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Rating: If while traveling in the southern Albion, you arrive (taking a wrong turn, there's no other reason) in Woking and the hours spent behind the wheel, teamed with the scrotum crushed by 80 kg of unexpected, naive last-minute explorer, whisper to you "damn, stop now," well, you might visit the famou... erm the grand... the futuristic tripod by Michael Condron, then the McLaren stables, the English countryside complete with a reasonable number of sheep (according to agreements with postcard designers) and then nothing more.
If, on the other hand, you were born in Woking, you might spend happy hours in the square admiring the futuristic tripod by Michael Condron, visiting the McLaren stables from time to time, taking a walk in the English countryside, and in case of insomnia, counting sheep. And then... and then nothing more; unless your name is John William Paul and having had enough of the futuristic, the tripod, Michael Condron, the stables, and the bleating sheep that dot the English countryside and you even find them on postcards grinding your 'glaces', you decide to start a RRockBend.
We are in the mid-'70s. Malcolm McLaren takes apart and reassembles the Sex Pistols as if they were Lego, and a certain Joe Strummer has put together a very promising band. The Jam crash onto the punk scene with the same effect as a propellant in the midst of a fire. All is well if it weren't that the Woking combo loves the Kinks and the 'generation' of the Who, and I absolutely cannot imagine Townshend with long hair slicked and styled with fish glue.
Weller, on the other hand, can. And so can his Rickenbacker. And so too can a million people who take to worshiping them. Thus they spend seven years between incendiary pieces that will write history, with some seeing them as a punk band and a host of other big shots placing their sound between mod with parkas, rock with a sprinkle of pop, pop with a sprinkle of rock, rock pop with a sprinkle of pop rock, which doesn't disdain a handful of mods with or without parkas... ... ... the Jam break up. There remains still a pinch of deranged souls divided still between rock, pop, mod, punk, skank, while Weller veers towards soul-jazz-pop-sophisti-pop. "For god's sake, do you do it on purpose? Stop for a while." Not even to mention it.
Ladies and gentlemen "The Style Council"!
Or: the lad with the "baby-bottom" skin and the good giant with velvet fingers. The mind and the arm (mighty and talented); The roles come to full definition some years later, on the rugged Dorset coasts when patient Mick, flustered and equipped with a heavy bag, chases after a lanky Paul 'crazypainter', often bored, who in moments of euphoria has fun shouting "Wolf! Wolf!".
No more trace of sheep. Nor tripods. Only jazz, outdoor cafes, and bateau-mouche. Weller has thrown his combat boots into the Seine, taken Talbot, the giant, by the arm, and headed to 42 rue des I°arrondissement, straight towards the Duc des Lombards. Fully embracing the new Paul, an adopted son of the 'City of Light', impeccable in his precise, disciplined look. Except for that necklace on the black turtleneck sweater, which just can't be unseen. They are artists, what can you do.
1983. The Style Council present themselves to the world with "Introducing: The Style Council". Some admirers of the early Weller buy the album. They listen to the album. Lift the needle from the record. Make the record fly. Among the sheep in the English countryside.
Yet there is a reason in the grooves of the first work with the Talbot-tone. Loads of sophistication, whether you like it or not. And inspiration passing from those early listens of young Paul, marked by Motown. The rhythms slow down, so do the lights and the pressure. The heartbeat. Everything flows sweet and slow. The stylish "Long Hot Summer" with the distinct and sober bassline, the pastel-colored pop of "Speak Like A Child", the incredible "The Paris Match" (in the 50% version, those who know know why), the semi-acoustic ballad "Headstart For Happiness". Talbot's magic touch, the long walks along the Seine and the Eiffel Tower. The endless combinations of 88 black and white keys and the aroma spreading in cafes with a view of the Eiffel Tower. Paul's sighed singing, bistros and the Eiffel Tower. Saint-Germain and the Eiffel Tower. Montmartre and the Eiffel Tower. The Champs Elysees and the Eiffel Tower. The Eiffel Tower and the, ehmm... Eiffel Tower. Damn, how I miss the sheep.
Weller, chameleonic genius, had understood the right moment to hang the studded jacket on the wall and slip into a soft tweed jacket. Still today, away from SC, he continues to exude charm and UK-style from every pore, almost bordering on suspicions of (ultra) 'nationalist' nature.
