Fast-forward to June, and I was positively a-twitter in anticipation of 22 Dreams hitting the US market. "Best album of his solo career," I'd read somewhere in the British press. "Finest Weller album in forever," I'd peeped elsewhere. Yep, I was intrigued to say the least, albeit guardedly so, having occasionally fallen prey in the past to the prone-to-hyperbole prose served up by the likes of the NME.

And here we are, with the domestic issue of 22 Dreams - at last! - prominently displayed in the new releases racks of any decent self-respecting record shop, and I am more than willing to throw yet another log on the roaring fire of adoration for Paul Weller's latest. So, it's that good, you ask? Yes. Emphatically so. I can't think of the last time he sounded so energized, so thrillingly reckless, so willing and eager to have a go at whatever seems to strike his fancy at the moment.

In this sense, the album shares the same spirit with the finest moments of the Jam and the Style Council, moments such as the former's "Beat Surrender" and "English Rose" and the latter's "Walls Come Tumbling Down," in which Weller appeared open to choosing any and every avenue for expression. Over the course of 21 songs, everything from moody folk to interplanetary jazz to lusty soul makes an appearance, frequently drifting together with fanciful transitions - thus creating the impression of a prolonged dream-state, as the title would suggest.

As strong as the songwriting is here, much of 22 Dreams' mettle draws from the careful sequencing given to these remarkably disparate tracks: listen closely, and you're likely to hear a piano chord or a spell of guitar feedback in one song sliding itself into the intro of the next. Hence, the chamber-string outro on the anguished folk anthem "Why Walk When You Can Run" ushers in the soulful marimba-and-percussion-click, which announces the arrival of the thumping organ-whirr-bedazzled floorburner "Push It Along," and the one-two shot feels like the most natural thing in the world.

And while we're on the subject of pushing along, I should also give a shout to the serious momentum the song gathers by the end, having worked its way through a jittery, guitar-squalling stomp groove and into a rousing a capella (well, with tambourine) finale. Almost without a break, the number gives way to the one-minute psychedelic rave-up entitled "A Dream Reprise," a horn-squealing, looped-feedback instrumental pelvis-workout. It's a frenzied revisit/reinterpretation of the title track, a nervy piece of Carnaby Street funk showcasing deliriously mod party guitar wah-wah from Weller acolyte Barrie Cadogan (of Little Barrie fame.) Such is the nature of 22 Dreams - elements bleed into each other from song to song, themes recur, echoes continue onward and outward.

While it is quite illuminating to listen to 22 Dreams' far-reaching, hour-plus sprawl as an entire whole - as well as being a good stubborn rally cry for the double-album conceit in an era of iPod random-shuffle ubiquity - taken as isolated songs, the disc's individual components work just as effectively.

Opener "Light Nights" is one of the most entrancing Weller tunes to date, its vehement 12-string guitar strokes pairing up with quasi-Eastern violin and cello to fashion an oxblood-dark strain of folk-blues, recalling a little Pentangle or maybe even Paul Giovanni's score to the 1973 film The Wicker Man. Weller is joined by Hannah Andrews, whose enflamed harmonies here are reminiscent of those of Fairport Convention's Sandy Denny on the Led Zeppelin classic "The Battle of Evermore" - and while I'm not saying he sounds too much like Robert Plant, he does appear to be summoning similar spirits in the process. "Have You Made Up Your Mind" continues the rock/soul hybridizing so firmly associated with the Jam, its garage swagger, lush faux-strings, and sweet-as-punch falsetto cries joining forces to create one of the most memorable Motown tributes since his former band's 1982 impeccably crafted single "The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had to Swallow)."

And speaking of Motown: "Empty Ring," a bell-twinkling slice of orchestral-soul in which strings, woodwinds, and pianos curlicue around an authoritative rolling beat and Weller's marvelously rich husky baritone, pays glorious homage to Marvin Gaye's 1971 masterpiece What's Going On. Weller's excursions into folk-soul territory are also impressive, especially the Terry Callier-evoking "Cold Moments" - thanks to its graceful piano runs and sunshine-glow organ accompaniment. For those who haven't listened to Weller in a while, you're in for a treat: his voice has taken on an extraordinary depth in recent years, and comparisons to Callier (and Gaye) are not exactly out of line.

"Black River" - including Graham Coxon on drums - is a slightly inebriated English music hall number, topped off with the occasionally bawdy piano-bar rinky-dink twinkling of the ivories. Reminds me a bit of the early days of David Bowie, when he was doing the Anthony Newley thing - and, perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, I think I'm picking up a little of Coxon's former band Blur (themselves indebted to Weller) along the way. Fluff, I suppose, but fun fluff nonetheless.

For more serious endeavors, consult the free-floating orbits of "Song For Alice," a shape-shifting instrumental dedicated to the late great Alice Coltrane. Amid the piano scale runs, sneaky tempo changes, and weepy trumpet sighs (courtesy of the always-wonderful Robert Wyatt), I can almost hear traces of her 1970 stunner Journey in Satchidananda (Impulse) - sure there's no oud or bells, but I can feel the presence nonetheless.

Having saved the best for last, I must now gush about "One Bright Star," a haunting tango which, to get right down to it, is probably the most romantic piece of music I have heard all year. Combining delicate Spanish guitar, drifting horns, and sobbing ripples of mandolin (sounding curiously like balalaikas) in a string-laden orchestration sent heavenward by Hannah Andrews' wordless flutters, Weller has convincingly composed a genuine weeper set to accompany the rolling credits of an imaginary Pedro Almodovar film. "Without you, I feel nothing / My one / bright star / shine for me," he beseeches over the irresistible 1-2-3, 1-2-3 tango rhythm. Honestly, who'd say no?

Start planning ahead: Paul Weller will play the Fillmore, 1805 Geary, SF, on Thursday, Sept. 4, at 8 p.m. Tickets are $45 and will be totally worth it.

Here's the video for 22 Dreams' "Echoes Round the Sun," co-written with Oasis' Noel Gallagher. Delicious strings: