Pulp
Sheffield Marples
AT ONE time the word pulp was used to denote a type of cheap American fiction magazine, the term derived from the fact that the magazines were printed on low-grade recycled pulp paper. Nowadays the word Pulp denotes a wilfully eccentric five-piece pop group whose music generates a kind of fairground/carnival feel.
The members of Pulp are all good Yorkshire lads. Jarvis Cocker is the main man, tall and skinny (what the Yanks call 'rangy') with a poise reminiscent of Olive Oyl. The muscles of his brawny arms stand out like knots on cotton, as my dear old dad used to say. His credentials as a singer and guitarist are pretty much unimpeachable. I've just spent the best part of an hour watching him lead Pulp through their paces, an initially enjoyable but ultimately unfulfilling experience.
The songs were all brisk and sprightly, with lots of loopy melodies reminiscent of XTC, only not as irritating. I'm not going to play the old comparisons game cos that would be taking the easy way out. It's crass and lazy, a shortcut to original thought. Besides which, Pulp are tricky, hard to pin down.
Decent numbers included 'What Do You Say', allegedly the highlight of Des Moines' new 'Your Secret's Safe With Us' compilation, and the slow-burning 'How Could You'. Very nice stuff indeed. The unfortunate thing is that when I go to a concert, I often find my attention beginning to wander about two-thirds of the way through, and so it was with Pulp. They have a certain charm, it's true. But charm is a hard quality to pin down, and after a while I began to think of other things. (I couldn't help wondering, for instance, why the skinhead in front off me kept shouting, "Where's my emu?"). This may have been purely my fault, or it may have been due to some latent deficiency in Pulp's music. Either way, I never managed to regain my initial enthusiasm.
The Sheffield fanzine Pink Flag recently referred to Pulp as "Unpredictable, whacky, possible brilliant outsiders." I'm more inclined to think of them as the musical equivalent of a Milky Way bar, a band you can safely listen to without fear of ruining your appetite for something more substantial when the times comes.
PETE SCOTT
