Review: Pulp - Cardiff International Area, 12/07/2023

I couldn't resist putting my music journo hat back on to write a review of the most euphoric 'encore' I will ever experience

When Jarvis Cocker studied at St Martin’s College, it certainly paid off: he, and of course the other members of Pulp, have produced not just a rollicking encore of a show, but a piece of art for the eyes, ears, and soul.

Quoting a line from This is Hardcore, Pulp ensured their show was in fact the encore we were all waiting for, even down to the presence of curtains around the stage. Opening number, I Spy, crept out from under the curtains, rising to a crescendo as they drew back and Cocker rose up out of the back of the stage. He still cuts a jagged, striking figure, strangely fashionable again in his flared suit, and of course, as charismatic as ever.

Over the next two hours Pulp treated us to all the best of their back catalogue, swiftly getting the audience dancing to fan favourites Disco 2000 and Mis-Shapes, before bringing us briefly to earth as they dedicated Something Changed to the late Steve Mackey. Something Changed was a real highlight; billed as “probably Pulp’s only straightforward love song”, you could feel the warmth in the room as everybody stood together, sang, and remembered the moment that ‘something changed’ for them.

“Is anybody wearing a glove?” asked Cocker, squinting in the bright stage lights, before launching into the cheekily euphemistic Pink Glove. Jarvis Cocker is a constant, jerking, electric presence, his whole body telling the story of the songs he sings. On reflection, his moves owe more than a little to voguing, although his wrists angles would not be sharp enough for any ballroom scene. The rest of the band is fairly static in comparison: do they feel it is their duty to let their frontman shine, or does Cocker just naturally outshine anybody he is in a room with?

The mysterious Elysium Collective provided stringed and vocal accompaniment, appearing as a Greek chorus of sirens during the likes of Weeds and After You, before, suddenly, transforming into a portable rave (replete with bucket hats and percussion instruments) during Sorted for Es and Whizz.

The stage set and lighting was perfectly curated, with video screen steps to the rear of the stage for Cocker to pose and leap from, and spectacular lasers for Es and Whizz. There were three bursts of confetti, fireworks, and no end of surprising items appearing as if by magic to the rear of the stage, from an armchair for our frontman to sit in with a cup of tea, to a huge, almost blinding ‘sun’, rising, of course, during Sunrise.

They promised us an encore, and on this occasion, we were lucky enough to get two. As the curtains closed on Sunrise the crowd roared until Jarvis popped back out and gave us an irreverent quote from Buckminster Fuller, inventor of the geodesic dome, born on that day. “You’ll have to be quiet, this is a quiet one” he announced, before beguiling us with a solo rendition of Like a Friend, during which the curtains reopened and the core members of the band reappeared. Mark Webber had adequate chance to showcase his impressive guitar skills, and Candida Doyle, no longer the “only girl in Pulp”, looked comfortable in her place behind the electric organ and synths.

Cocker, who had written several Welsh phrases down on a piece of paper by his feet (eaten up by the largely Welsh Cardiff audience), announced he’d been told there wasn’t really a Welsh word for Underwear, and thus pondered if the Welsh owned any at all. Underwear, the song, is Pulp at their sleazy best. Despite being the same age as my dad, somehow Jarvis retains that cheeky, playful persona which allows you to forgive him his breathless reminiscence of breasts and belly curves in F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.

As the show inevitably drew into Common People, the atmosphere in the arena was completely transported, a group of thousands united in never wanting to go home again, to stay in this Pulp-soundtracked, confetti-strewn dreamworld where we knew nearly every word. As the last chords faded away, surely this was the end? Not so. Despite a movement of people towards the exits, the arena lights stayed low, and the stage filled again, gifting us both Pulp’s newest song (After You), and “perhaps their oldest in the set” Razzmatazz. It was appropriate that they finally left us with Glory Days, something which Pulp proved to be far from over.

Support was provided by Baxter Dury, a man who is unmistakeably his father’s son. Accompanied by the wonderful and woefully under-promoted Madelaine Hart, Dury took us haphazardly yet mesmerisingly through old and new songs from his repertoire. “Celebrate me, celebrate me” he urges in one of his recent songs, leaving us to wonder why we weren’t celebrating the rest of his band as well.

Cardiff International Arena is one of the smaller “arena” venues, and it benefits from this in still maintaining a sense of intimacy with the stage. Toilets were amazingly clean and well looked after, and there was even provision to buy a Slush Puppy if that was what you so desired, as well as the usual eye-wateringly priced two-pint cups of lager you expect.

Admittedly I was only four when Different Class was released, but I remember well the subsequent Britpop wars between Blur and Oasis. Pulp, the outsider bet, have with this perfect, euphoric concert more than cemented a well-known fact: they were the runaway winners after all.