If you'd asked me who in 1998 would reinvent themselves from being one of the
smuggest most annoying bands around into one of the most subtle and interesting,
I would have taken many hours before I suggested Pulp, so convinced was I that
Jarvis was so far up his own backside he could see out his nostrils. But
amazingly, with "This Is Hardcore" and this worn and faded trawl through
desperation, Pulp are producing grandoise and elegant music up there with the best of them. A lament filled with bitter
experience, in which Jarvis plays the part of a failed father imparting all
the wisdom he has at his disposal (i.e. none) to his son: "You look like me - please don't turn out
like me"; "A Little Soul" is a kitchen sink drama that manages to avoid being too patronising
and instead enters the realms of the heartrending.
"Cocaine Socialism" is the much-touted musical answer to Tony Blair's
attempts to get Jarvis practically into the cabinet. Starting off downbeat
then joyously taking off, leaving New Labour in its wake, dancing away to D:ream, just like
your dad when he's pissed at New Year. Expect Tony Blair's drum n bass anthem "Pulp Are Shite"
next week...
"Like A Friend" is last, a slow lament that builds into a glam stomp
in which Jarvis' self-loathing and disgust cuts through all like the prow
of the Titanic. "You are the last drink I should never have had...You are the party that makes me feel my age" - this man makes Thom Yorke look well-adjusted.
Come to Pulp trying to forget all their past crimes and you might just
find a new favourite band.
Rating: 9/10
The Rest
Several moons ago, Moloko appeared with their kitsch and camp take on the
Portishead sound, all echoing beats, weird vocals and songs about Mr Spock's
sexual preferences. Now, after an absence in which they appear to have moved
away from being the pretend Portishead, they are back with a beat-driven paean
to obsession, but still with vocals that sound like Beth Gibbons watching The Fast Show
whilst sucking down tankfuls of helium. Not sounding so anachronistic as they
used to - mainly due to acts such as All Seeing I peddling similar fare
to the upper echelons of the charts - this is still so refreshingly off-kilter and po-face-free to make you sit up and listen.
Talking of All Seeing I, they provide the best of the remixes that make up the
rest of the tracks on offer here, making Moloko sound as though they have stuck
their fingers into an electrical socket whilst standing in a basin full of water
whilst a psychotic lunatic in a clown suit hammers on the door with a frozen
leg of mutton. Well that's how it sounded to me.
Rating: 8/10
The Rest
The band that have made a career from sounding like The Beach Boys now release an EP of cover versions which sound like Brian Wilson's band of surftastic dudes playing around with a karaoke time machine. First up is the Johnny Mathis/Denise Williams "classic" of "Too Much, Too Little, Too Late", full of dramatic chord changes, emotion-wracked lyrics and Beach Boys harmonies. Next up sees the controls set for the
heart of the 70s with disastrous heavy rock twats Rush's "classic" of "Xanadu".
Characterised by Geddy Lee's tight-trousered ball-busting vocals and lyrics
about pixies and other sub-Tolkien nonsense, Rush were a complete travesty -
exactly the sort of thing that prodded punk into action. So, if you were going to cover
a Rush song, I suggest being less reverential than Silver Sun have been here.
On to one of the best songs ever written now - "You Made Me Realise" by My Bloody
Valentine. Again, Silver Sun are a bit too close to the original here - why do cover versions if you're not going to add anything new? All it really does for
me is make me want to dig out the original again...Last is a song I don't know:
"I'm A Dick" by The Muffs. Silver Sun make it sound like the theme tune to
Scooby Doo. Not necessarily a bad thing.
Hmmmm...an EP full of b-sides. Great.
Rating: 5/10
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