Gob On Our Side
I wouldn’t class myself as a paid-up Paul Weller fan, but I let out a private cheer when he started rubbishing The Police. Maybe the guy was being childish for gobbing on a photo of Sting, but still, old habits die hard. It all goes back to the punk era, when poseurs were rejected and credibility was all.
And The Police certainly weren’t credible. They liked jazz music, for heaven’s sake. And they all had form as jobbing musicians with careers and dull back catalogues. Suddenly they went to the barbers, lashed out the peroxide and started singing in silly Jamaican accents (as in “Roxanne… pud out dee red liiht”). What was there to like?
And let’s not forget ‘Invisible Sun’ as one of the most risible comments on the Northern Ireland situation. The guy rhymed “armalite” with “rest of my life”, and made a suitably grainy and “sincere” video of our cultural wasteland. Cheers, pal.
Sting’s last album was a preposterous collection of Elizabethan lute music. He knows no boundaries of shame, no feature that’s beyond the realms of his preening self-regard. So the Police have been recommissioned, and those awful old songs have been exhumed.
It makes you want to spit. On your side, Weller!