This books took me completely by surprise and was so compelling I read it straight through. For anyone interested in the man behind Paul Weller the artist, this is a fascinating read. Once Weller and Hewitt were fast friends, but now - and this makes for a more revealing and better read - they have gone their separate ways. The book is tinged with sadness, yet Hewitt tells all with honesty and fairness, and how friendship with Weller is akin to living on the sea, with all its unpredictableness. The portrait he gives is that of a domineering, self-centred, neurotic, paranoid, generous, talented, hugely attractive and at times unpleasant person, the bottom line being that you either buy into his game-plan, or you don't take to the field. In looking for a framework to hang his book, Hewitt has used sixty-eight of Weller's songs whose titles preclude each piece. Some of the pieces are only a page long and read like snapshots of some greater picture, and often leave you wanting more. Throughout Hewitt sticks to his own perceptions of Weller and never looks beyond. For example he talks of Mick Talbot as a man of consummate ability and taste, yet there is nothing on his relationship with Weller. Steve White too hardly gets a mention. What does become clear is that Weller is very intolerant of anyone who does not agree with his vision, and one is left wondering how Talbot and White got on with him over the years. Needless to say Weller is often right. In one very funny snapshot Hewitt runs through some of the musicians Weller has slagged off and the way he tells it is hilarious. Weller even spits on a picture of Sting (a ***t of the highest rank to be sure!) in the Albert Hall. No matter what Hewitt says about Weller the person, however, the quality of the mans music remains undiminished, something which Hewitt goes some way to acknowledge. Few musicians have had Weller's longevity and success, and one struggles to name a musician whose music is still vital and authentic, whilst remaining steadfastly independent of the music industry (unless it's Graham Day of course).
All the subjects Hewitt has written about, The Jam, The Small Faces, Marriot, the Mod scene, Northern Soul are fascinating, yet something in his style is left wanting. There is never quite enough meat on the bones, not enough depth in his thinking, and no sooner has he started one thought when he is beginning another. In this book he brings in Anthony Storr - as clear thinking a philosopher as you could ever hope to read - to help explain the creative personality. Herbert Spencer even gets a mention, yet both these inclusions sit uneasily in the writing, which is often light and lacking penetration. Even more annoying are Hewitt's referrals, in brackets within the text, to certain songs (or is it the chapters in the book - who knows!) by Weller, so as to better understand the point he is trying to make. Some of these left me totally baffled. Yet for all this, Hewitt's book should be read, if only to get a sense of the man behind the music. You learn for example that Weller likes to write in the kitchen after midnight; that after a nasty bust up with Gill, his first serious girlfriend, his only concern was for his rare Small Faces 45's (too right mate!) that were still at their flat, and that he once gave Hewitt a years salary as a Christmas present when he was starting up as a freelance journalist. All in all then this is a good read and Weller fans will find much here to fascinate them. It is not, however, a definitive biography and does not attempt to be. To really do Weller justice you need a writer of large talent and insight, one who is able to go beyond the confines of pop music and look at Weller as part of a wider, romantic tradition that is unique to England.
