By Jae-Ha Kim
Chicago Sun-Times
May 30, 1996
Jarvis Cocker is a tall, stick of a man who doesn’t look as if he could possibly possess the deep, rich, resonating voice he has. At Pulp’s sold-out concert Tuesday night at Metro, the gangly, twitching front man for the British sextet could’ve been a laughingstock if his strange antics were all he had to offer. But as with most great performers, he used his body to accentuate the positive, which in this case is the band’s superbly lyrical songs.
Slowly following his bandmates out, Cocker sauntered on stage, posed with the self-possessed confidence of a supermodel and allowed fans to drink in his angular presence. That done, the band got on to the business of playing. On record, its alienation is sometimes overshadowed by crisp production. Live, Cocker takes this stration and throttles it.
From the time Pulp kicked the show off with “I Spy” and ended 90 minutes later with “Mis-Shapes,” Cocker owned the venue. Anyone who has seen Mick Jagger strut across the stage or watched James’ Tim Booth go into his spastic, free-form dances knows that Cocker’s moves are nothing new. But what’s rather unique, and even endearing, is that Cocker sounds better when he’s acting out the songs.
Sure, he’s convincing enough playing the guitar like a dilettante, but give him the freedom to sing to his own hand (which was “talking” back to him like an animated puppet) and he’s mesmerizing.
Even a casual fan of Pulp will recognize the band’s music as sounding undeniably British. Pulp’s melodious, angst-ridden songs refer to “biscuits” (cookies), “birds” (young women), “shagging” (sex) and “wizz” (speed), and some critics say that Americans don’t want to hear that kind of talk. It’s inarguable that for every band like Oasis that bullies its way onto the U.S. pop charts, the path is littered with superb British artists (Teenage Fanclub, the La’s, Paul Weller) who failed to make a significant dent here.
But to say that Americans don’t understand all things Brit is ludicrous, especially considering that today’s teens were weaned on Doc Martens, Kate Moss and “Absolutely Fabulous.” Americans aren’t so stupid that they can’t figure out that while the accent may be different, the subject matters (sex, arrogance, revenge, frustration) on Pulp’s CD “Different Class” are universal and relevant.
Pulp’s opening act, the Drag, is the best new English band that actually isn’t British. Just as England’s Bush revamped Pearl Jam’s Seattle sound and sold it back to America, South Carolina’s the Drag is making better British music than the UK’s Ash, Cast and Blur combined.
Though the young fans were underwhelmed by the band’s riveting, wall-of-guitar sound, the Drag never gave up, and it turned in a set worthy of a seasoned headliner. Those of you who missed them should definitely check out their CD “Satellites Beaming Back at You,” which was produced by former Let’s Active front man Mitch Easter. Enough said.
