“This performance is an encore. An encore occurs, because the audience wants more. So, make some noise…”
During the introductory voiceover, Jarvis Cocker’s unmistakable thoughtful, measured Sheffield accent is soon overpowered by the roar of the crowd. Then a row of tube men pops up on the stage’s apron, skydancing with flailing arms to set the scene.
Opener Sorted For E’s & Wizz deals all of the nostalgic feels. When Cocker inserts “Mel-born” into the lyrics, punters collectively lose their shit. Disco 2000 follows, ushering in a whoosh of reminiscence. Cue our deafening singalong: “Let’s all wake up in the year 2000…” – remember when that year seemed futuristic? We’re all “fully grown” now, sure. Although many in attendance don’t feel like grownups yet. Pulp’s music exists where joy and melancholia collide. We’re only two songs in and already misty-eyed – help!
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Cocker tells us he went to the MESS (Melbourne Electronic Sound Studio) yesterday to record an album, together with guitarist/percussionist Jason Buckle, which will likely come out “in a few days time” – is he serious? Watch this space.
Spike Island – from Pulp’s exceptional latest album, 2025’s More (the band’s first full-length release in 24 years!) – is an instant classic, peppered with sci-fi synth swooshes that resound throughout the Bowl’s packed grassy hillside.
We’re treated to an ABBA cover, The Day Before You Came. Cocker says Pulp has never played this song live before, pointing out, “The band that wrote this song performed on this stage 49 years and two days ago.” Because he’s likely to “break into floods of tears”, Cocker admits it’s “a dangerous one for [him] to sing”. His sprechgesang delivery adds elegant gravitas to this wistful song.
Cocker has a debonair presence on stage. He fully surrenders while dancing, his body responding to every musical nuance. In silhouette, Cocker resembles Mr. Squiggle at times – much to our delight. At other times, his exaggerated gestures bring a conductor or spell-casting wizard to mind.
An image of The Limit – “Sheffield’s finest disco,” according to Cocker – graces the stage’s back screen. Cocker goes on to explain that this basement club provided a bass-heavy musical education, with songs “that you would feel in your body rather than something that played out in your head” on high rotation. The pulsating F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E. follows, building to a theatrical crescendo.
Emma Smith’s quivering violin parts elevate Farmers Market, which closes out with glorious vocal harmonies: “Ain’t it time we started feeling?” Atop cinematic beds of synth, This Is Hardcore’s plaintive piano melodies penetrate to the core.
“Feel free to sing along as long as you’re in tune,” Cocker encourages before Something’s Changed, which ushered in this current Pulp era. Cocker dedicates this one to the band’s late bassist, Steve Mackey, who passed away three years ago on March 2.
A rabble-rousing new song, Begging For Change – the latest single from War Child UK’s charity album, Help(2) – is up next.
Cocker reels off the Melbourne dates from Pulp’s first two Australian tours, both of which took place at Festival Hall – a perfect segue into Do You Remember The First Time?.
With its jaunty guitar lines, Babies – Pulp’s song about awkward-teen voyeurism – is pure perfection live. But it’s really all about Common People. This current nine-strong touring incarnation taps into a flow state and we pogo en masse, simultaneously belting out the lyrics: “And then dance and drink and screw/ ‘Cause there’s nothing else to do!” A goosebumps-on-goosebumps moment.
Due to this evening’s total lunar eclipse, we also scored an added bonus. While exiting this picturesque venue, the heartwarmed audience gets to admire a blood-red moon.
