Paul Weller - 66 (Deluxe Edition) (2024)

It is fascinating to think that Paul Weller has been a solo artist for 33 years; his time in The Jam and The Style Council that preceded it scraped a mighty 11 years together. At 22, Paul Weller was Going Underground; at 33, he’d fallen off the radar for the only time in his career; at 44 he was searching for new directions; at 55 he was producing some of his most experimental music. At 66, all his experience seems to have sweetly coalesced. In fact, it must be fantastic to be Weller at this present time – to have gone through all that and still be here, adored by many, yet now given the space denied by his fans and his critics through his early and middle years to be an artist. Comparisons abound with the great singular figures of pop such as Neil Young or Van Morrison – always pushing forward, acknowledging the past on their own terms, resolutely not bowing to the great god nostalgia.

On his 17th solo studio album, 66 – complete with its Peter Blake-designed cover – Weller relishes his role as seasoned pro, the actor-manager, overseeing his repertory company (Steve Cradock, Dr Robert, Ben Gordelier, Jacko Peake et al.) with valued returners (Max Beesley, original Jam guitarist Steve Brooks), sizzling guest performers (Say She She, Richard Hawley) and fresh(er) talent such as White Label and Le Superhomard. If 66 had been made in the 90s, it could have been the work of ‘heavy friends’. Here, it resolutely is not. Everyone present – including co-writers Noel Gallagher, Bobby Gillespie, and Suggs – contribute solely to serve the material.

Although fundamentally a carve of the many sessions that sprawled out through lockdown (there is at least twice again of what made the cut), 66 is impressively coherent. Weller has called this his crooner album, but this is not an easy listening record, although it is very easy to listen to. Hannah Peel’s Abbey Road-recorded orchestral arrangements are stunning yet never overwhelming, offering a feeling of the richness of Johnny Franz’s work with Scott Walker or even Burt Bacharach on the sumptuous Rise Up Singing. Soul Wandering, Jumble Queen and Flying Fish are the nearest to ‘attack’ songs; the choruses and hooks are there throughout, and the palette of sounds is broad: a touch of Mariachi, perhaps? A salvation army band? A soulful Moog solo? Nothing seems out of bounds.

The Style Council documentary broadcast in 2020 seems to have assisted in Weller’s rejuvenation. The fun and sense of mischief that marked the group’s early years was such a breath of fresh air, and being reminded of it has sparked joy in Weller – if there is a frame of reference on 66 it’s his time as a Council operative. With its line, “All down the avenues and cobbled mews”, A Glimpse of You – co-written with Christophe Vaillant – is pure sunrise-on-Seine TSC; as is the waltz of My Best Friend’s Coat and the cheeky You’re The Best Thing guitar solo on Rise Up Singing. Away from the Council chamber, Nothing echoes Remember How We Started from his debut album. “Walking back through the silver trees, the light summer’s evening breeze across my face,” Weller sings at his most soulful.

It makes for a questioning, yet optimistic ride, in touch with nature and beauty. He is trying to find his role in life on the edge of a mighty ocean on I Woke Up; on Soul Wandering, Weller wants to believe in something greater, yet is “humbled by the majesty of the sea and the stars and your love.” He is so glad he “opened his eyes” on Rise On Singing; on the beautiful Sleepy Hollow, he thanks “the river and the road, for showing me the way home.” The notion of being ‘home’, whether physically, emotionally, or spiritually, resonates throughout the album. “I’m not tired of living,” he sings on closer Burn Out; undoubtedly with half an eye on what he might be up to on 88.

66 is an impressionistic journey through aging, time and people passing, watching young children grow and becoming a grandfather, while still checking newspapers for conspiracies. It’s grown-up, accomplished, with a sense of play, yet never complacent; it’s about not just living, but revelling in the moment. Paul Weller’s electric autumn that began with 22 Dreams effortlessly continues, and this may be the best instalment yet.