Beauty on the fire (We Love Life - Pulp)

Member Name: dreamerz

Product:	We Love Life - Pulp
Date:	23/10/01 (129 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Some delicious decadent music, 'Weeds', 'Bad Cover Version', 'Wickerman'

Disadvantages: Too much filler, Lacks a killer single, 'Bob Lind', I Love Life'

Things haven’t been too healthy in the Pulp camp of late, after the critical and commercial acclaim which greeted their 1995 release ‘Different Class’ it hasn’t been hard to observe a general downward curve. The furore which accompanied lead singer Jarvis Cocker’s ‘protest’ against Michael Jackson’s performance at the 96 Brit awards seemingly permanently transformed the group from ‘that band who sang Common People’ to ‘that band whose singer mooned at Wacko Jacko’! To make matters worse the follow up to ‘Different Class’, ‘This is Hardcore’ which was either their comedown/sex/drugs album (delete as appropriate) received a somewhat muted reception both from the press and the charts. The dark lyrics, subdued music and lack of a recognisable hit single led to the album being rather over looked and appeared to wound the group fairly deeply. Rather huffily the group appeared to disappear, whilst Cocker conversely seemed to attempt to thrust himself into other media’s. Becoming the rather unlikely looking boy friend of Hollywood starlet Chloe Sevigny, playing a rather embarrassing DJ set during a Chanel party and involving himself in a rather self consciously contemporary Channel Four arts programme, titled perhaps ironically ‘Outsider Art’. After years of staring in at the world of celebrity from outside in the pissing rain, Cocker had found himself invited in and appeared to be making himself at home. However, the Cocker of old was still clearly visible, Jarvis still seemed to have borrowed his wardrobe from Oxfam, and could still be relied on for a suitably wry line of bitter sarcasm.

The band briefly reappeared at last years Reading festival to a fairly muted reception. The band's performance was fairly mediocre and dark rumours of a finished binned album circulated shortly after. This was compounded by the announcement that famously
difficult artist Scott Walker would now be producing the new Pulp album. Walker is infamous for having taken the legacy of what was effectively an early ‘boy’ band, The Walker Brothers and crafted a new persona as a wilful artist. Anyone who can honestly say they can listen for pleasure to the entirety of Walker’s last studio album ‘Tilt’, deserves a medal or perhaps a straitjacket. So it is perhaps surprising then that ‘We Love Life’ is such a success.

The music press has been busily commentating that this is Pulps ‘pastoral’ album and fair enough with song titles such as ‘Trees’, ‘Wickerman’ or ‘Birds in Your Garden’, Pulp don’t seem to be exactly avoiding this label. However, Pulp have not gone completely countrified on us, ‘Wickerman’ despite its title is named after a city centre region of Sheffield, whilst despite the metaphorical allusions of songs such as ‘Trees’ or ‘Weeds’ both songs tackle classic Pulp themes. The former a bittersweet reminiscence of long lost love, the latter another re write of Pulp’s manifesto for society’s outsiders. Musically there is a mix of the old and the new: ‘Weeds’ resounds with a curiously barn storming country rock rhythm much in the same style as Witness’ recent ‘Under a Sun’ album, whilst ‘Trees’ sways with a sumptuous string section. More familiar is the semi anthemic ‘The Night When Minnie Timperly Died’ or the epic ‘Wickerman’ which borrows some of its grand pretensions from the title track of ‘This is Hardcore’. As with every Pulp album since ‘His and Hers’ there is a wealth of excellent material, however more problematically there is a distinct lack of stand out singles present. Certainly there is no ‘Common People’ but equally there is no ‘BabiesR
17; or ‘Do You Remember the First Time’. There isn’t even a ‘Help the Aged’! The best tracks here take a while to come together, multiple plays are required before their true picture becomes clear. Cocker’s lyrical wit largely remains as sharp as ever, but the music this time around is far more hazy. Conversely the few songs that do make a half hearted attempt at the pop jugular either appear lazy and dashed off, such as ‘Bob Lind’ or even worse suffocating under a barrage of cheeziness like the slightly sickly sweet ‘Birds in Your Garden’. ‘We Love Life’ is overall a worthy album, but not one that is likely to restore Pulp’s commercial stock.

Of course Pulp were not always famous. Despite the band having existed in one incarnation or another since the mid 80s it wasn’t until 1994’s Island debut ‘His & Hers’ that the disparate elements of the band’s sound finally came together. The bands back catalogue prior to this point has been rehashed on a number of occasions but as many an unwary new Pulp fan has discovered is best ignored. Cocker’s voice and lyrics are a consistent presence, but any semblance of the band’s melodic strengths are difficult to find. ‘His and Hers’ was different, packed with mini pop masterpieces like ‘Do You Remember the First Time’ or ‘Lipgloss’ it was both intelligent, amusing and startlingly good. Cocker skipped lyrical style from heavily ironic (‘Joyriders’) to semi tragic (‘David’s Last Summer’) to almost slap stick (‘Babies), whilst the band created a backing of adhesive melody with a slightly cheap but never quite tacky feel.

