Saturday 1st July 2023
Let me begin with the things that don’t matter. Yes, the queues for the bar at Finsbury Park were horrendous as always. Yes, the organization of the whole event was terrible. Yes, we pretty much missed all of the support bands in a quest to spend as little time in Finsbury Park as possible. And yes, I now have a hangover for the ages. But in five years’ time, I won’t remember that. What I will remember is how incredible Pulp were on a balmy summer night in London…
Just as with Neighbourhood Weekender a few weeks ago, the big screen informs the crowd that THIS is what Pulp do for an encore. Jarv emerges from the stage against the backdrop of a glorious circular moon. I Spy kicks in. Finsbury Park goes nuts. It’s slightly strange hearing a song that is basically a class war boiled down to three minutes in the middle-class enclave of Finsbury Park but I’m surrounded by fellow northerners so I don’t have to start killing kestrels to affirm my identity just yet.
To play ‘Disco 2000’ so early in the set feels almost insouciant. Like a Spanish midfielder nonchalantly pulling off a backheel when a side-footed pass would have done the job just as well. It’s heavenly. At this point we decide as a collective that the people around us simply aren’t having enough fun and so we wade further into the mix. A reminder that everyone in my small circle is approaching 40 at a speed of knots. Only Jarv could inspire a move further in to the crowd rather than away from it. ‘Misshapes’ and a gorgeous ‘Something Changed’ follow with the former dedicated to Pride weekend and the latter to recently departed Pulp guitarist Steve Mackey. Poignant. The band sound incredible, indeed, for all of Finsbury Park’s faults, the sound quality is perfect all night – as good as I’ve ever heard live music sound at an outdoor gig.
The re-emergence of the relatively obscure album track ‘Pink Glove’ on this tour has been heartening and it is met with mass singalongs before the sweeping melodrama of ‘F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E’ confirms what we already knew. This is a special band. This is a special evening. The hits keep coming with ‘Sorted for E’s & Wizz’ particularly prescient when actually played in front of 20000 people standing in a field and ‘This is Hardcore’ is as seedily transformative as ever before the double header of ‘Do You Remember the First Time?’ and ‘Babies’ brings the house down. Heck, it brings the whole estate down. Not a single building is left standing. ‘Sunrise’ closes out the first part of the set and the spectacular outro is a reminder of just how incredible this band is. Forget Oasis and Blur. Pulp won the Britpop war. They were always the best of them.
The band return to the stage for ‘Like a Friend’ – the great lost Pulp classic – and when Nick Banks’ drums kick in after Jarv’s exquisite intro the whole park goes into raptures. It’s quite something to be lost in music in this way. It only happens a handful of times in a lifetime. Christ, drink it in. The band close out with a triumphant rendition of ‘Underwear’ before, of course, ‘Common People’ concludes the evening. The word ‘genius’ has become meaningless. The rush to label something an ‘anthem’ has cheapened the meaning of the word beyond recognition. Make no bones about it. This song is an anthem. Jarivs is a genius. It will endure long after Candida Doyle, Nick Banks, Mark Webber and Jarvis Branson Cocker have departed this plain. Long after I’ve consumed my final pint of Guinness. This song is an anthem. In the true sense of the word. The band leave the stage. The crowd are shellshocked. Breathless. In thrall. And just like that, it’s all over…
…but wait. Cocker saunters back on stage. What fresh hell is this? In what cold clockwork of the stars and the nations is Jarv, the hand, pointing that second? It’s only a bloody second encore. ‘Razzamatazz’ is no ‘Common People’ but it’s greeted like an old friend nevertheless. And boy, does it sound great. Another song that should be a household name but then that has never been Pulp’s style. The key to the band’s longevity is that they still feel like some kind of dark secret. A members-only club for those in the know.
And now this time it actually is over. Friendships that have lasted my whole life are cemented over 90 minutes in a field in London. This. Is. Hardcore.
Quite simply, one of the best gigs I’ve ever seen. Excuse the hyperbole. I’m afraid I can’t help it. Hold me.