Pulp should have been enormous. Monstrous, even.
Okay, so they were huge, especially overseas, but here on our side of the Atlantic, they never seemed to achieve the heights that they so rightly deserved. But this was through no fault of their own: their songs were made for massive singalongs and dark backrooms, all verbose shimmying and cool sexuality.
Nestled sharply between the loutish lad-ery of Oasis and the art school pomp and circumstance of Blur, Pulp were the retro-futurist third corner of this (un)holy Britpop trinity. They looked fantastic, produced incredibly complex yet catchy tunes, and have been around for more than four decades. They briefly reunited for a string of highly anticipated and wildly successful shows in the early 2010s, then regrouped once again in 2022. Since then, they’ve carved out a niche in which all the classes and common people fit. And on night one of their sold out two-night stint at Toronto’s History, they proved — rather resoundingly — why they remain so important and beloved.
Escape-ism opened the show, and they were… fine. While there was nothing too unique or exciting about their sound, the duo’s fuzzed-out brand of danceable electro-rawk acted as a light appetizer for the maximalist main course that followed. They were crunchy and garagey, and if you like simple, almost primitive rock ‘n’ roll, you should give them a listen. They sound like the electro-Cramps, all rudimentary drum machines and winding basslines. Lead singer and guitarist Ian Svenonius danced and played with the crowd, and for an opening band, they had us interacting throughout; no small feat for a group most people probably hadn’t heard — or heard of — before last night. They have also potentially written the first protest song against the electric car. It’s called “Black Gold,” and it was pretty cool at the start, but unfortunately, Svenonius’s jittery schtick and that incessant drum machine grew duller by the minute, their thirty-five-minute set feeling like a derivative eternity.
Before Pulp even came on, the crowd cheered and had phones out to record their entrance as a mesmerizing, muted flame, trapped in a circular frame, danced in the background. Neon green words started flashing across the screen, to rapturous applause: “Good evening. This is a night you will remember for the rest of your life. You are about to see the 553rd concert of Pulp. An encore happens because the crowd wants more. They make themselves heard. So… make some noise.”
And we did.
“I said… MAKE SOME NOISE,” the sign demanded. So once again, we did, even more so than the first time.
“Okay. We hear you. This is what we do for an encore.”
The band then walked on stage to the sounds of a droning electronic pulse that reverberated through the venue. The crowd went ballistic, giving them a proper empress’s welcome. The pulse slowly morphed into “I Spy,” and immediately all was right with the world, Jarvis Cocker‘s haunting vocals and wiry silhouette ushering in a night that really was something to remember. Like a sexy, bespectacled praying mantis, Cocker, in a suit as sharp as his shadow, shimmied, sashayed and swayed theatrically while the band — all seven of them! — crunched and cruised and twinkled behind and around him.
For the next two hours, the band played songs from across their oeuvre, but it was the Different Class tracks that clearly got the crowd riled up. The singalongs that came with “I Spy,” “Disco 2000,” “F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.” and of course, “Common People,” were deafening, and for good reason: these are amazing songs, played with such panache and wit that they have unsurprisingly transcended their mid-’90s heyday.
While “Common People” looms large in the collective consciousness, Pulp are so much more than that, and thankfully, the other albums refused to be sidelined. Standouts “Lipgloss,” “Babies,” “Weeds,” the epic “This Is Hardcore” (which Cocker started off seated in what appeared to be a very sensible mid-century modern lounger) and “Do You Remember the First Time?” sounded slinky, funky, spacey and downright seductive. A dark sensuality permeates even their most jovial tunes, while melancholy and unapologetic nostalgia are never far behind.
Even after 40-plus years as a band and innumerable lineup changes, this performance wasn’t insincere or phoned in; instead, the members of Pulp very clearly love these songs and love playing them, and that was evident during every exceptional second. This was a show of the highest calibre, the band tight and focussed yet clearly having fun. The career spanning set was played with drive and enthusiasm, while Cocker’s between-song banter was charming, funny and humble. He quoted both Georges Bataille and Karl Lagerfeld, an apt combo that perfectly encapsulates Pulp’s aesthetic and artistic approach. It was romantic, emotional and bombastic, and Cocker is still a consummate star, all charisma and unbridled energy, dancing and jumping and emoting without missing a lyric or beat.
After two encores and just as many hours, the show ended with “Glory Days.” While Pulp have had to rely on those for the time being, the band surprisingly premiered a new song called “My Sex,” their second since offering a different new one in Chicago on September 8. “My Sex” is sultry and has a salacious, after-hours R&B vibe, which begs the question: does this mean that a —*gasp* — new album is on the horizon? While no such announcement came during the Toronto show, it was nonetheless a great song, so all you common people, let’s keep those fingers crossed.
