It’s A Very Deep Sea (Confessions Of A Pop Group, 1988)
Paul and Self-examination
IF THE SUN was a symbol of positive force in Paul’s work, then water was a dark, mystical force. Three years earlier he had likened his inner confusion to drowning in the River Seine in the Style Council song Down In The Seine. Now, in order to view the mistakes of his past he was diving into oceans to find himself. Paul was aiming to dive so much that eventually the sea itself would drown, and dry land (peace) would be found. Regret is a theme that runs through much of Paul’s writing; as Anthony Storr tells us, the creative person is far happier dealing with people and problems through art than he is in real life (see Porcelain Gods). And water fascinated Paul. I recall being on holiday and him staring wistfully out at the Mediterranean, expressing his wish to write a piece that would capture its soul.
This was in the late eighties, by which time Paul’s listening tastes had turned towards the classical world. He liked a lot of Debussy’s music, also the French composer Erik Satie, whose introduction into classical music of a minimalist sensibility Paul found absolutely compelling. Jazz-wise it was the Modern Jazz Quartet (see The Peacock Suit), whose vibraphone-led music tended to be as clear and as cool as water in a stream. All this put Weller as far away from rock music as possible, and if his journeys into hitherto uncharted musical waters blew him off course at times, it also elicited from him some of his greatest songs, such as this piano-led ballad about self contemplation.
Paul writes well on piano. His melodies are rich and lush, and highly resonant. (In fact, an album of his piano songs would be a great way to expose this side of his songwriting and challenge people’s image of him.) This is a song that rises above musical genres. It has lightness in its touch and beauty in its soul.
Yet despite this beauty I have to ask, was Paul at this point hell bent on making Polydor Records’ life as hellish as possible? And if so, why? Look at the situation from their point of view. They were allegedly paying him a million pounds an album, and what does he give them? An r’n’b album inspired by obscure American indie soul music, The Cost of Loving, followed by a classically led album, Confessions Of A Pop Group, and, in 1989, A Decade Of Modernism, an Acid House album. Meanwhile, for the first album he insists on an orange cover (inspired by The Beatles’ White Album) and on the second he fights tooth and nail to have his picture on the cover removed – a battle he loses.
In the first years of The Style Council, Paul strode out with his tongue in his cheek and a pocket full of songs, shouting the odds for all the world to hear. Many people thought him mad, and he delighted in their confusion. Interviews were full of spark and humour, videos that mixed the pretentious with the colourful were encouraged, adverts full of wind-ups to both press and audience appeared, and life was an unfolding adventure. Early Style Council music reflected that fresh and invigorating approach. Five years down the line, boredom set in, gripping the whole operation with an inertia mirrored by the slow pace of many of Weller’s songs at this point. A dismissive contempt for Polydor, a growing insularity within the Weller camp and Paul’s belief in following his musical heart put paid to the bright sparks of the loafer-heeled boys.
As we know, his 1986 single Waiting was the first of his never to chart. Paul just shrugged his shoulders. What the fuck. In 1989 came A Decade Of Modernism, his take on Acid House music, which still hadn’t reached the mainstream. Polydor refused to release it. Their argument was that they were haemorrhaging money on the band and wanted music they could sell. Arguments erupted. ‘I’m not used to being talked to like that,’ Weller later said of these arguments. The writing was clear for all to see. Fuck you, Polydor said, and ripped up his contract.
The man who had been gainfully employed as a musician for twelve years, who had become a national figure and a hero to thousands, was now out of work. He went home, confused, angry, defiant. He looked after his son, and faced the nightmare of all creative people – writer’s block. It would take him two years to get out of it.
There is a counter argument to all this which simply asks, shouldn’t Polydor have realized that a man capable of writing a song as great as It’s A Very Deep Sea is a man worth persevering with? That in the long run it would be highly beneficial to allow him the leeway to explore his musical obsessions because one day he would find himself and reward them handsomely?
Paul did just that for the record companies he later signed with.