sound? Post-punk princess. It's fucking brilliant. This question, however, will burn brighter in your mind the further I go in to my taste in music because it does not begin and end with post-punk music at all. My musical journey begins with English rock'n'roll of the 1960s; takes a detour through Detroit for the Motown era; grooves on down south for some jazz and gets introduced to swing; plummets down to the darkest parts of hell to jam to some shock rock; surfaces in Britpop (and stays there for quite a while); and then goes on a music bender that starts on a highway with American modern country, exits and finds a town called Malice, and ends up in goth rock. And I'm still travelling, so that twisted map will only get better. This story will go from punk to funk and anywhere else that interests me as time moves on.

 

Oh, there's a third question you might have after reading that:

Why the emphasis on post-punk then?

I've been a music fan for my entire life (not as common of a trait as I originally thought. Turns out most people just like a certain band or song and leave the rest of music behind after that), and have branched off in to every genre I could think of for as long as I could stand it. In 25 years, I have never been so affected by music as I was the day I discovered Joy Division. Tragically, the music catalogue of this band is incredibly limited. But the addiction had been set in place and I had to find more music that reminded me of the saddest, yet most beautiful sounds I had ever heard. Stick around and I'll tell you the entire story of that glorious day. But, for now, I'll summarise by saying that post-punk music gave me a feeling that shot me down to a point lower than the proverbial 'bottom,' but refused to kill me. When you wake up from that, you feel rather invincible. That's why it means so much to me.

Undead, undead, undead...