Pulp at the OVO Hydro, Glasgow 07/06/25

"Help the aged / 'Cos one day you'll be older too / You might need someone who can pull you through"

A couple of weeks back, Sarah and I headed out on a road trip to Bonnie Scotland to see the peerless, the prestigious, the pervy pop purveyors known as Pulp. As the lyrics above foresaw, they're certainly more aged than when we first saw them way back in 1998, but then we all are. Luckily, Pulp are still utterly fantastic and still have the power to pull us through. So to speak.

When this tour was announced, I jumped at the chance to get tickets ( well, only jumping as far as my aged bones would allow etc etc ) as Pulp had been so fantastic in Manchester two years ago, and as Jarvis and co would say - we needed more. I couldn't get tickets for anywhere close but then the possibility of a Glasgow gig hoved into view and I thought why not? We've said for many years that we need to visit Scotland and this gig would give us the kick up the arse we need to head north of the border. Let the road trip commence!

After a night in the Lake District ( Penrith! ), we drove on up to Scotland The Brave and spent a couple of nights by the banks of beautiful Loch Lomond, before relocating to Glasgow for three nights for the gig, then spent a night in lovely Lancaster on the way back down. Phew! The trip was awesome in itself and well worth a future blog post. But, first the gig itself...

The OVO Hydro is a very impressive looking arena on the banks of the River Clyde, at Glasgow's former industrial area of Queen's Dock. We'd managed to get a room at a ( very ) budget hotel across the water, only about a 20-minute walk to the venue, so very handy. For once, we actually turned up well in time for the gig and made our way into the sold-out, 14,000 capacity Hydro and then up, up, UP to our precarious seats somewhere near the roof, just below the pigeons - I usually wouldn't go for a seated gig, but this was all I could get and, hey, it's Pulp.

A little later than the stated 8pm, a disembodied voice told us that this was an evening we would never forget, an encore, because we deserve more... then the band ( plus string section and extra musicians ) filed out onto the stage to a massive roar from the crowd - well, all the band except the main man Jarvis Cocker. As the sounds of new single Spike Island boomed out, the familiar and iconic Pulp cardboard cut-outs ( as seen on the cover of Different Class ) rose from the back of the stage. But - wait! - one of those cut-outs is moving: it's Jarvis!

Spike Island and second song Grown Ups set out the stall for the new songs: memories of the past, memories of looking forward ( then ), thoughts of looking backwards ( now ), all with a wounded melancholy, however bouncy the song. These are lyrics and themes that only a mature band can properly realise, and it's a sign of how confident today's Pulp are that the first half of the set was dominated by the new material. Jarvis was in fine voice ( as good as he's ever been in my opinion ) and his wry stage persona was a delight as ever - after Grown Ups he asked if any of us want to, er, grow up? The resounding "No!" from the Glasgow crowd was surely answer enough.
 

After an admittedly less confident new song, Slow Jam ( maybe not best suited to the live situation ), the band broke into the signature synth plonks that herald Sorted for Es & Wizz and the audience went ker-azy. I think the "Ooooh!" refrain from the crowd must have been heard all over Glasgow that night. This was swiftly followed by the none-more-anthemic Disco 2000 and the party mood was now irrepressible. Again, going back to the overarching theme of Pulp's return ( well, the way I see it, anyway ) this song of kids imagining themselves meeting up in that far-distant year of 2000 AD ( not the comic ) has since become an echo of an echo as we're now meeting up in the year 2025, when 2000 is just a fast-receding memory. Makes you think, doesn't it? Or not, who am I to say?

The moody, theatrical F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E was a change of pace, if still a bugger to type out, and then Help The Aged was played for ( apparently ) the first time since 2012.... and cue the quote at the top of this post. The first time we saw Pulp ( in a leisure centre in Hereford! ), they were touring the songs from the This Is Hardcore album - their post-fame comedown - and the tracks often came across as morose, but now I think the band have come to terms with the songs and the ups and downs of their career, and these songs now sound renewed. The epic title track itself may still pack a grim punch but now feels somehow victorious - the band made it through the disillusionment of celebrity, the wilderness years and the sad loss of Steve Mackey, but they're still here. And still doing new things. 

The newie with the very un-Pulp title of Farmer's Market is a semi-fictional account of Jarvis meeting his current wife and is probably the most nakedly emotional song the band have ever put out. And not naked in the sense of afternoon liaisons and jumping out of wardrobes, as in Britpop-era Pulp, but naked as in honest and exposed, with Jarvis baring his frailties and asking "Ain't it time we started living?" It's a beautiful song, reminding me very much of Dexy's, and this was a stellar rendition.

The first half of the set ended with the glorious tones of Sunrise and then it was Intermission Time. A selection of ice creams and drinks are available in the foyer...

The second set began with the OG band members appearing in front of the curtains and delivering a gorgeous take on Something Changed. Jarvis strapped on his twelve-string ( ooh, er! ) and sang wonderfully, as the group - shorn of extra musicians - reminded us of just how special they are. After an anxiety-ridden detour into The Fear, with the creepy inflatable bastards above wobbling over the crowd, it was ( mostly ) hits all the way. Acrylic Afternoons took us back to the sleazy, cusp-of-fame pre-Britpop Pulp, singing about pulling knickers down on pink quilted eiderdowns ( you never got such lyrics from Oasis, did you? ) and then the same era's Do You Remember The First Time? made the OVO explode, as 14,000 people bellowed the lyrics back at Cocker and co.

Jarvis peered through his specs at the crowd and remarked "I look around this place and I see a lot of... Mis-shapes, mistakes, misfits / raised on a diet of broken biscuits"  -  Thanks, Jarv! This ultimate outsider anthem was quickly followed by a newly-minted anthem, the Northern Soul-inspired Got To Have Love - with the augmented Pulp line-up's backing singers belting out some pitch-perfect Stax-type vocals. This was rousing, life-affirming stuff, surely one of the most danceable songs of the band's career and a joy to hear played live. After a glorious, wardrobe-jumping Babies, Jarvis said "It's time to go to the supermarket" - and, of course, that meant it was time for *the* ultimate Pulp song, the all-conquering Common People. A crowd-pleasing juggernaut of a song, it builds and builds, speeds up and up, witty and angry and endlessly singalong-able, with the most energising, er, climax - still sounding superb in this far off mid-point of the Twenties. A perfect ending to two cracking sets from the reinvigorated Sheffield songsters.

But that wasn't all, there had to be an encore. Of course. And this was a gorgeous, low-key rendition of new song A Sunset - complementing the first set's Sunrise, a beautifully restrained state-of-the-world address, trying to find some hope amongst all the chaos. Jarvis intoned "I'd like to teach the world to sing but I do not have a voice" but, of course he does, a fantastic voice. And it's also a reminder that we all have a voice and, in these crazy times, we have a duty to use that voice as best we can. What else can we do?

Even with a view from the nosebleed seats, Pulp were sublime on that warm evening in Glasgow. The old songs were magical and the new ones are instant classics. Pulp were everything we wanted and More.

Happy birthday, Jasper!

 

Our krazy kitty Jasper is 16 today! Happy birthday, you big ball of fluff and attitude - we love you!

Recent-ish gigs: The Wedding Present, The Manic Street Preachers & EMF

 

After a fairly slow start to the year, the gigs are beginning to pile up. And, what a pile-up! I'm going to start in chronological order ( almost heresy for me! ), with The Wedding Present at Stroud's semi-legendary Sub Rooms. I'd last seen "the boy Gedge" and his pals in November '24 ( who remembers that far off time before The Second Trumpocalypse? ) and I jumped at the chance to see them again so soon. But not into a swimming pool like the aforementioned singer in the poster above.

The Sub Rooms ( aka Subscription Rooms ) has become a much busier venue than it ever has been in the last couple of years, which is great for Stroud and for Gloucestershire in general. And they've sorted their sound issues out, too  -  I well remember having my ears absolutely shredded at a Buzzcocks gig there some years ago. The sound isn't necessarily quieter, but much more professional and less shrill, now almost on a par with Gloucester's Guildhall.

