I don’t like Britpop. In fact, I feel about Britpop the way most Britpop affectionados feel about Grunge (of which should write a defence at some point.) The whole concept of the genre, based on a knee-jerk anti-Americanism and and crude parody of class conciousness, has never appealed to me. Of course some great music fell under the Britpop label- Radiohead and Manic Street Preachers both produced great ‘Britpop’ albums, but both encountered the genre en passant and did not represent the same principles as Britpop heavyweights such as Blur and Oasis. But one undeniably Britpop group which does fascinate me is Pulp, but not so much for the ‘classic Britpop’ albums they released while the genre was at its peak (His ‘n’ Hers and Different Class) as for their final two albums, released to general indifference as the genre was dying and after it had been killed off completely.

Britpop went into decline in 1997 as the genre’s most prominent acts either released albums which failed to match their earlier success or which represented a change in musical direction. Oasis, for example, fell in the former category, releasing an album so unlistenable that they’ve spent the last ten years disowning it. Blur’s success continued with their self-titled album, but the change of musical style towards the American alternative rock they had previously derided was something a retreat from the ideas they had previously espoused. And Pulp released the fantastic but challenging This Is Hardcore, a dark record which explored themes of personal crisis and the seedy underbelly of Soho’s sex industry, which got a cool reception from the polo shirted Essex boys looking for feel-good tunes to drink larger and jump up and down to.

Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker made a name writing ‘kitchen sink’ dramas, dealing with troubled relationships and small-town dramas. (On b-side The Professional he mocks himself for this, singing “I’m only trying to give you what you’ve come to expect/Just another song ’bout single mothers and sex.”) In doing so he often focuses on the female point of view, a tendency he ascribes to being brought up by his mother without knowing his father. But This Is Hardcore is a very male centred album, focussing on Jarvis’ own post-Britpop state of mind. Having reached the heights of Britpop celebrity after he invaded the stage to interrupt Michael Jackson basking in his own ego at the 1996 BRIT Awards ceremony, Jarvis crumbled under the pressure of fame. A cocaine addiction and the break-up of a long term relationship left him depressed, and positively senile by pop standards at the age of 33, he suffered what we might call a mid-life crisis.

The resulting album is, in my opinion, Pulp’s finest work, exploring dark lyrical themes and musical territory which expanded far beyond the dull, retro confines of Britpop. Lead single Help the Aged saw Jarvis looking with despondency and empathy towards isolation in an old people’s home- hardly cheery subject matter, and it was greeted largely with bemusement from the Britpop faithful. Other songs dealt with male egotism, domestic drudgery, dashed ambitions, his failed relationship and absentee father. But stand out track was the album’s title track, which conjured up seedy images of exploitation, pornography and prostitution. Really this post was prompted by recently seeing the stunning video for this track for the first time.

Pulp’s Later with Jools Holland appearance for this album is also well worth watching- see The Fear, Dishes and This Is Hardcore.

The music was all augmented by the fantastic photography artwork, directed by painter John Currin, which showed individual band members in an expensive hotel with people who are presumably call girls. The impression of artificial beauty, painting over the cracks with makeup, really struck me when I first got the album as a 12 or 13 year old. I can only find two of these images on the net. In one keyboardist Candida Doyle looks almost enviously at a laughing, made-up blonde; in another bassist Steve Mackey looks dispassionately past an almost completely naked girl on the floor of his hotel room, symbolising complete power and complete helplessness. The cover itself shows a girl seemingly engaged in sex but with eyes dead and expression passionless.

Pulp’s final album We Love Life didn’t quite match the heights of it’s predecessor, but is nevertheless a great piece of work, musically more experimental than ever, praised by critics but failed to interest the public. Along with releases from Super Furry Animals and Mogwai, it was one of the few great albums to come out during the post-Britpop slump, a dire period in British musical history.

A bit of a shame, then, that Pulp only seem to be remembered for the safe guitar pop of Disco 2000. But that’s what happens when you take an ideology and paste it onto a musical movement.