![]() “Some songs don’t have a meaning and some have got meanings, and those meanings weren’t apparent to me until much later.” We talk lyrics, but only a bit, because he says a lot of the words weren’t chosen for meaning as much as sound, or they’re “abstract”, made up of unconnected thoughts from the three notepads he’d filled since Sonik Kicks. And he’s the same with much of the album. He doesn’t attach much importance to this, however. “My missus was 28 when I did this album,” says Weller. After that, someone told him about Saturn’s return: the significance (or not) of the planet coming back to the place it was when you were born. He just liked the way the words sounded together, “quite T-Rex-y”, and then he discovered that Saturn really did have a pattern, a hexagon shape around its north pole. Saturn’s Pattern, Weller’s 12th solo LP (he calls it a record), isn’t named after anything in particular. Let’s crack on and talk about the new album, then. In the Jam: (from left) Bruce Foxton, Rick Buckler and Paul WellerI in 1977. “I’ve got to buy my boy some birthday presents. “We can get this done in 45 minutes, can’t we?” he says. He strides between music, family and work as quickly as possible. Weller has a reputation for being grumpy, but he’s not, he’s impatient. He’s got some energy, Weller.īut then, he always had: his peculiar, jittery nerviness fills the room whenever you meet him. Not forgetting his other five children, whose ages range from 27 to nine. ![]() Also: he’s got married to his girlfriend, Hannah, and they had the twins, John Paul and Bowie. He’s co-designed two seasons of a new men’s clothing line, Real Stars Are Rare (he’s wearing a lovely navy double-breasted suit from the collection, with a silk hanky in the pocket and brown Bottega Veneta shoes). He’s been touring all the time, as usual. He’s brought out two albums, Wake Up The Nation (2010) and Sonik Kicks (2012), plus a compilation LP, More Modern Classics, last year. Time goes faster when you’re busy, of course, and Weller has been particularly prolific in the past five years. “Look at the filthy look that kid’s giving me.” The picture is more than 30 years old. “They’re not happy about it, are they?” he says. Weller is bowling through them, all slicked-back hair and tweedy overcoat. Still with music on his mind: “Have you heard the new Blur album? It’s their best yet” “I prefer Noel’s stuff now to what he was doing with Oasis at the end” “ ‘Happy’ is one of the greatest records I’ve ever heard.” On a table, there’s an old copy of The Face, with a now-famous picture of him surrounded by young, Parka-ed Mods. ![]() For a start, Weller doesn’t appear to have aged: he’s been in his silver-fox era for a few years now, and, really, he still seems exactly like Paul Weller – smartly dressed, consciously coiffed, edgy, dandy, sharp. ![]() “Can you believe it?” he says, and I can’t, quite. I thought I’d interviewed Weller only a few months back, but it turns out that the last time we spoke was five years ago. “I do think about this stuff, but it’s best not to. “The twins are three now, so in 10 years’ time, when they’re 13, I’ll be 66, 67… Oof. I n a photographer’s studio in Harlesden, north west London, Paul Weller is doing some maths.
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