Reviews: Paul Weller - "A Kind Revolution" (Parlophone)

Only Paul Weller could create an album like A Kind Revolution - so stylistically rich and diverse, yet still be able to pull it off. Though, if you think about it, there shouldn't be much surprise at all — style is what the man they call "The Modfather" does best, ever since his days as frontman for The Jam, and later as co-founder of The Style Council. 

Right out of the gate, A Kind Revolution rips through the speakers with the hard-rocking “Woo Se Mama” — a warning against conformity, complacency, and greed. Over a howling guitar riff and a whirling Hammond organ, Weller cautions that he can’t be fooled by those that acquiesce to falling in line, doing only what their told, and suddenly falling in love with the things they once hated. Almost like a taunt, Weller snickers over the infectious groove, declaring “once that flame don’t burn so bright, it’s slow death by candlelight,” and — in case it’s not obvious — Weller is having none of that. The album’s first single, “Nova,” depicts Weller in a futuristic daydream, where his mind is racing, and his soul is being tugged at repeatedly by the impulse of obligation; there’s still so much to do, the artist urges. To whom Weller feels obliged, it is not clear. But one thing is clear: the fantasy of “Nova” — of building a new planet, and beaming communications through the cosmos — could almost be identical to many an escapist’s views on the chaos that is taking place here, right on Earth.

A Kind Revolution is not a socially heady album in its entirety. Weller breaks away momentarily from the complexity of humanity with an ode to his wife, on the Latin American-flavored “New York.” Throughout the track, Weller recollects a chance meeting, and how it leads to a life of eternal gratefulness. Noting that in life, sometimes there isn't even a moment to think, Weller relishes the moment to thank the most important person in his. Elsewhere, love strikes again, this time in the solid grooves of “She Moves with the Fayre.” Weller’s endless surprise at the object of his desire — the delirium of just knowing there is so much left to discover of her — slips and slides, until it lands flat in a fat disco break, connected by two passages of funk that couldn’t be contained if you tried. The fanfare carries on, all while Weller delivers the vocal with barely more than a whisper. 

Despite these soulful detours, A Kind Revolution starts where it began; far from a political record (there’s no traces of Billy Bragg here), the album may still prove to be nuanced by the social situation of many of its listeners. The album’s title refers to a lyric from “The Cranes are Back,” a gospel song at heart that aims to declare the desire of hope. As the United Kingdom navigates the complexities of Brexit, and America struggles to reconcile itself with the realities of its latest leader, Weller instead reminds us of the joy that freedom can bring — though, only if we could “pick ourselves up off the floor, try to heal the land once more…. There would be some hope in the world.” Weller’s plea isn’t particularly in vain. He knows the power is in the people — all mod-rock space odysseys, aside.

A version of this review was featured in The Aquarian Weekly.

Reviews: HAIM - Something to Tell You

California's sister act returns with a bold sophomore release that picks up where they left of on their previous album, while throwing in a few new twists and turns to dazzle the listener.

HAIM were an unexpected delight in 2013 with their debut album, Days Are Gone. That album was an unabashed love letter to rock music of the late 70s and early 80s, with HAIM being able to up the ante by incorporating vocal effects, synthesizers, and electronic drums into the mix—staples of the music they enjoyed as millennials growing up in Los Angeles’ San Fernando Valley. When Days Are Gone was released, the buzz on HAIM was that the band was a cross between 80s-era Fleetwood Mac and 90s-era R&B. Think Tango in the Night meets En Vogue. The result was a forty-five minute morsel of achingly sweet power pop that could simultaneously appeal to fans of rock music as well as Top 40 pop. As quirky as it all seemed, HAIM had tapped into something unique. Now—four years later—on their sophomore release, Something to Tell You, HAIM continue to work their magic, crafting songs that walk the delicate tight rope between the retro and the modern, songs which are much more dynamic and atmospheric than those that appeared on Days Are Gone.

As she did on HAIM’s debut, guitarist and lead vocalist Danielle Haim lyrically dissects the ins and outs of romance with little ambiguity. Often times, Something to Tell You reflects upon personal relationships in a way that can become thematically redundant. But, at its finest moments, the album is uplifting and uncompromising. The album begins with “Want You Back,” a song about admitting mistakes and longing for forgiveness. Danielle delivers a raw, empowered vocal performance, while intermittently trading harmonies with keyboardist and vocalist Alana Haim. Elsewhere, the thumping “Kept Me Crying" is a dead ringer for any of the best work of The Eagles. It’s slickly produced guitar solos sound like Joe Walsh is right there in the studio with HAIM, going off on a tear. The groovy shrug off of “You Never Knew”—a kiss goodbye to a lover who’s taken too much for granted—is where HAIM showcase their uncanny ability to take the aesthetic of 70s rock, and accent it with the stylization of contemporary R&B. The beauty of a song like “You Never Knew” is that it could be mistaken for a lost Janet Jackson track—or a deep cut on a Michael McDonald-era Doobie Brothers album.

While Days Are Gone was dense, compact, and at times seemed to move at breakneck speed, Something to Tell You lingers a bit, like a shadow in the night, wrapping itself inside the listener’s subconscious until something starts to click. Perhaps that’s more contemplation than a pop record would normally require. But on the other hand, maybe that’s what pop music needs. The takeaway from Something to Tell You seems clear: rock and roll can be a blast, especially if you can make a record that would have Don Henley dancing like nobody’s watching.

A version of this review was featured in The Aquarian Weekly.