At 46, and with age starting to show, Paul Weller nonetheless still retains that awe factor.

Effortlessly cool, heads turn as he enters a trendy coffee shop on London’s cash rich Holland Park Avenue. It’s something to behold as women in their 50s and kids in their teens gaze up from their café lattes to cop a stare at the man who has written such stone cold classics as ‘Going Underground’, ‘Town Called Malice’, ‘That’s Entertainment’ and ‘Wildwood’. 26 years on Weller continues to bridge generational divides through his ever impressive back catalogue.
The same cannot be said about his clothing, though, which remains firmly rooted in the past. His sharp check slacks, stylish slip-ons and tight fitted long sleeved t-shirt represent a style dictated by his mod values, which is in stark contrast to the gothic look of his teenage daughter Lou, who has joined us for lunch. In keeping with the sartorial proclivities of her generation, she sports dark lipstick, dark clothing and coffin-shaped bag dotted with stickers of her musical heroes, the most prominent placed of which are The Libertines, a band who owe more than a little to her dad.
As we settle in our chairs, Weller hands out the menus proclaiming that “we can order what we like.” As the waitress takes our order he asks if we’re sure that’s all we want, pushing both myself and Lou to have something else. For a second I feel like his son as the mod-father plays the fatherly role.
“I was drinking red wine last night and my head was in bits this morning,” he confesses, before apologising if he’s a bit off the ball as he offers round glasses of water.
Of late Weller’s schedule has been filled with promotional duties for his new album Studio 150, a 12 track collection of cover versions ranging from a stomping rendition of Gil-Scott Heron’s ‘The Bottle’ through to Sister Sledge’s ‘Thinking Of You’ and even The Carpenters’ ‘Close To You’. All the interviews have been testing Weller’s patience though, and he seems bewildered as to why the questions remain the same. It’s as if 26 years of dealing with the press has finally caught up with him.
“It’s the same fuckin’ questions,” he says with characteristic intensity. “I mean I’m not saying it’s the journalists’ fault but it’s the same questions as 10 years ago, maybe even 20 years ago. I’m sure of it. Maybe I’ve just reached that stage, that ripe old age where I’ve been around a while and that’s the way it is. I don’t know.”
Age is something that’s been playing on his mind. It’s an issue which he readily talks about.
“I was chatting to a mate last night who’s the same age and, without being morbid, the older you get you can’t but help thinking about your own mortality, it becomes much closer to you,” he says. “I mean, when I was in my 20s I felt invincible, like I could go on forever. Inevitably you see there is an end to things, and though that’s not as inspiring as when you are in your 20s, it shakes you up a bit more to appreciate things. I’m much more comfortable with myself in my old age. I’m less soul searching. I’m more content and have accepted that certain things in life are how they are.”
It’s this acceptance of things which has allowed him to record Studio 150. He has wanted to make a covers album for some time and, whilst currently experiencing a lull in his songwriting, feels this is the best time: “I just fancied doing it, man. I mean I wanted to take a break from writing. I don’t think I’ve got writer’s block but I’m bored with writing at the moment. I really wanted to take a break away from it. I’ve been talking about doing a covers album for at least 10 years but never got around to doing it. It was just a good time for me to do it, to make a record and not have to write it. It was a joy to do.”
Weller admits that the “break” was made all the more easier because of a maturity which comes with age.
“I’m older and wiser to see that it (song-writing) will come back at some time. I’m not pullin’ my hair out or anything. If it’s meant to happen it will come back.”
It’s not the first time that he’s experienced such difficulty in writing his own material.
“It has always happened,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders as he sips from a milkshake. “I think writing goes in waves, up and down. The only difference now is I’ve got the hindsight or the maturity or whatever to see that it will come back. 12 years ago, after the Style Council finished or whenever it was in the late ’80s, I didn’t write a song for two years, or it felt like two years anyhow. Then all of a sudden I’d done my first solo album, then Wildwood and Stanley Road, and the songs just came pouring out.”
Weller’s critics may charge that he has lost it altogether, that he’ll never better the songs he wrote with The Jam, or the first two Style Council albums Café Bleu and Our Favourite Shop. It isn’t something which worries him though.
“I used to feel confined by my past but not anymore,” he says. “Going back to the acoustic tour a few years ago, when I started playing Jam and Style Council tunes, it was liberating for me in a way. It was seeing the different shades of what I’ve been and what I am. So I don’t feel confined by my past. I’ve got to the stage where I’m quite proud of my back catalogue. My passion for music has never dwindled. I’m just as buzzed and charged as 30 years ago. If I was putting out crap it would be a different story. I think I’m still relevant to my audience as well. I see the reaction from the fans and can see that this music still lights people up.”
Studio 150 houses an eclectic mix of songs. Along with the aforementioned Sisters Sledge, Carpenters and Gil-Scott Heron tracks, it also includes songs originally recorded by Rose Royce, Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Young. There are no classics from The Small Faces or The Kinks, as many may have expected.
“It wasn’t really a question of picking my favourite tunes. I wanted to make it a bit more composed than that. Something more thought about. So it was almost the same approach to recording my own tunes. After putting a few songs down I looked around to search out the right kind of tunes that the album needed. It was a different approach to picking my all time favourites. There are a few songs on the album which I’m not that familiar with, and they were sort of plucked out at random. Also, with The Small Faces or The Kinks I don’t think we could have added anything to them. It was important that we could stamp our own identity on each track.”
In terms of modern music, Weller is excited by The Coral and The Libertines, while he heralds the Super Furry Animals album Rings Around The World as particularly inspiring. He has fond memories of Irish audiences and of after show drinks in Bruxelles where he recalls a particularly long drunken night.
As we prepare to go our separate ways I ask what the 17 year-old Paul Weller would make of himself today.
“I think he’d think he’s top man,” he concludes. “I mean I might not like all of it but I’d like ‘Peacock Suit’ and I’d defiantly be having ‘Changing Man’. Live, man, I don’t care what anyone says; live I’m as good as any other fucker, if not better. Whether I’m 46 or back then, when we play live my band is shit hot. So I think the 17 year old Weller would love it.”

Paul Weller plays his Studio 150 album at the Ulster Hall, Belfast (November 29) and Olympia, Dublin (December 1)