"Introducing: The Style Council" is not a Krug Clos d’Ambonnay from 1995 but an honest, pleasant Vermouth that had the merit of paving the way for the masterpiece of the following year. After all, they invented the match before the lighter.
Greetings from Woking! (beee, bee.... beeee)
Tracklist Lyrics and Samples
01 Long Hot Summer (07:03)
I play out my role
Why I've even been out walking
They tell me that it helps
But I know when I'm beaten
All those lonely films
And all those lonely parties
But now the feeling is off-screen
An' the tears for real not acted, anymore
I'm all mixed up inside
I want to run but I can't hide
And however much we try
We can't escape the truth and the fact is
Don't matter what I do
It don't matter what I do
Don't matter what I do
Don't matter what I do
Don't matter what I do
'Cause I end up hurting you
One more covered sigh
And one more glance you know means goodbye
Can't you see that's why
We're dashing ourselves against the rocks of a lifetime
(In my mind different voices call)
What once was pleasure now's pain for us all
(In my heart only shadows fall)
I once stood proud now I feel so small
(I don't know whether to laugh or cry)
The long hot summer just passed me by
02 Headstart for Happiness (02:52)
When I find you waiting hours; oh,
You're there to save my life for our obvious goal
We've got a headstart for happiness
For our part, guess we must be blessed
For this feeling to be so strong
Tell me is that so wrong?
The space betweeen us for days has been so far;
I've spent a lonely week
Now I wanna be where you are
We've got a headstart for happiness, for our part
Guess we must be kissed by this force I feel inside
Now I'm not gonna hide.
All the roads that lead to struggles
bring you back to where you need
Some reassurance in your own depth,
only you can see, but let others feel
Peace in my mind I'm so happy to find
As I get on my trek with a headstart back to you.
You'll find it can happen
You'll find you've got the strength
You can move a mountain
You just need the confidence
In yourself and all you've got to take this world
And shake it up
Let no one say they're better than you
You must believe you've got the power
To rise above the lies
'Cause what we're dealing here with today is a love thing
Right here, right now
Now listen
When I find you waiting hours, oh
It's my heart, not my head that takes control
And you've got to lead where your heart says go
and this hope that it turns out so
And that's all that you can hope for
Can you expect much more?
Naive and wise with no sense of time
As I set my clock with a heart beat, tick tock
Violent and mild - common sense says I'm wild
With this mixed up fury, crazy beauty
It's healthy to find all these feelings inside
As I get on my trek with a headstart back to you.
03 Speak Like a Child (03:20)
Your hair hangs in golden steps
You're a bonafide in every respect
You are walking through streets that mean nothing to you
You believe you're above it and I don't really blame you
Maybe that's why you speak like a child;
The things you're saying like "I'm so free and so wild"
And I believe it when you look in my eyes;
You offer me a life, and never lies
Least only the kind to make me smile
Your clothes are clean and your mind is productive
It shops in store where only the best buy
You're cool and hard, and if I sound like a lecher
It's probably true,
But at least there's no lecture
I really like it when you speak like a child
The crazy sayings like "I'm so free and so wild"
You have to make a bargain with me now
A promise that you won't change somehow
No way, now how
Spent all day thinking about you
Spent all night coming to terms with it
Time and conditions are built to tame
Nothing lasts with age, so people say
But I will always try to feel the same
I really like it when you speak like a child
I really like it when you speak like a child
The way you hate the homely rank and the file
The way you're so proud to be oh, so free and so wild
I really like it when you speak like a child
I really like it when you speak like a child
I really like it when you speak like a child
The way you're so proud to be oh, so free and so wild
05 The Paris Match (03:50)
Empty hours
Spent combing the street
In daytime showers
They've become my beat;
As I walk from cafe to bar
I wish I knew where you are;
You sort of clouded my mind
And now I'm all out of time
Empty skies say try to forget
Better advice is to have no regrets;
As I tread the boulevard floor
Will I see you once more;
Because you've colored my mind
'Till then I'm biding my time
I'm only sad in a natural way
And I enjoy sometimes feeling this way
The gift you gave is desire
The match that started my fire
Empty nights with nothing to do
I sit and think, every thought is for you;
I get so restless and bored
So I go out once more;
I hate to feel so confined
I feel like I'm wasting my time
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