The Style Council - how she threw it all away, 1988

"As the brass bounces off the synth bass giving a lesson in how do late 80s production with elegance, the bitter Falklands winter of “But now I watch smoke leave my lips/And fill an empty room” is something Paul Weller may have considered to be a show of agency in the final hurrahs of The Jam, but with the cutting of that neurotic spectre he exorcised in a short burst of glory on The Style Council’s descent into schlock, he managed to set himself free from both the personal neuroticisms that plagued his laboured love ballads, and press in-jokes that presented him as the as the Ivan Lendl of pop/rock."