The Gift

ALTHOUGH THERE is every possibility that any of a hundred lesser known bands have the potential to one day produce as good an artefact as 'The Gift, in this flabby carcass of free enterprise only a lucky few are allowed to ascend to the dizzying heights of multinational mega stardom.

The Jam are such favoured sons yet Paul Weller writes and composes because he is a natural social commentator, a talented musician and emotionally articulate, not because of an innate desire to generate vast turnovers of wealth. If he was sweating behind a factory bench he would still be scribbling down his thoughts and observations into a notebook.

Every such communicator needs an outlet for their thoughts but the outlet granted to Weller makes a painfully sharp contrast to the common truths and warm humanity that his messages convey. Millions can be reached, souls can be touched.

A song like 'Going Underground' can capture the precise mood and feel of the times to a staggering anthemic degree.BUT ... any new piece of Jam product is deigned Top Secret by Polydor and zealously guarded as scores of pompous, myth making media hacks (like me) scramble over one another for scoop hearings and get ready to Proclaim The New Masterpiece.

It is the usual rock and roll bullshit that surrounds any top selling band but I wonder how much this disturbing but seemingly unsolvable dilemma of the pop industry bites into the Weller psyche and how much is he resigned into acceptance of these contradictions?

Somehow I think it is most sweet and fitting that a copy of the item, for so long talked about in revered hushed whispers, should be literally dumped unceremoniously on my doorstep on a damp , Saturday night. Let us unwrap this 'Gift'.

“For those of you watching in black and white, this one's in technicolour,” speaks the voice.

There is a knuckle hard rap of bass, a busily fluttering hi hat and WHAAM! 'Happy Together', an uplifting, pulse-quickening burst of speeding emotional energy, drenching the listener in the sweat of its tingling, ecstatic excitement. This is a classic album opening slab of intense, stimulating verve. Real power pop, in the force of its blast the inconsequential flowers of flaccid pop revivalism wilt like dried up weeds.

Next comes 'Ghosts' which switches the adrenaline gush into a relaxed almost dewy eyed subtle insistence. A reflective plea for fuller self expression? A lighter side to the dark melancholia of a similarly introspective but stranger, evil side two track called 'Carnation'?

The only real disappointment is with 'Just Who Is The 5 O'Clock Hero', which sounds virtually like a Jam self-pastiche, one foot treading through 'Itchycoo Park' and a set of near throwaway glance-at life lyrics. Not entirely without impact but reeking suspiciously of being a mere filler.

A bit like a bottom-heavy Stax soul mix is 'Trans Global Express', a swashbuckling rhythmic jamboree, the meaty drum barrage cross cut with some furious brass blowing building into a thunderous, weighty layer beneath which the words are shouted just into the bounds of audibility. A half-heard Weller, cry imagines a unified world wide working class withdrawal of labour to “make our marvellous leaders quiver". At strategic points the whole thing melts into a rising tide of multiple repeat echo.

The forward-looking spirit displayed in this arrangement emphasises the cop out predictability of the previous cut.'Circus' is a very impressive and likeable instrumental penned by Bruce Foxton and driven by his injection of plentiful elastic bass poke. Fully fledged Moscow State stuff this, an unmistakable twinge of balalaika in the guitar riff.

'The Planner's Dream Goes Wrong' delivers a vehement and rightly caustic put down of design a towerblock but live in-the country architects and town planners who are obsessed with the intricacies of assorted structures but give zero thought to the innocent inmates condemned to reside therein. The music is impregnated with a joyful calypso up beat, creating a kind of carnival conga round the-concrete monstrosities, steel drums included courtesy of Russ Henderson.

The invigorating Motown dance beat and squeaky organ of the 'Town Called Malice' whopper hit is included although I must confess to its effect being dulled somewhat by familiarity. The forty five's flip, 'Precious', is also present.

The most poignant moment is a number called 'Running On The Spot'. Each phrase a considered, careful step, Weller delves incisively into the way his hopes and aspirations are battered down and frustrated. It is a true gem of a song with Weller displaying the rare ability to fully verbalise an insight.

'The Gift' is another brilliant Jam album. It will be Proclaimed A Masterpiece. It will be something for people in the Biz to clink cocktail glasses over. It will be bought in droves and treasured by fans.

Thousands will hear it but how many will actually listen?