Paul Weller

Paul Weller has been praised, and rightly so, for continually reinventing himself as time and tide moves on. It would be downright silly to be singing about Eton Rifles or a Bomb in Wardour Street at his time of life. And yet, as I listened to his band's expert rendition of his later material, much of which was accompanied by saxophone or even mellifluous flute, I couldn't help hanker for just one or two of the songs from my youth. I really should have at least done my homework before I turned up.
Turning up proved to be more difficult that I imagined, and having sat in a traffic queue for forty minutes, I arrived at the Thetford Forest arena just as Seb Lowe was performing his final song.

Seb Lowe

I should perhaps emphasise that the queue, though frustrating, was down to the practical issue of getting a lot of people onto a site all at once, something for which a woodland reserve isn't really suited. I saw no sign of mismanagement by the stewards who waved us in. On the contrary, both the stewards and security were unfailingly friendly, helpful and polite. I'm always a little wary of one day events. Too often, they suffer from the logistical issues associated with festivals, without the compensation of several day’s entertainment, but I need not have worried. This Part of Forestry England’s ‘Forest Live’ concert series was just right, creating a family friendly evening in a lovely setting.
Granted, I did have to weave my way through a sea of chairs before reaching a surprisingly small section reserved for standing room only. And granted nimble footwork was required to avoid the many picnic spreads laid out, but I found the sedentary punters unusually considerate towards their fellows, with none of the usual land grabs that bedevil the fringes of outdoor gigs. Hats off, as well, to Forestry England for allowing food in. It makes all the difference to families in these straightened times and meant that those that wanted to buy food, did so painlessly.
Weller's main support seemed an odd choice to me, but I was soon disabused of the notion, having been told that Weller is partial to a bit of Country-influenced Americana these days. As someone stuck in the dark ages of the Modfather era, the news took some adjusting. Far From Saints were a fine band that showcased some beautiful harmonies from Kelly Jones and Patty Lynn on Let's Turn This Back Around and Stop Dragging my Heart. Their homage to Stevie Nix and Tom Petty with Got to Find What's Killing me was heartfelt and touching. Personally, I could have done with a support band that got the party going a bit more - isn't that what they are for - but I did appreciate them sneaking in a cheeky Rosettes cover, not least as it was so incongruous.

Far From Saints

Weller began his set as he meant to go on, with relatively new material that announced he was a current performer and not a heritage act. Cosmic Fringes got things off to a fine start, followed it up with the relatively well established From the Floorboards and Where I Should Be. Only then did he placate my ever changing mood - see what I did there - with a sampling from the Style Council song book.

Thereafter, a brand new song - Take - signalled the cocktail of the old and the new he would be serving up. "We've got a long set ahead of us" he announced, as might a night watchman at the start of a shift, and so it proved. Weller completists no doubt delighted in hearing The Piper and Village, but for those of us gagging to hear a big hit, time did start to drag a little. People will always talk during gigs but I noticed how increasingly distracted people were getting. Taking selfies, sharing private jokes, having arguments are unfortunately the all part of mix these days, but mostly they occur when the audience has disconnected with the artist.

For all but those at the very front, the concert was beginning to wear thin, as the small but significant number heading for the exit testified. This wasn't because of the quality of Weller's performance, and you can hardly take against him for giving folk value for money, but I think he failed to realise this was fundamentally a festival crowd out for a fun day, rather than committed fans. It was significant to the point of funny that the crowd went nuts when the opening notes of Shout to the Top started up, a reaction matched when finally, we got Jam today, with Start! - albeit a single helping before events drew to a close. The extended encore pandered a little to those of us looking backwards and was culled largely from the nineties, although it was topped off by A Town Called Malice, a last hurrah for those of us ancient enough to remember it first time round as a surprising departure.

All in all, this was an exhaustive, and somewhat exhausting, sampling of the career of a very talented performer that unapologetically strives to remain a vibrant and relevant. I can’t argue with any of that. It's not you, Paul, it's me. B but couldn’t you have just done Going Underground or maybe Down in the Tube Station? Would it have really done any harm?