There's No Emotion

Another miserable Freaks song, this one dedicated to pinpointing the exact moment that a particular relationship dies. Truth is, the melody to this one is actually quite lovely, and it sounds like at least a little time went into the arrangement. The failure of this song is all due to Jarvis’ mid-‘80s vocal deficiencies. His mannered croon cannot even begin to locate the delicate tenor of the song. Vocally, he’s totally upstaged by none other than Candida Doyle, who provides one of her rare, whispered harmony lines on the chorus, and she’s the one, more than any other player, grounding the song with a recognizable, relatable sentiment.

By the way, as you may notice on the upper right side, you can now sign up to this blog’s network on Facebook. If you’re willing and able, I highly encourage you to do so!

Like a Friend

One of the nice things about a blog – unlike a book or a thesis – is that it’s okay to change your mind and willingly contradict yourself. So, did I say “Disco 2000” was Pulp’s best chance for a U.S. hit? Eh, maybe I spoke too soon. “Like a Friend” is also pretty damn catchy, featuring one of the band’s most rousing performances. Plus, the song was attached to the 1998 film of Great Expectations – starring Ethan Hawke, Gwyneth Paltrow and Robert DeNiro – which I recall getting a lot of publicity at the time, although I’m not sure how well it’s remembered now. The band made a video interspersed with clips from the film, but perhaps that doesn’t really matter in the long run.

The real strength of “Like a Friend” is its mix of catchy melodies – in the song’s languorous and anthemic sections – with Jarvis’ pithy metaphors on a timeless theme: the codependency of friendship. Although the song doesn’t really have a chorus, it builds to a real fist-pumping kind of coda, and Jarvis’ lyrics are witty and concise, covering a universal topic that probably doesn’t get as much play in modern pop music as it should.

In addition to appearing on a soundtrack and a b-side, “Like a Friend” also showed up as the last track on the U.S. version of This Is Hardcore, where I think it actually fits very well as a kind of encore track. Still, we’re going with the British track listings for this blog, so I’m not tagging it as a TIH track.

Everybody's Problem

This 1983 single came to pass after the band’s then-manager suggested Jarvis try writing something Wham-esque. The result makes you wonder if Jarvis had actually ever heard Wham. Aside from a vaguely faux-Motown rhythm, this is still a fairly weedy example of early-‘80s British indie, lacking the big, brash hooks that George Michael and Andrew Ridgely so reliably provided. And I’m pretty sure there aren’t any Wham songs with prominent trombone parts. The lyrics sketch out a breakdown in interpersonal communication with some measure of wit but no conciseness, no catchy pay-off line. Jarvis would eventually master such things, but not for some time.

Like this single’s infinitely superior b-side, “There Was,” “Everybody’s Problem” turned up on the 2000 soundtrack to Schooldisco, whatever that is.

So, you’re probably wondering what happened to this blog. It just went on hiatus, really. My official excuse involves a combination of work, the World Series (yay these guys!) and the U.S. Presidential Election (yay this guy!). But I think I also just needed a break. For the time being, I hope to post at least once a week. Hopefully in the new year, I’ll get back up to two or three times a week, and finish the blog out in style!

Goodnight

More foreboding tidings from the ‘80s; as was their custom at this time, Pulp create a convincing sense of menace on this track. Celestial organ and dulcimer give rise to a steadily increasing intensity. Jarvis’ spoken verses convey the moment just before sleep, but something is not quite right. The sung chorus is less effective, thanks to his usual pitch problems of this era. Fortunately, in the song’s last few minutes, his voice fades in the mix, giving focus to the band’s vehemence.

Watching Nicky

Like “You’re Not Blind,” this demo appears to be another embryonic version of “Babies.” Nick Banks wrote the central guitar riff that these songs share, which explains the title at least superficially. Jarvis claimed the song concerned an ex-girlfriend, although certain details – giving up an artistic career to raise a child – resemble the biography of Jarvis’ own mother. So “Watching Nicky” also incorporates the scenario of “Little Girl (With Blue Eyes).” The song is certainly catchy – that guitar is quite alluring, after all – but it’s not quite the sum of its parts, and certainly lacks the unique kick of “Babies.” All in all, good thing they went back to the drawing board with this one.

Disco 2000

If any Pulp single was ever to be a hit in the U.S., I guess this would have been it. After all, not only is “Disco 2000” loaded with monster hooks, but the most monstrous, most gigantic of those hooks is a nod to a very recognizable U.S. hit. The opening riff to “Disco 2000” blatantly references Laura Branigan’s 1982 hit “Gloria,” and Jarvis alludes to it as well with some of his phrasing choices. But of course it wasn’t really a hit in the U.S. Although the grunge era was waning by this point, perhaps we still weren’t quite ready to embrace a rock song that wittily recalled the early '80s without devolving into smug irony and distance.

Of course, the song is more than just its pop-culture reference. “Disco 2000” occurs in the middle of Different Class, in the section that addresses love and longing. Here, Jarvis approaches the subject from an almost guilelessly naïve perspective. The narrator on the song carries a torch for his very first crush from childhood, a girl named Deborah. Back then, he thought there was a chance, and now, crazily enough, he still thinks so, trying desperately to arrange for a rendezvous at some half-remembered spot he claims to have suggested way back when. The song conveys all this, plus some expertly sketched memories of adolescent hormonal craziness, with Pulp’s patented mix of big pop cheer and deep, neurotic sadness.

The video tells a completely different storyline. It also features the single mix of the song, which adds extra keyboards, backing vocals and other changes. It’s very catchy, but in some ways it’s not quite Pulp. As contrast, here's a live version performed on MTV.

Nights of Suburbia

This song is hardly related at all to the groovily sinister “Styloroc (Nites of Suburbia).” “Nights of Suburbia” is another nervous Euro-goth exercise, with Jarvis moaning unpleasantly about something-or-other. He seems especially keen to let us know, time and again, that “the virgins became whores” on this song. The song came to light in a lo-fi live recording on a 1987 compilation tape, See You Later, Agitator! And now you can download it from PulpWiki.