It is, remarkably, rapidly closing in on 50 years since Pulp started out. Perhaps more remarkably, they only seem to get better. From the moment Jarvis Cocker emerges at the top of a stage full of lightboxes at the 3Arena, a silhouette perched amongst a crowd of mannequins, he’s a domineering figure. The band, accompanied by a small orchestral string section that adds a soulful depth, perform, Cocker in particular, with a punchy, almost punk-light feel.
Tonight’s show is divided into two parts, and two particular elements immediately stand out: superb lighting, and that frontman, who is on absolutely flying form. The lighting set up is simple but effective: the band perch at various levels on a massive series of light-up steps. The steps change colour and accentuate various members of the band, while a huge screen at the back adds detail, such as the supermarket scene for ‘Common People’, or a Sheffield nightclub element that fits Cocker’s loose set-narrative during set one.
As for Cocker, it’s well known the man is a born performer, but something about this show feels more enticing, even, than his norm. He’s at the heart of everything, drawing out that gentle narrative around the setlist as he struts around those steps, contorting his hands and body with scarecrow dexterity. On the one hand, he walks the stage with the ease of a man walking in front of his own TV. On the other, his casual nerd-chic aligns brilliantly with his turn of phrase. To say he’s the stand out member of Pulp is one massive understatement.
And the set, like Pulp’s lyrics, ties heavily to Cocker’s life experience. Three tracks in, ‘Slow Jam’, an unusually mellow and soulful new number, takes us into Sheffield nightclub ‘Limit’, with the rest of the first set tied loosely to the idea of meeting someone on a night out and building a life with them. Its accentuated, as is much of the set, by a chunky string section, with up to 20 musicians on stage at any one time.
The order is a little loose: the massive rave-anthem laser show of ‘Sorted for Es and Wizz’ gives way to the pop for lost souls of ‘Disco 2000’ with an accompanying narrative about love and life, and ‘Help The Aged’ – a recently re-addition to the setlist – is served up with a request by Cocker to help his aged voice get through the high-pitched edges of the track, which the audience duly do.
It’s worth noting that while the above tracks, all well known Pulp staples, absolutely fly by, the new material more than matches up. ‘Farmers Market’, for example, has all the hallmarks of Cocker’s lyrical quirkiness, opening with “That was a good year, the one when we still believed despite all evidence pointing to the contrary”. Eventually, in our twisted mash between a big night out and a relationship life span, we land on ‘This Is Hardcore’, suitably backed by a red light and Cocker sat on a lounge chair clutching a paper coffee cup. Opening set closer, the mellow ‘Sunrise’ feels euphoric and gently appropriate.
Set two, which comes after a short break during which the crowd vote, vocally, to hear ‘Dishes’ over ‘59 Lyndhurst Grove’, has the feeling of something a little more explorative, with the beautiful ‘Something Changes’ delivered acoustically at stage front as the second opener. ‘The Fear’ is an oddity, with a set of waving ghosts taking to the front row and photo negative footage against the backdrop, while Cocker adds to the surreal affect by launching chocolates from his pockets into the front rows.
We’re told the story of how Pulp’s first gig in Dublin, way back in 1993, saw half their gear nicked and the promoter joking they’d probably lose the other half, too, before the closing stages of the show descend into what can only be described as one of the world’s best sweaty indie discos. Euphoric sing-along ‘Babies’ and ode to weirdness ‘Mis-Shapes’ both feel tightly close to the album versions, before the sizeable supporting cast leave the stage, leaving just the main band members to lead an epic sing-along to ‘Common People’ in front of a supermarket aisle that fires past in the background.
Cocker says he’s learnt what it takes to be happy over the years – that it’s not money, but love. After all, “what’s the point of being rich, if you don’t know what to do with it.” But Pulp are a lesson unto themselves: vibrant, consistently thought provoking, and lyrically exceptional. They’ve spent years perfecting their art. They have the massive anthems, the cultural statements, and the personal odes. And they put on a live show that – take it from someone who’s seen them five or six times over the last two decades – feels like it’s reached something of a summit.
Pulp are a national treasure in the UK, because they represent wonderful weirdness and lyrical experimentalism while somehow managing to remain incredibly accessible and even standing up for their social class in the process. Live, there are elements of pure artistry that are simply stunning. It would take a cold heart not to love them.
