Good ol' Jarvis

Check out This is Hardcore sound clips at
The Planet of Sound.

By Andrew Chan

"I am not Jesus, though I have the same initials." Oh, Jarvis. You probably thought of this shocka five years ago, but you knew you couldn't get away with it then. Now that Britain has reached the stage when everyone would kill to be Jarvis, people will listen to whatever you say--just like they used to listen to Jesus.

This is Hardcore does not contain the kind of pop anti-anthems that made Different Class one of the ultimate party albums of '90s Britpop. It's unlikely that it will rival the level of commercial success that its predecessor enjoyed--pubs aren't exactly going to indulge in music that discusses the demerits of aging when half their customers are even older than Jarvis, and there are only so many anthems that a band could allow itself to do on Es and wizz (read: one). But Pulp fans won't be disappointed. The songs are still good, the guitars are still compressed, Candida's sweet tinklings are as candid as ever, and you get to learn more about the ol' man.

Then there's the album cover. Like all good Britpop bands, and J.C.'s pal Mr. Jackson, Pulp is meticulous in its sleeve designs. The Union Jack dispels the p.c. notion of "never judge a book by its cover," and it's a safe bet that Jarvis, Damon (Blur), and Brett (Suede) are all thrice as vain as Tommy Lee and Eddie Vedder combined. The new sleeve oozes sex, starting with a scantily clad beauty and ending with the same beauty eyed by guitarist Russel Senior. Ooh-ah...

The opening track, "The Fear," isn't Pulp's most melodically-challenging song, but it sets the flavor efficiently, with Jarvis broadcasting his fear for The End. It matches nicely with the equally grim "Help the Aged," in which Jarvis urges us not to "just put [the aged] in a home" because they used to sniff glue. Musically, the song is yet another fine product from Pulp's recipe of luscious verses and whining, distorted choruses. On the surface, the title track is about porn, but delving deeper, it contains the line that probably concerns Jarvis the most: "What exactly do you do for an encore?/ Cos this is Hardcore." This applies to everything. So what if you've become the indiest band or the dirtiest porn star (Ron Jeremy included)? So what if you're Jarvis? What comes next? You get older, and people will stop giving a toss about you, that's what. Also nowadays, Pulp is capable of sounding like someone else. "Glory Days" and "I'm a Man," both sound surprisingly Springsteen, and the discoey "Party Hard" will remind you of U2. Blimey, who would have thought that Sheffield could sound Irish?

The message of this album is clear. Next time you see Jarvis in the pub, ask him for an I.D. and he'll probably laff at ya and spare ya a pint. Just don't tell him he's getting older.

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