Jarvis

If you know your tunes (and you'd not be reading this if you didn't) then you'll already have the marvellous eponymous album from Nancy Sinatra nestling proudly in your collection. It was one of the sparks of fun from 2004, complimented by some top-notch input from other songwriters. One track stood out as being profoundly English, and wittily introspective. It talked of not being let down by a rogue of a boyfriend, yet deftly avoided any lovey-dovey claptrap. It was of course a Jarvis Cocker composition which will always stand out as a beacon of lyrical independence. You can usually spot one of his penned ditties, as more often than not he mentions his mother too. Psychologists dig in then.

Thankfully that track is included on this solo debut from the Pulp frontman, as sung by the man himself. "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time" is simply the best thing here. It's a four minute monster of intelligent pop but the rest are no slouches, even though you will have that track on repeat a dozen times. "Black Magic" has a stuttered Motown feel, but Jarv putting the kitchen sink into his performance. Naturally there are old Pulp echoes, and the "Nothing Changed" feel to "Heavy Weather" is pert, and ends up being a surprisingly upbeat, solid, pop song ?with a hook that truly embeds.

Pictures woven with words are what he does best, and "I Will Kill Again" is perfectly disturbing. The delicacy of "Baby's Coming Back To Me" is an equally lovely triumph. Simple in Cocker terms, and a real tale of warmth and affection. Only he can be so bold as to create titles like "Fat Children" and "From Auschwitz to Ipswich". Admittedly the latter being more inspired in tune and words than the raw garage band feel of the former, but they are both required in the brainscape of creativity, and an obviously genuine sentiment that this is him ?like it or lump it.

Check out the strings on "Disney Time" as they enhance another awkward insight we'd prefer not to be reminded about ?honestly being just another of his hallmarks. There's nothing confused about the invitation to go take some drugs and have sex on "Tonite", yet it's another snapshot of real life as performed by real people. Insults and injuries, the hurt of looking out of the perfect mould on "Big Julie". There might be happy endings down the line, but not at this teenage stage of the picture. Genuine, sad, yet somehow empowering.

We'll forgive him the couple of instrumental twiddles that don't break the 30 second barrier and that top and tail the album, even though their need is not obviously apparent. The cerebral musings on "Quantum Theory" are an optimistic way to (almost) finish, before you are left with one of those irritating silent pauses of half an hour, before that final hidden track pops up to bite you in the behind.

It's worth the wait though, and as a mark of extraordinarily explicit defiance for the common man, takes some beating. But as ever with Jarvis, nothing is just there for effect. It's all meat on the bone for one of the gangliest bodies in pop. Like Ian McCulloch (Bunnymen), David Gedge (Wedding Present), and even Brett Anderson (Suede), Jarvis is one of a gang of not that many who keep the voice of British music sane, unique and unbeatable.

Neil Chase
Music Editor
January 2007