The shortest and sweetest of holidays was spent last week immersed in Barcelona brilliance, and a ticket to the Pitchfork drenched Primavera Sound festival in tow. With a lineup that was choc a bloc with of the freshest hipster delights, ultra bona fide veterans, and pretty much everything in between, it was always going to be difficult to prioritise acts to see, especially when on arrival, you realise pretty much everything is a logistical farce. Much of the blame lay on a ‘charge card’ system for payment, which immediately crashed, and in terms of festival essentials like entry, buying a pint, empty stages, and navigating your way around the industrial estate, Punchestown-esque site, it was all initially disastrous. So atmospherically, it was a bit of a slow burner. The revellers antagonism quickly wilted though, with some guitars creaking into action somewhere in the distance, Big Boi’s bass growing like an approaching brontosaurus, and the increasing availability of cold hard San Miguel, paid for with cold hard cash. Classic Festival Format 1, European Festival Charge Card System 0.
Amid the gaiety of realising you were in an unbelievable city, surrounded by the most solid of crews and Summer was officially in full swing(holidays, basically), it was difficult to remember there were acts to be seen. That was the hard part. However, the one priority ever since I first checked out the line up, stood out like the sorest of thumbs. Pulp. In the flesh. The full classic lineup for the first time since 1998. And their first comeback gig. This was DEFINITELY all that mattered. As soon as it dawned on me, everything else paled into insignificance, and all would become secondary as long as I saw Jarvis exude all his glamour, stomp and effortless bravado in the flesh. All this of course, if they still ‘had it’, and hadn’t developed into the character he cautioned about in ‘Help the aged’… And of course, there’s the whole debate about reunion tours, and whether it works, or if it is just a cash cow. Well, it all depends on how you pull it off… Just ask Damon Albarn. Or Gary Barlow.
In Pulp’s case, there never really should have been any doubt about whether this would have been a success or not. When ‘Different Class’ launched them into pop superstars in 1995, they had already spent 15 years delicately fine tuning their craft to become the most polished, witty, layered and enthralling band of the britpop era, and had infinitely more depth, substance and longevity to their musical output. Dense, lush and intricate arrangement made for produced tracks Phil Spector could only dream about, driven by an outrageously muscly rhythm section, and keyboard and guitar hooks that you could hang the proverbial coat on. And that was just the platform. Jarvis Cocker was the finest frontman of his generation, with a jokey swagger to convey his razor sharp witticisms about our everyday, normal lives. He was a voice for the people. Except it was eloquent and utterly true. And absolutely hilarious. Their template was bulletproof. Mis Shapes was the first Cassette single I ever bought as a ten year old in 1995. Rushing home to play it incessantly, I loved every bit of it, even though I clearly didn’t get how amazingly sharp the social commentary was. The music was just clearly such good, pure and unadulterated pop. I didn’t really get the lyrical gist of its b-side, a live version of ‘Sorted For E’s and Whizz’ at the time either. Thats obviously a good thing, yet it sounded just as great all the same…
Obviously, as my own maturity grew, so too did my appreciation and fondness of how deeply brilliant all things Pulp and Jarvis were, and they continually enshrined themselves in the ‘favourite bands ever’ category. Some achievement, I’m sure they’d acknowledge. The older I got, I realised no one did pop quite like Pulp, and no one did real life commentary quite like Jarvis. Yet despite this, as I waited for them to take the stage, I still didn’t grasp the enormity of the occasion. Maybe something to do with the few lagers on board. But when they teased into the intro of ‘Do you remember the first time’, and the curtain drew back and the lights came up for the rollicking chorus, they made sure that you certainly did remember the first time, and it was just as good, if not better than before. What an apt opener, and back with all the same verve as before, just as if nothing had changed. The music belted out with fresh and breathless vigour, yet maintained its famed tautness. Jarvis was every inch the innate, effortless frontman he always was. Cavorting like a gymnast reborn, and gyrating as if his life depended on it, he sent the packed crowd into raptures of delight over and over again. The energy from all parties volted wildly around the festival. Not bad for a bunch of self styled fogies in their late forties. Indeed, the whole theme was definitely one of rejuvenation, and the setlist showcased that. Steering clear of the later, more lurid and atmospheric stuff, it was jampacked with all the hits from His ‘n’ Hers and Different Class. If you preferred the earlier stuff(and singalongs), your ‘lucky numbers’ had come in. You kept on getting that same realisation… These are real anthems, for real people. And thank god they’ve come back to provide them once again. The only problem was, it was all over a bit too soon. Says it all really. Bizarre to think it was a case of apparently blowing the cobwebs off, for you thought that much lauded Glastonbury set in 95 must have been pretty mediocre in comparison to this…
Back with a bang, to say the least. And it looks like this is going to another reunion that will be a rip roaring success. And may I make a toast to that, because sometimes you think that Pulp were just so darn good people didn’t appreciate it. Oasis made the anthems for yobbos and churned out the same dross albums for years, and coloured people’s visions of what made the nineties and Britpop good. Pulp were the real geniuses behind it all, who brought a craft, slickness, guile and a dose of unrivalled wit to the fore. So good, people probably didn’t even realise what they had when they were originally around. Now it seems, we have a second bite of the cherry, and thankfully they are just as remarkable an act as they were then, if not on this evidence, better.
Here’s a clip of some choice cuts from Primavera, I just wish I was a bit more to the centre now…:
