Sturdy - Truth and Beauty

Copyright 2003 Omnibus Press
This edition 2009 Omnibus Press
(A Division of Music Sales Limited, 14-15 Berners Street, London, W1T 3LJ)

ISBN: 978-0-85712-103-5

The Author hereby asserts his/her right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with sections 77 to 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage or retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, expect by a reviewer who may quote brief passages.

Every effort has been made to trace the copyright holders of the photographs in this book, but one or two were unreachable. We would be grateful if the photographers concerned would contact us.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Visit Omnibus Press on the web at www.omnibuspress.com

For all your musical needs including instruments, sheet music and accessories, visit www.musicroom.com

For on-demand sheet music straight to your home printer, visit www.sheetmusicdirect.com

On the evening of June 24, 1995, I was sitting in my parents living room, listening to a live radio broadcast of Pulp playing at Glastonbury. Its almost eight years ago now, but it could have been yesterday.

Id already been a fan of Pulp for a while. Of course I had it was 1995, after all, and loving Pulp was mandatory. It was just what you did. The year before, my friend Ian had given me tapes of Intro and His N Hers and, despite my initial reluctance, I was quickly seduced by Jarvis Cockers intensely sleazy, intelligent, nasty, funny, poignant lyrics, and the bands intriguingly atmospheric twist on pop music. In the months that followed, things had gradually become more exciting, as Cocker infiltrated his way into mainstream pop consciousness in a way that singers in indie bands simply didnt do: with TV moments like the I HATE WET WET WET sign on Top Of The Pops and his triumphant performance on Pop Quiz, there seemed to be something vaguely heroic about Jarvis ascent. He was the kind of person youd always wished was a pop star but never was, and as he rose, seemingly effortlessly, from indie obscurity to legitimate celebrity (somehow without losing any credibility on the way), there was a feeling that this wasnt just someones career path you were watching: he was doing it on our behalf as well. Its impossible to explain, but at their greatest moments (and theres been a few), Pulp seemed to have the uncanny ability of making us feel as if we were up there with them.

Which brings us to 1995. The middle of a glorious summer, with Pulp, having only very recently become absolutely enormous with Common People, doing their biggest concert ever, as last-minute replacement for another group, in front of 100,000 people all of whom seemed to be going absolutely mental.

Usually when bands play gigs of this size, a retrospective Greatest Hits-type set is to be expected. At this point, Pulp had only had one real hit, so this wasnt an option: instead, amongst the scattering of material from the last couple of albums, we got a load of brand-new, barely heard songs that were presumably going to feature on the next record amongst them Monday Morning, Underwear, Sorted For Es & Wizz, and one that we later found out was called Disco 2000. And again, rather than the usual confused reaction that new songs get from big audiences, they seemed to be greeted as old favourites: never has the phrase instant classic seemed more appropriate. It was one of those rare times in music that brings you completely into the present: it wasnt something that needed comparing to anything that had gone before, it wasnt something that only became good in retrospect, it wasnt something that made you look forward to what was going to happen next. It was simply now and it didnt make any difference whether you were onstage at Glastonbury, standingin the crowd watching, or listening to the radio on your own in a living room somewhere in North Yorkshire: all you could do was revel in the moment.

Jarvis chat between the songs simply added to the sense that here and now was the best time and place we could possibly be. This is a good thing thats happening here, us all in this place, he deadpanned early in the concert (youll be unsurprised to hear that Ive still got the tape). And do you know whats happening in the outside world?

No! replied the audience.

And do you care?

NO!!!

When you go home on Monday morning, youre going to go home to a different world. But were not thinking about that now because this is Saturday night, and the furthest thing from our minds is Monday morning. But this song is called Monday Morning

The best moment came a little later on. All right, this is the last new song were playing tonight. This is a song about you know if you grow up in a town, and everybody else wears a white shirt when they go out on a Friday night, with short sleeves, and maybe a moustache if youre a bloke, or if youre a girl, stilettos. And when you see them in town, theres a pack of about 10 of them, and they laugh at you because they think that youre the weird one, you know. [Enormous, prolonged cheer] And this is about how we are going to have our revenge on them and its called Mis-Shapes.

Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits, the song began, raised on a diet of broken biscuits, oh. We dont look the same as you, and we dont do the things you do, but we live round here too oh baby. Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits wed like to go to town but we cant risk it, oh. Cos they just want to keep us out, you could end up with a boot in your mouth, just for standing out, oh really. Brothers, sisters, cant you see? The futures owned by you and me. There wont be fighting in the streets they think theyve got us beat but revenge is gonna be so sweet

All right. As if things hadnt been triumphant enough already, this seemed to be pretty much sealing it. And then the chorus: Were making amove, were making it now, were coming out of the sidelines. Just put your hands up, its a raid. We want your homes, we want your lives, we want the things you wont allow us. We wont use guns, we wont use bombs, well use the one thing weve got more of; thats our minds.

The song continued in the same vein for another couple of verses and choruses, but that was really enough. Thats one thing you cant buy, remarked Jarvis afterwards. Something up here. You can go to anybody, you can have plastic surgery for your face, but you cant shove anything inside your head thats going to make any difference at all. So: we rule. So there. You and whose army?

All right. Again, this was the kind of thing that bands simply didnt sing about. The fact that it was happening seemed miraculous: this was a song that essentially expressed feelings of bitterness about being marginalised and ridiculed, and yet it felt celebratory and universal even if you hadnt specifically been on the receiving end of the kind of small-town violence that the song was inspired by (which I certainly hadnt). It was about something bigger than that. The massive audience response said it all it wasnt even just about me. It was about us. All of us. Whoever that meant.

There was only one way for the concert to end. If you want something to happen enough, then it actually will happen, OK? Jarvis told the audience. Massive cheers. And I believe that. In fact, thats why were stood on this stage after 15 years cos we wanted it to happen, you know what I mean? Massive cheers. So, if a lanky get like me can do it, and us lot, then you can do it too. All right? So on that positive note, this is the last song, we cant play anymore after this. This is Common People.