Pulp @ Hordern Pavilion,Sydney (27/07/11)

Fri 29th Jul, 2011 in Gig Reviews

Reunion tours tend to be joyless affairs, held in joyless caverns by joyless artists whose passions have been superseded by a pressing need for cash. The Hordern Pavilion is the perfect Reunion Tour venue (‘Pavilion’ being a rather exotic epithet for a place that’s had a personality bypass). It’s a bloated cattle shed that’s been carefully constructed to ensure it’s 100% charm free. Fit for purpose? Depends. If you suffered the same misfortune as tonight’s support act ( Belles Will Ring ) you’d probably say ‘no’. Their sound bounced and repeated around the room like an extended belch.

And just in case anyone here supposed that they might like to have some fun, management has strategically placed warnings guarding against ‘fun’. Big placards are nailed above our heads that bellow No Smoking! and Crowd Surfing Prohibited! So Generation X, here we are. Our salad days are over, age is withering us and we’re fully ensconced in the era of the Reunion Tour.

Except Pulp’s return is no tawdry Take That revival. There are no flabby middle-aged women here giddy with woozy lust and vomiting on cheap wine. We’re all fully-grown, but the audience is simply glad of the opportunity to see a band we love that hasn’t been to these parts for a very long time. Oh and maybe we’re just a bit curious to see if our youth sounds as good as we thought it did 15 years ago.

Phew! It not only sounds good, but it looks fabulous. When the sheer curtain finally gives up on its laser penned chatter Jarvis Cocker emerges at nearly 50, still looking like he has pipe cleaners for bones and a massive library of porn. The trademark glasses are thick rimmed and grimy and the exaggerated gestures are filthy and borderline illegal.

As promised tonight is stuffed with “all your favourites”. Do You Remember the First Time?, Sorted for E’s and Wizz (complete with laser beams dissecting plumes of dry-ice) and Pencil Skirt feel as smart and subversive as they ever did. Disco 2000 is perfectly preserved as a student union sing-a-long. Babies’ supple bass line and tale of teenage yearning manages to combine innocence and perversion in one succinct and ultimately tender pop-song.

The nostalgia is seductive, and Cocker’s stage manner is still a saucy mix of Carry-On Camping and Dead Poets Society. Who else could quote Baudrillard then play suggestive slapstick with a flaccid microphone lead. It’s no surprise that the set follows him around like a lovesick puppy (although Candida Doyle doesn’t go unnoticed. Straight-backed and straight-faced behind the keys; the perfect icy foil to the lead man’s sexual largesse).

It’s not just Jarvis Cocker and a generous dollop of rose-tinted memories that make this ordinary Wednesday night exceptional. Unlike many of their contemporaries, Pulp’s back catalogue simply stands-up. This is Hardcore doesn’t sound of its time at all. Dark and difficult, its heavy strings and grown-up piano mirror the song’s bleak voyeuristic fantasies. The Fear and Sunrise are hardly pop favourites either. These downbeat paranoid tales are definitely not crowd pleasers but they are fine examples of the perceptive intelligence that sits at the heart of Pulp’s songs.

So instead of derailing the night, Cocker’s comedowns are shown the appreciation they deserve. As a reward Common People is served up with all the youthful joy and outrage you could wish for. Jarvis hasn’t let age cool his ire at social injustice and he writhes and spits like it was only Tuesday that he met his rich miss and her patronising taste in low-rent dates. Candida’s synths bubble with a barely concealed distaste and you’d swear that as she looks up and sees a mass of oldish big kids fervently dancing like they’re still young and poor, there’s more than a hint of a smile.

There’s an encore, naturally and Mis-shapes provides the perfect full stop. “We’re coming out of the sidelines” chant a thousand or so thirty-somethings who came here wondering if their best days were behind them, and left thinking that it didn’t matter a bit if they were.