Jarvis

We Say...

Review by J. Edward Keyes

It's been twelve years since former Pulp frontman Jarvis Cocker encouraged bookish lonelyhearts to take down the hooligans with the power of their intellect, and if his first solo record is to be believed, that revolution ended in failure. "If you thought things had changed, friend, you'd better think again," he croons in Jarvis's final moments. "Cunts are still running the world." It's classic Cocker, the kind of acrid ballad of surrender where the protagonist goes down with a white flag tied around an upraised middle finger.

Musically, Cocker seems concerned with creating a classic. Whether miming a doo-wop vocal flourish in "Tonite" or flat-out stealing "Crimson & Clover" for "Black Magic," Cocker writes the kind of songs that used to come on 45s, pitting easy pop melodies against Cinemascope arrangements. He uncorks a honey of a love song with "Baby's Coming Back to Me," a pie-eyed falling-back-in-love ballad that implies a crescendo without ever actually delivering one. Cocker wrote the song for Nancy Sinatra, and you can tell. It has the same sparkle and glow as "Sugar Town," the 1967 hit that Lee Hazlewood wrote for her, but Cocker undercuts the song with sarcasm, overstating his premise ("The sun is shining/ and peace broke out in the world") to cast the tiniest shadow across his sentiment.

At the end of the day, though, it's all about the assholes, and at times Cocker seems too bored or beat-up to even bother putting up resistance. If anything, it sounds as if he's beginning to spot his own reflection in his enemy's beer-bloated face. "Don't believe me if I claim to be your friend," Cocker sings sorrowfully, "Because given half the chance, I know that I will kill again." For a second it seems like the malcontent poet has finally traded his pen for a sword, and is grudgingly taking his place among the cunts. So much the better, perhaps — we all know where they end up.