Paul Weller Fairview Park, Dublin★★★★☆Few things in life are as reliable as Paul Weller. He’s all business under the big top in Fairview Park, in Dublin, keeping the chat to a minimum because he has songs from “two different centuries” to squeeze in. What talking he does is worth hearing.Before kick-off, a video interspersing clips of Ireland’s soccer glory with the horrors of Gaza delivers the message that “playing Israel is supporting genocide”. Uefa’s approval of staging the upcoming Nations League fixture behind closed doors at a neutral overseas venue doesn’t make it any more palatable. Pointing to the Palestinian flag on his piano, Weller later dedicates My Ever Changing Moods – “The past is knowledge, the present our mistake, and the future we always leave too late” – to the people of Palestine. “It’s a genocide. You know the score. They are not forgotten.”There is equal fire in the music. Laying out their stall early, Weller and his eight-piece band, including a magical horn section, open with the deep groove of Rip the Pages Up, originally a B-side from 2008, just to show how jewel-encrusted his songbook is. They then connect the dots by segueing from the Jam song Precious into Curtis Mayfield’s Move on Up. It’s that kind of night as the band crack on through 30-odd songs from one of the greatest catalogues in music.It doesn’t matter which Weller you prefer, they’re all here. More Jam with a brilliant Strange Town, followed by Man in the Corner Shop, from an immortal band who scored 18 hit singles in six years, some of them double A-sides. If you think they’re just for old men, then you haven’t seen the joy on the face of the young boy, hoisted on his dad’s shoulders, singing along to That’s Entertainment.If The Style Council, Weller’s 1980s vehicle, is more your bag, then he sorts that out with a jazzy Have You Ever Had It Blue and a joyous Shout to the Top. And if the solo Weller is your thing, he delivers with Broken Stones, which proves that, despite the lighting of a crafty cigarette, his voice has lost nothing over the years, the slash-and-burn chords of Come On/Let’s Go, and an arse-kicking Peacock Suit, closing the main set.It’s impossible to pick a highlight in a night made out of them, but going from The Changingman – its whooshing effects audible even down the back, so kudos to the sound desk – into The Eton Rifles, which has the faithful going into conniptions, takes some beating. And show me a better opening line than “Sup up your beer and collect your fags, there’s a row going on down near Slough”.The night finishes with A Town Called Malice. The bloke beside me wonders, given the breadth of material, if this is some sort of goodbye gig. Weller’s obvious pride and delight make you highly doubt that.