Jarvis Cocker - "Big Julie" (mp3)
In my mad dash to hear all of the 2006 albums that I thought had a good chance of warranting a spot on my year-end list, there were only a few I didn't get around to by the end of December. So in the first few days of '07, I made a point to pick up a couple of those while I was still feeling motivated to, even if the listmaking incentive was gone, and got them on a stop to Amoeba when I was in San Francisco on my California trip. I'd been there once before, four years ago, and was simultaneously overwhelmed by not having enough time to seriously browse their selection and disappointed that they didn't have a couple things I was counting on them to (being the old fart that I in many ways am, I'm still loathe to buy CDs on the internet unless I'm sure I won't be able to find them in a store, so I still excitedly anticipate any visit to a record store with a wide selection, especially one I don't get near often).
One of my purchases was Jarvis, which definitely would've been top 10 material, maybe top 5, had I heard it in time. I saw it in a Maryland record store a while back, but at the time wasn't sure if there was an imminent U.S. release that it would make paying for the expensive import a little foolish, so I passed on it. By the time I came back sure that I'd have to settle for the import, it was gone, so I'm glad Amoeba came through. I expected Jarvis to fit pretty well into my recent listening habits of side projects and solo albums that yield diminishing returns from the band it was spun off from, but I think I like this album as much or more than We Love Life, which was a little problematic but had a few songs I loved. The appeal isn't in a faded glory way like The Who album, where I'm kind of revelling in how hoarse and old they sound while still kind of excited that they're still doing something resembling their peak material even slightly.
Really I'm just glad that Jarvis Cocker is still writing songs at all, let alone ones these good, since it seemed for a while like he was pretty happy to retreat into the French countryside or whatever and forget about that pop stardom lark. And the act of making this a solo album is still kind of in keeping with his humble, unambitious post-Britpop regular guy thing; it sounds more or less like a Pulp record, and given his history as the only consistent member of the band he has a right to put the Pulp name on anything he does. But doing that would mean competing with the past, taking a serious stab at the U.K. singles chart or headlining Glastonbury, shit like that. Usually I'm kind of disappointed when a musician opts for a change in the name on the front of their product if the product is just as good as the old stuff and not too different; it's almost a given that it means less publicity, less name recognition, taking one's self down a rung in terms of fame. That kind of thing happens in indie rock all the time; a good band has one minor lineup change and decides to get a new name and become a whole new band, and half their fanbase doesn't get the memo and never hears the 'new' band's stuff, which is suspiciously similiar to the old band's stuff.
In Jarvis Cocker's case, though, I can kind of understand why he'd do that. There's less of a shadow to come out from under. It's a new beginning, more humble almost by design. No still trying to wring an event or comeback out of every album like Oasis, or getting progressively more pretentious while occasionally stumbling onto garish crossover success like Damon Albarn. Jarvis feels like it wants to be small even when some of the songs swagger and ring in your head as much as Different Class. Pulp are practically one of the only British bands of the past 20 years that I really gave a shit about, and for a while after We Love Life I wondered if they'd leave behind any significant legacy. These days, their legacy seems pretty assured, even if it's mostly signified by shit I can't stand, like dude performing with CSS, crap covers by Franz Ferdinand and William Shatner, and hipster haircut hell taking its name from a Pulp song.
I haven't read enough about the record to really know what people consider the highlights, but "Big Julie" is hitting me as the really amazing one that I've been fighting not to listen to over and over and burn myself out on since the first time I heard it. Got even better after I got around to reading the lyrics, which of course I felt compelled to self-consciously follow his "please do not read the words whilst listening to the recordings" request, as if he'd find out if I did. But I sneak looks at it during that long silence between "Quantum Theory" and "Running The World," which again I'm obediant and/or OCD enough to actually let play at least part of the way through. "Running The World" is more the classic Jarvis sentiment, but "Big Julie" is the one that's just killing me right now, like almost overwhelming, heart-explodingly good. And I don't throw around that kind of hyperbole often.