‘Babies’ may have become an indie dance floor favourite but it was the break thorough success of the single ‘Common People’ that catapulted Pulp into the mainstream. The tale
of a posh girl who wanted to slum it with the working classes seemed to hit a chord with the British public and Pulp were eventually rewarded with a number one UK album, ‘Different Class’. Subsequent single releases poked fun at drugs culture (‘Sorted for E’s and Whizz’) and gained them a Sun front cover who in an ‘unusual’ irony missing moment (*ahem*) accused them of encouraging substance abuse. The double A-side with ‘Sorted...’, ‘Mishapes’ set an underclass rebellion to a stage show tune with mixed results. ‘Disco 2000’ recycled the riff from ‘Gloria’ to zeitgeist shagging millennium success come 1999. ‘Something Changed’ meanwhile demonstrated that Jarvis could write a touching love song should the mood take him, however much his tongue was lodged in his cheek. Despite all this and some more interesting sonic shapes on the likes of ‘I Spy’, ‘Different Class’ was a weaker album then its predecessor but with Pulp then flavour of the month it didn’t seem to matter one iota.

Post Jacko came the more subdued ‘This is Hardcore’ an ultimately more rewarding album then ‘Different Class’ but undoubtedly harder work. The pop hooks seemed to flow less easily this time round with ‘Help the Aged’ and ‘Glory Days’ all anthemic bombast with relatively little substance. Instead Pulp perfected a dark, claustrophobic and deeply seedy sound, best illustrated by ‘The Fear’ and the grandeur of the title track. The lack of another instant rabble rousing single and perhaps the explicit but revolting cover art work helped to sabotage the albums commercial potential and Pulp saw their chart climbing ability suddenly stilted. As noted earlier ‘We Love Life’ is unlikely to reverse that general slide, more emphatically then on ‘This is Hardcore’, Pulp have tu
rned their back on the mainstream and the singles chart and have instead concentrated on making a cohesive album, and despite the odd weak link it largely works well.

Curtain raiser ‘Weeds’ is an interesting departure for Pulp, revealing a previously unnoticed acquaintance with the likes of The Byrds and the Flying Burrito Brothers. Indeed remove Cocker’s distinctive vocal and you could be listening to recent imitators such as the Cosmic Rough Riders or Witness. The track begins with a lightly strummed country acoustic which is quickly joined by a backdrop of strung out slide guitar feedback and a stomping drum rhythm. A backing of “ah’d” harmony vocals dresses the bridge, coming on like a slightly out of tune Teenage Fanclub, before an earth shattering chorus explodes out of the vocal build up and stomps around with a menacing and yet vulnerable swagger. The track is blessed with a churning guitar solo which develops into a defiant repeated cry of “We’d like to get you out of your mind” which swirls around the mix insistently. The lyric bears the hall marks of a Cocker outsider anthem, but this time painting the lead characters as asylum seekers, complete with hints of grubby unromantic sex “You want some entertainment / Go on then shove it up there if you must” and the irony of societies attitude. A powerful opener and one which sets a fine precedent for the album as a whole.

‘Weeds II (Origin of Species)’ stretches Cocker’s outsider metaphor yet further, this time more directly traceable to his roots. The lyric is spoken, Cocker’s voice sounding faintly sinister; a voice that almost drips with seedy evil. The backing is slinky and bass heavy, a 70s porn soundtrack re worked by a collaboration of Daft Punk and the Pet Shop Boys, but with all the glamour taken out. Gently swirling female vocals unfurl as Cocker holds court over his captive audience
. It’s an audacious move and one that breaks any expectations ‘Weeds’ may have created in the listener, although the dense monotony does threaten towards the end to become a little tedious. This is late night background music which threatens to take hold of your soul, Cocker playing the devil and sounding almost like a blue collar Peter Stringfellow. In some ways it covers the same ground as ‘This is Hardcore’, although the lack of a distinctive melody holds it back from equalling this peer.

