"An ever-intriguing writer."
"A genuine talent."



Do You Remember Britpop?

I've spent most of the day beneath the bedsheets;
trying to recover from a mild virus of some kind.
And now? Well, now I can't sleep for toffee.
Trawling through the multifarious digital options
on my remote, I happen upon an hour-long documentary
about the making of Pulp's anthemic 'Common People'.
Was that really over 10 years ago?
Have they really gathered together various "experts"
to talk with sincerity about the reasons behind
its lasting impact on the musical landscape?
Jarvis Cocker is sat, all alone, at a booth
in the New Piccadilly Cafe on London's Denman Street.
His hair is somewhat longer these days, but he's
still buying the bulk of his clothes second-hand.
He smokes a cigaratte whilst they show clips
of Pulp headlining the Glastonbury festival in 1995.
They show footage of Jarvis revisiting the
Town House recording studio and Saint Martin's College
and the band's old rehearsal rooms situated above a pottery.
There are shots of Sheffield for good measure.
And even some old family home-movies.
If you look closely at Pedro Romhanyi's iconic video
for 'Common People', you might notice a buxom girl
riding a chopper bike in the background. Her name is Julie.
And she doesn't look at the camera throughout.
Julie did the wardrobe on that video, aswell
as on several other Pulp videos of the period,
including 'Lipgloss' - in which she also appears,
wearing a cheap blonde wig and a babydoll négligé.
Julie also did the wardrobe on the video for Blur's
equally anthemic 'Parklife'. Just for good measure.
Jarvis, reputedly, wrote the song 'Acrylic Afternoons' about her.
It's a song which appears on Pulp's 1994 long-player 'His 'N Hers'.
I happened to be passing Julie's house on the bus last week.
It was a warm and sunny day in the Wormwood Scrubs area;
reminiscent of that time we first kissed
over the embers of a disposable barbeque.
I thought about getting off the bus a few stops early,
walking up to her front-door, ringing the bell
and asking her if she ever thought about me at all.
Y'know? In that way I sometimes find myself thinking about her.
But I was running late for an appointment.
The wheels on the bus kept on going. Round and round.
To be honest, I'm not sure I'd remember the house number now.
Though I'm pretty sure I'd still be able to recognise the wallpaper.

Video for 'Lipgloss' by Pulp

Lyrics to 'Acrylic Afternoons' by Pulp

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