In my mad dash to hear all of the 2006 albums that I thought had a good chance of warranting a spot on my year-end list, there were only a few I didn't get around to by the end of December. So in the first few days of '07, I made a point to pick up a couple of those while I was still feeling motivated to, even if the listmaking incentive was gone, and got them on a stop to Amoeba when I was in San Francisco on my California trip. I'd been there once before, four years ago, and was simultaneously overwhelmed by not having enough time to seriously browse their selection and disappointed that they didn't have a couple things I was counting on them to (being the old fart that I in many ways am, I'm still loathe to buy CDs on the internet unless I'm sure I won't be able to find them in a store, so I still excitedly anticipate any visit to a record store with a wide selection, especially one I don't get near often).
One of my purchases was Jarvis, which definitely would've been top 10 material, maybe top 5, had I heard it in time. I saw it in a Maryland record store a while back, but at the time wasn't sure if there was an imminent U.S. release that it would make paying for the expensive import a little foolish, so I passed on it. By the time I came back sure that I'd have to settle for the import, it was gone, so I'm glad Amoeba came through. I expected Jarvis to fit pretty well into my recent listening habits of side projects and solo albums that yield diminishing returns from the band it was spun off from, but I think I like this album as much or more than We Love Life, which was a little problematic but had a few songs I loved. The appeal isn't in a faded glory way like The Who album, where I'm kind of revelling in how hoarse and old they sound while still kind of excited that they're still doing something resembling their peak material even slightly.
Really I'm just glad that Jarvis Cocker is still writing songs at all, let alone ones these good, since it seemed for a while like he was pretty happy to retreat into the French countryside or whatever and forget about that pop stardom lark. And the act of making this a solo album is still kind of in keeping with his humble, unambitious post-Britpop regular guy thing; it sounds more or less like a Pulp record, and given his history as the only consistent member of the band he has a right to put the Pulp name on anything he does. But doing that would mean competing with the past, taking a serious stab at the U.K. singles chart or headlining Glastonbury, shit like that. Usually I'm kind of disappointed when a musician opts for a change in the name on the front of their product if the product is just as good as the old stuff and not too different; it's almost a given that it means less publicity, less name recognition, taking one's self down a rung in terms of fame. That kind of thing happens in indie rock all the time; a good band has one minor lineup change and decides to get a new name and become a whole new band, and half their fanbase doesn't get the memo and never hears the 'new' band's stuff, which is suspiciously similiar to the old band's stuff.
In Jarvis Cocker's case, though, I can kind of understand why he'd do that. There's less of a shadow to come out from under. It's a new beginning, more humble almost by design. No still trying to wring an event or comeback out of every album like Oasis, or getting progressively more pretentious while occasionally stumbling onto garish crossover success like Damon Albarn. Jarvis feels like it wants to be small even when some of the songs swagger and ring in your head as much as Different Class. Pulp are practically one of the only British bands of the past 20 years that I really gave a shit about, and for a while after We Love Life I wondered if they'd leave behind any significant legacy. These days, their legacy seems pretty assured, even if it's mostly signified by shit I can't stand, like dude performing with CSS, crap covers by Franz Ferdinand and William Shatner, and hipster haircut hell taking its name from a Pulp song.
I haven't read enough about the record to really know what people consider the highlights, but "Big Julie" is hitting me as the really amazing one that I've been fighting not to listen to over and over and burn myself out on since the first time I heard it. Got even better after I got around to reading the lyrics, which of course I felt compelled to self-consciously follow his "please do not read the words whilst listening to the recordings" request, as if he'd find out if I did. But I sneak looks at it during that long silence between "Quantum Theory" and "Running The World," which again I'm obediant and/or OCD enough to actually let play at least part of the way through. "Running The World" is more the classic Jarvis sentiment, but "Big Julie" is the one that's just killing me right now, like almost overwhelming, heart-explodingly good. And I don't throw around that kind of hyperbole often.
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on Tuesday, January 16, 2007 at 6:52 PM.
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