Following suit in some ways, but taking the ‘This is Hardcore’ template and improving on it is the truly epic album centrepiece ‘Wickerman’. At over eight minutes long the track sprawls unrepentantly, yet clever construction means it never feels a second too long. A twisted little guitar line introduces the track, with the occasional hint of a malnourished string instrument creeping out of the desolation. Cocker adopts his speaking voice once more, although this time trimming the sinister edge from his voice, utilising a more narrative style before breaking into a slight croon as his trip down memory lane takes him across the darkened city. The melody changes around a third of a way through, with a ghostly full string section joining Cocker’s voice as his memoirs take a different turn. Things get more atmospheric still as Cocker narrates the slightly ridiculous tale of an old local tradition, throwing in confused dreams of couplets such as “I went there with you once / Except you were someone else”, whilst the backing sounds like it’s auditioning for a low budget horror film. From this slightly odd turn, a sudden warmth adds colour to the strings and Cocker suddenly begins crooning a wonderfully affecting melody. The track build towards a swooning climax of choral vocals and a thundering rhythmic conclusion which recalls ‘I Spy’ before fading to a single violin and a rol
l of thunder. Quite simply this is a stunning piece of work.

Flyer single ‘Trees’ is also blessed with the same sumptuous orchestral vision, beginning with a lovely staccato sweep of strings before Cocker croons broken heartedly “I took an air rifle / And shot a magpie to the ground”, and who said Pulp weren’t a romantic’s band? Not a natural single perhaps, Pulp have chosen it to the flyer the album campaign anyway. It reveals its appeal slowly, the chorus on a first listen unremarkable, gradually leaves an impression, whilst the middle eight with its sudden burst of guitar has a delicious little hook which soon takes seed in your subconscious. The slightly tacky sounding synthesiser on the instrumental does its best to ruin the party, but the final chorus, with the repeated lyric of ‘Go tell it to the trees” is enough to elevate this to a Pulp classic.

Equally delicious is the aching ballad, rather oddly titled ‘Bad Cover Version’. Rather then the more elegant approach adopted on ‘Trees’, here Pulp go for the full kitchen sink but pull it off with tremendous aplomb. The opening notes are unsettling, carrying with them the hint of ‘Weeds II’ before, chiming guitars and yes bells enter, reassuring the listener. Cocker is again in full crooning mood, with a slightly narcissistic edge to the lyric “I heard old girl friend / Had turned to the church / She’s trying to replace me but it’ll never work.” The chorus goes straight for the jugular, rising up on a tide of strings and almost gospel tinged backing vocals, whilst the lyrics carry with them the bitter taste of a rebound fling “And every time he kisses you / It leaves behind the taste of saccharine.” The second refrain goes further with dual levelled vocals, with Cocker harmonising with himself in a baritone and bombastic tenor. The song collapses down to practically
nothing before sweeping itself up into one final Sinatra style climax. Overblown certainly, but terrifically enjoyable all the same.

‘The Night That Minnie Driver Died’ is the closest we get old style, rabble rousing Pulp, although the opening drum pattern strangely reminds of Massive Attack if anything else. That rhythm remains at the back of the mix during the verse, but a biting guitar line gives the track a more familiar edge. The chorus jangles and makes a fair fist of soaring, although sadly not quite to the extent we would expect. The track almost sounds like a Pulp impersonator, the elements are in place, but something is not quite right. ‘I Love Life’ is a slightly more world weary reworking of a similar theme, but fails at almost the first hurdle. It comes on rather like a slowed down version of ‘Mis Shapes’, but without the requisite theatrical pretension it falls flat on its face. The pounding ‘Bob Lind’ meanwhile has potential in spades, but sadly fails to develop into a memorable chorus the circling verse suggests.

‘Birds in Your Garden’ is an oddity that may have been previously been unseen in the musical world, resembling somewhat the rather unseemly coupling between Teenage Fanclub and The Supremes. The chattering bird noises in the opening seconds give a clue, but the subdued acoustics suggest a slightly country tinged lament. The jangling electric which suddenly enters jars a little, but the chorus when it appears is nothing if not a shock, sugar coated with a plea for make up sex. With the Spector-esque strings and the swooning female harmonies almost expects Cocker to announce “You have to hold him / Squeeze him” (etc). The cheeziness in the chorus one can only assume is ironic, certainly the urge to snigger when Cocker is implored to “Come on and give it to her / You know its now or never!” is hard to resist. However, the sweetness
of the melody is strangely beguiling, almost irresistible.

Closer ‘Sunrise’ once again returns to the epic ballad mode, with a subdued ‘Harvest’ era Neil Young feel to the proceedings. Neat little lyrical conceits such as “All that I had done / Is overfill the ashtray of my life” add to the appeal of the simple melody whilst the descending chorus wisely escapes over egging the pudding, leaving the song quietly moving. The song leads into a slow burning ball of instrumental excess which manages to compliment the more subdued sung section and complete the album on a climactic high.

‘We Love Life’ is an interesting album, and certainly explores direction that one would not have associated with Pulp. The lack of a killer single may fatally hinder any hope of a commercial recovery and there is a little too much filler to warrant awarding classic album status, but Pulp have done enough here to suggest the world would be a far duller place without there warped take on life.

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