THE JAM "Live Jam" (Polydor)

THE TROUBLE with live albums is that after they've been bunged through the patented Acme Studio Wart Remover, most of them sound so polished they could have been produced by Mr. Sheen.

Whether or not Weller and Co. had anything to do with the end product I don't know but the cunningly titled Live Jam certainly captures the spirit of a band who, more than any other, succeeded in taking classic Britpop and giving it a shot of raw punk adrenaline.

With bum notes and rough edges firmly intact, this value-for-money 24 track compilation is a fascinating document of a group growing up in public, spanning as it does the period between 1979 and 1982 which saw the trio evolving from the yob roar of 'This Is The Modern World' to the superslick white funk of 'Precious' - a song that did much to pave the way for the eventual rock/dance crossover.

The highlights are numerous but top of the list has to be a particularly venomous 'Down In The Tube Station At Midnight', Weller assuming the role of zoot-suited choirmaster as the London Rainbow bellows its collective way through a tune that's every bit as hard-hitting as the mindless right-wing thuggery it describes.

Whereas the Clash and Sex Pistols were often guilty of adopting causes as fashion accessories - the Sandinista LP being a prime example - The Jam's politics were born out of a personal sense of frustration that rarely strayed beyond their own Home Counties backyard. Well-aimed potshots at the British class system like 'Eton Rifles', 'Smithers-Jones' and 'Little Boy Soldier' were reasonably adept at hitting their targets on vinyl but live, fuelled by a fiercely partisan crowd, you can almost hear the veins standing out on their necks as they tear into their victims with the ferocity of a seriously miffed Rotweiller.

Not that The Jam were perpetually angst-ridden - 'When You're Young' revels in the optimism of youth, 'Boy About Town' is a defiant Mod anthem to rival anything written by The Who and though perhaps a tad too abrasive for purists, the cover of Curtis Mayfield's 'Move On Up' is no less celebratory than the original.

'Strange Town', 'David Watts', 'Funeral Pyre' and 'Town Called Malice' complete the generous serving of hits but where Live Jam really earns its stripes is in finding room to accommodate such lesser known gems as 'Billy Hunt' and 'A Bomb In Wardour Street' which still ranks, in my books, as one of the New Wave era's finest three minutes.

Turn down the lights, crank up the stereo, guzzle a crate or two of Special Brew and - fuck me - what are those three blokes doing behind the sofa?

• Stuart Clark