Pulp concert review: Jarvis Cocker was on typically energetic form… but where"s the new material?


Jarvis Cocker was on typically energetic form… but where's the new material

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UPDATED:

23:40 GMT, 1 April 2012

Pulp, Royal Albert Hall

What next for Pulp Last year the Britpop stalwarts reformed for a strong of rapturously received festival dates during which they romped through a greatest hits medley.

Then they went quiet for six months.

Until Saturday night, when they kickstarted their unique blend of power pop chords and Jarvis Cocker’s observational wordplay again for a Teenage Cancer Trust fundraiser at London’s Royal Albert Hall.

Do you remember the first time Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker performs at the Teenage Cancer Trust gig at the Royal Albert Hall

Do you remember the first time Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker performs at the Teenage Cancer Trust gig at the Royal Albert Hall

Entering to the strains of Do You Remember The First Time, Cocker was on typically energetic form.

Throughout the near two hour work out, he bumped and ground as only he can – at one point he was clapping his legs together while lying on his back.

Like last summer, the set was drawn from Pulp’s final four albums and kept the sell out crowd richly entertained with the only lull coming during a couple of lesser known songs taken from under-rated final work, We Love Life.

Cocker’s voice continues to improve despite his middle age – he’s 50 next year – and was particularly powerful on a wonderfully fraught This Is Hardcore.

Common People closed the main set, prompting scenes of delirium, and, after a week of open class warfare over petrol and pasties at Westminster – its painfully sharp lyrics exposing posh boys trying to act cool have never seemed more relevant.

Which set me thinking.

How an increasingly irrelevant British rock scene could do with some fresh Pulp material.

With Arctic Monkeys in a state of introspection and few others asking pertinent questions, Mr Cocker needs to take up his pen again or risk sounding a touch stale the next time he flings himself on to a stage.
It’s been too long.