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PAUL WELLER, DAYS OF SPEED (EPIC): What a misnomer for this live album from the former leader of Britain's visionary The Jam. Days of Speed finds Paul Weller, the Godfather of Mod -- would that be the Modfather? -- mellow, even when he's malicious, like on the spicy old gem Town Called Malice. (Yes -- shock, shock -- the recalcitrant Weller performs songs from both the Jam and the later Style Council.)

It's a stripped-down affair: 44-year-old Weller, his crisp songs, husky voice and a guitar, all recorded on a tour during winter 2001. For Jam fans and Weller dwellers, the disc feels snug and intimate, but the punch of a half-robust That's Entertainment might not have the same appeal for regular folks.

Always an acolyte of American R&B -- see the jazz and funk-inflected Style Council -- Weller gets gruff vocally, sounding soulful on Amongst Butterflies and the aching You Do Something To Me. (An original, not the Cole Porter ditty.)

It's the songwriting with Weller, and the 18 tracks on Days of Speed prove the guy is one of pop's living legends. Like Elvis Costello, his contemporary back in the late 1970s Jam heyday, Weller is recalled as one of Britain's Angry Young Men. He's fierce and unafraid in his lyrics, baring his heart on one tune, lambasting Britain's classism on the next. Weller is most convincing when he captures frustration, that simmer of cynicism before a man implodes. So, it's weird that opener Brand New Start has him doing a 180. That song's narrator claims he wants to start over, get it right, be a better guy. It's steeped in hope, and maybe just a lil' chunk o' New Age cheese. The oddest part? Listen to detect if Weller is singing with tongue in cheek; be shocked when you figure out he's not. B-plus. (Psst, fellow Weller worshippers, it's an A for us.)

-- GINA VIVINETTO, Times pop music critic

ARCHER PREWITT, THREE (THRILL JOCKEY): Like Sam Prekop, his bandmate in Chicago's fine art rock collective the Sea and Cake, multi-instrumentalist Archer Prewitt makes plush, romantic solo albums, heavy on atmosphere, strings and songcraft.

Prewitt, who is in his late 30s, is a graphic designer and the comic book artist behind the culty Sof' Boy. He sings in a hush as if he's sharing secrets, the way Nick Drake and Donovan did. The elegant songs on Three, his, uh, third solo effort, are all about Prewitt's joys. They brim with hovering organs and flutes. Tunes such as When I Am With You and I'm Comin' Over capture life when it's sunny and simple.

Credit the Burt Bacharach influence for Prewitt's knack for arranging. Guest spots from Chicago luminaries include folks from Joan of Arc and the Coctails, as well as singers Kelly Hogan and Nora O' Connor. B-plus.

-- G.V.

EARSHOT, LETTING GO (WARNER BROS.): It's hard to say anything about Earshot without referring to Tool: Singer Wil Martin sounds a lot like Maynard James Keenan and, unfortunately, the track that was served to radio, Get Away, is the most Toolish track on Letting Go. Get past that, though, and you'll hear an astonishingly promising band.

Nearly every track on the disc becomes deeper and more mesmerizing with repeated listenings: The music is powerful nu-metal, almost Helmetlike in its time changes and breaks, and the songs aren't always about anguish and anger: We Fall, We Stand is even sort of upbeat, and Ordinary Girl, in every way a stellar track, deals with a recognizable human relationship. Best of all, every once in a while, amid the howling and the pounding cacophony, you hear a hint of hope. A

-- DANIEL PUCKETT, Times staff

MARIANNE FAITHFULL, KISSIN TIME (VIRGIN RECORDS): On Kissin Time, her first new album in two years, Marianne Faithfull puts her acrid tongue to good use, lashing out against old lovers (can we say Mick Jagger?) and society in general.

It's not that she is cantankerous just for fun, though some older songs, including Why d'Ya Do It?, ripe with sexual innuendo, might make even Alanis Morissette blush. No, life has not treated ol' Faithfull so well. Her sense of disillusionment and resignation is evident on this fine collection of music, thanks mostly to a star-studded lineup of collaborators. Faithfull worked with Beck, British rockers Blur and Billy Corgan, among others.

The album begins with Sex with Strangers, hearkening back to Faithfull's former days as a London swinger. Against a backdrop of mechanized techno bleeps, Faithfull's throaty voice exposes a lifetime of vices, crackling under the duress of chainsmoking, drinking and heroin addiction.

Other songs, including The Pleasure Song and the crass Sliding Through Life on Charm, are filled with sexual candor and hedonism. The Billy Corgan-penned I'm on Fire is haunted by voices and swirling, aural strings.

Minor setbacks include the drab, biographical misfire Song for Nico, and a sluggish reading of Beck's Nobody's Fault, from his underrated 1998 Mutations. A-

-- BRIAN ORLOFF, Times staff

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