Encouraged by the modest national profile attained recently by Pulp, The Dylans and The Suncharms, Sheffield's Leadmill is promoting a series of 'showcase' gigs, in a dual attempt to fill the traditionally fallow Sunday evening slot, and act as a catalyst for what some believe to be a nascent Sheffield 'scene'.

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Beneath large silver balls dangling from the rafters like a Vision On planetarium, PULP arrive to a packed house of seasoned Cocker watchers. Looking like a poodle in a stunning fake fur jacket, Jarvis performs an implausibly cool behind-the-head Stylophone solo, and it's immediately obvious that Pulp's recent surge of activity has produced startling results. No longer just a quirky band with 'potential', tonight was the moment when the years of promise were consummated.

Russell Senior's electric violin is laced with more drama and irony than a camping holiday with Nigel Kennedy and Mark E Smith. As Jarvis croons in the sublime encore, pipe-cleaner legs flicking out like an anorexic Tom Jones, "Woke up this morning. I was still alive". There's a hell of a lot of people who are very glad about that.