Pulp at Latitude Festival, Suffolk — triumph of pop’s outsiders

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The last time I saw this many people claiming to be working class I was on Twitter. At Latitude’s main Obelisk Arena, Pulp brought an uplifting headline set to a close with “Common People”, their 1990s-defining hit about a posh student who is slumming it for kicks. “You’ll never live like common people,” roared the punters at this most well-heeled of festivals.

If Pulp’s arch frontman Jarvis Cocker spotted the irony, he was too polite to mention it. As he noted while introducing the band members during an extended coda, “We’re all just people.” Nevertheless, almost 30 years on from the song’s release, its critique of class seems more relevant than ever. Britain has one of the highest levels of income inequality in the developed world.

Cocker avoided polemics but, from the sinister opener “I Spy”, as his unmistakable gangly silhouette rose behind the stage, he introduced a fight between “haves and have nots”, from the perspective of someone who senses a world beyond the one they were born into, if not a way to access it.

Throughout the first part of the show, this feeling of outsiderdom was nurtured. In “Disco 2000” he sang about being ignored by a childhood friend (“Your house was very small, with woodchip on the wall”). “Mis-Shapes” found him plotting revenge on those who would target him for dressing differently. Even at the age of 59, Cocker was totally believable, inhabiting all of his characters’ insecurities, defiant superiority and lurid sexual fantasies. Despite having attained a level of celebrity of which his younger self could only dream, he makes the plight of his misfits a rallying cry for others.

“Something Changed” signalled a shift in trajectory, dedicated to the memory of Steve Mackey, the former Pulp bass guitarist who died this year. And after a cathartic suite that included “Weeds” (“For anyone who was called a weed at school”), “Weeds II (Origin of the Species)” and a lot of dry ice, Cocker emerged like a butterfly from metamorphosis. “F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E” and “Sorted for E’s & Wizz” were ticked off like rites of passage from someone moving from Sheffield outsider to Britpop in-crowd. Finally, after climbing to the top of the Hollywood-style staircase on stage, he discovered that fame has a bitter aftertaste. A swelling “This Is Hardcore”, augmented by a haunting string section, was the night’s show-stopping moment.

In the midst of the melodrama, the rest of Pulp — Nick Banks (drums), Candida Doyle (keyboards) and Mark Webber (guitar) from the peak-period line-up plus three newer members — remained a study in unfussy excellence. Their wryly anthemic pop is the secret ingredient in Cocker’s lyrical master plan. The current shows could be the last the band ever play in the UK. Before they started, big screens on stage flashed the words, “This will be a night you remember for the rest of your life.”

Nostalgia undoubtedly played a huge part in the appeal of this Pulp reunion. But with its timely reminder that lack of opportunity can be as harmful as lack of money, this is a band whose work still makes a profound impression. “Have we forgotten to play something?” teased Cocker at the end, as the familiar throbbing intro of the band’s most famous song started up.

★★★★★

pulpofficial.co.uk