This, the second and final box-set of singles, covers The Jam's most successful and cohesive period, through their four Number One singles to their sad end. Paul Weller, Bruce Foxton and Rick Buckler's last nine singles, as with '1977-1979', come in an impressive fag box style package, featuring the original sleeve artwork and B-sides, plus a 16 page booklet. Seven of the CDs come with enhanced video tracks and it's all bloody marvellous!
The second half of The Jam story kicks off with 'Going Underground', the band's first of four Number Ones. A powerhouse of a tune, declaring, among other things, Weller's hatred of fascists, his utter lack of faith in all politicians and a feverish desire to escape it all, 'Underground' barged and blustered its way straight in at the top with a typical show of anger and passion. It shared this double A-side with the incredible 'Dreams Of Children'. Reflective yet robust psychedelic rock, all backwards guitar and voices, it was an instant classic. Limited editions of the single came with an extra live seven inch featuring 'Away From The Numbers', 'The Modern World' and 'Tube Station', all of which feature on the CD.
'Start' gave the chaps their second Number One. As Weller freely admitted at the time, they were jamming off The Beatles' 'Taxman' when they recorded this single and true enough, Foxton's bassline is a dead ringer for McCartney's strident original. A departure from the previously more aggressive Jam sound, it was backed by the beautfiul 'Liza Radley', a gentle folk-flavoured tale of the eponymous outsider "creeping across summer lawns at midnight". Again the bassline echoed a softer version of 'Taxman'.
Originally released solely as an import in Germany in February 1981, the acoustic strum of 'That's Entertainment' reached Number 21 in the UK on import sales alone. One of Weller's best-loved songs -covered by Morrissey and The Wonder Stuff among others- this glum, poignant and poetic tale of urban life was -legend has it - penned in ten drunken minutes in his flat. You can just imagine the man sitting at his window as lines like "the smash of glass and the rumble of boots"... "an electric train and a ripped up phone booth"... "watching the news and not eating your tea, a freezing cold flat and damp on the walls"... "hot summer's day and sticky black tarmac" all just wafted up from the streets below.
'Funeral Pyre' reached Number Four in June 1981, even though it was one of the weakest Jam songs in a long while. Despite its rumbling energetic bassline and the relentless drive of Buckler's drums -check out his mighty solo at the end- this slating of Thatcher's Britain, while heartfelt, lacked that certain something. Backed by a cover of The Who's 'Disguises'.
'Absolute Beginners' meanwhile, was a blinding return to form. With its title pinched from the 1958 Colin MacInnes novel -Weller had yet to read it back then- this is a punchy, brass-stabbed and driving ode to apathy and inertia. It was backed by the dreamy, pastoral pop of 'Tales From The Riverbank'. One of the few Jam tunes Weller returned to in his early solo years, it shared the lyrical theme of much of 'Wild Wood'.
'Town Called Malice', a double A-side with 'Precious', made it the third Jam Number One in February 1982. Reflecting Weller's growing disenchantment for rock and his love of R&B 'Malice' was one of his finest Jam moments. A meaty Motown style paean to the hopes and dreams of the working class it features some of the greatest lyrics he's ever penned with the like of "the whole street's belief in Sunday's roast beef, gets dashed against the Co-Op/to either cut down on beer or the kids' new gear it's a big decision in a town called malice". 'Precious' meanwhile was a funked-up brassy disco groove borrowing from Pigbag. The last truly great Jam moment saw the band performing both sides on Top Of The Pops the same week, a feat last achieved by one of Weller's favourite combo's The Beatles. Few knew at this time that the frontman had already decided to split the band.
The less said about the next two singles the better. 'Just Who Is The 5 O'Clock Hero', though a good enough album track on 'The Gift', just wasn't single material, while the soulful, string-drenched ballad 'The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had To Swallow)', which reached Number Two in September 1982, is a pleasant enough tune which perhaps nods to Weller's soon-to-come Style Council days.
And so to The Jam's glorious parting shot. Straight in at Number One, 'Beat Surrender' was a rallying cry, a celebration of what the band and their fans had achieved and what they had stood for. Bowing out at a time when frivolous bands like Wham, Spandau Ballet and Duran Duran were rising in popularity, Weller and co's earnest, honest approach and angry energy was all channelled into this final fiery flash of magnificence which resolutely refused to pull its punches. In fact, 'Beat Surrender' still drags the odd tear from the eyes of those who were there at the time. Accompanied by the jazzy, flutesome 'Shopping', and glorious feisty covers of Curtis Mayfield's 'Move On Up', The Chi-lites' 'Stoned Out Of My Mind' and Edwin Starr's 'War'.
Weller was only 24 when he split The Jam -then the biggest band in Britain- at their creative peak. Not wanting the trio's legacy to become that of rock dinosaurs like the Stones, who carry on long after their sell-by date expires, he left behind two hurt and confused band mates -the rift still lingers- legions of stunned, disappointed fans who believed the band could have gone on for at least another five years and an enviable body of work which still excites to this day. The jazzy, cappuccino-quaffing internationalism of The Style Council and an impressive back-to-his-R&B-rock-roots solo career were to ensue. But The Jam, well, they were something quite superb. They were noble, glorious and uncompromising. And thanks to Weller's decision, we continue to remember them for all the right reasons.
