Council Style. Summer of Long Heat

 

I knew of Jam fan once. I don't know any anymore. Perhaps I will find some. New friends to replace the broken, drained husks of companionship that litter my floor and croon to me as I drift off to sleep.

This Jam fan pretended to like the Style Council. The payload of loyalty that Paul Weller had forced into his brain was like a fungus. He dressed in ever more ridiculous and pointless clothes. He preened.

And this shit dribbled like pus from the speakers. It left them damp and it made them stink.

He pretended not to notice the stench that left me fleeing his room.

Stink of corruption. 

I hate this because of who made it. Coldplay are horrible, but they are incapable of better. For Paul Weller to waste years of his best songwriting time creating and performing that utter shit is heartbreaking. Imagine if he had instead done one more good Jam album and then had a nice long holiday.

Yes that would have been better for everyone.