Unfortunately, we got there too late to see the support ( lone Goth guitarist Evy Frearson ), but managed to grab a good spot near the stage, surrounded by Stroud hipsters. We had a quick catch up with blogger extraordinaire David Rose, and then it was time for Leeds' finest indie guitar-manglers, The ( also semi-legendary in their own words ) Wedding Present . They kicked off with Two For The Road, the first of four automobile-referencing songs in the set ( maybe a reaction to the joys of touring life? ), before hitting us with guitar-pop classic A Million Miles. A great start to the set.

Gedge expressed surprise that The Wedding Present had never played in Stroud in their 40 or so years as a band, and asked if Stroud was posh or rough? Replies were varied because Stroud is actually a combination of both, although one person shouted out "It's been gentrified!" ( Reader, that was me. )

The band were, as ever, on top form, playing with a concentrated velocity and precision that many bands half their ( average ) age would struggle to match. The interplay between Gedge and guitarist Rachel was a joy to see, both clearly loving playing together, and both being fantastic musicians, for all of the main man's self-deprecation. In fact, all the band were fantastic - The Wedding Present are quickly becoming ( after all this time ) one of my fave live bands. The combination of Gedge's beautifully melancholic lyrics and the sheer sonic attack of the songs is a potent brew which makes for a dynamic spectacle when the band are hammering away at their instruments as if their lives depended on it. Phew! Rock 'n' roll, eh?

Mid-way through the set, the band pulled out two of their best songs, with two of their longest titles: You Should Always Keep In Touch With Your Friends and I Am Not Going To Fall On Love With You - indie-pop perfection. Another highlight was Rachel... the song, that is ( although the real Rachel is always a highlight ) ... a particularly lovely love song. I love it. ( That's a lot of love. ) This was immediately followed by the propulsive, punk-y Flying Saucer, which prompted a mass mosh outbreak. ( Well, it was about six people but they were properly going for it. )

And the band kept up the energy levels as they hit the home stretch with such WP classics as break-up saga Nobody's Twisting Your Arm, a singalong Kennedy ( "Too much apple pie!" ) and the gorgeous, tear-jerking  Favourite Dress. As ever, no encores, but a final thrash through Brassneck left everyone happy, as Gedge promised to come back to Stroud sometime in the next 40 years. That's a date. I mean, even if I'm just a head in a jar by that point, I'll get somebody to wheel my fishtank into the Sub Rooms for more Wedding Present greatness.

#Manics #Manchester #May

There I go, hash-tagging again. It's a compulsion. Anyway, early May did indeed see Sarah and me heading to Manchester to see The Manic Street Preachers. I'd been blown away by their gig at Cardiff Castle last year, so happily jumped on the pre-sale for their latest album, Critical Thinking, which also gave the punters first crack at 2025 tour tickets. Unfortunately, I couldn't get tix for Bristol Beacon or Wolverhampton ( the two closest venues to us ) so I went for the first of their two Manc dates - we'd had such a great time in Manchester when we saw Pulp two years ago and were glad for the chance to Hit The North again...

We travelled up from the Shire the day before, so had a bit of  time to explore the lovely city of Manchesterford ( I think that's right ) and stopped in a handy Travelodge only a 10-minute walk from the venue. And what a venue - the famous Manchester Apollo is a gorgeous Art Deco building, deceptively large on the inside, and with a sloping floor which allows people good views of the stage ( unless they're extra short like Sarah! ) - here's a quick snapshot of the well-appointed interior:

Typically for us, we missed the support band, Honeyglaze, who I'd hoped to catch ( boo! ) - maybe another time? After a bit of a wait, an industrial/dance remix of recent single Critical Thinking pounded out of the PA, and then the band appeared to mass cheers from the Manchester Massive. James Dean Bradfield said "Hello, we're the Manic Street Preachers from Wales" ( talk about stating the bleeding obvious, lol ) and they were off and running - starting with the cheerfully wistful Decline And Fall and then into old favourite Enola/Alone. Two cracking songs to set out their stall...

As the screen above the band announced "I am a relic" ( harsh but fair ) we all knew that we were in for a treat in the form of early classic La Tristesse Durera ( Scream To A Sigh ), whose wounded melancholy gave way to the poppier Brushstrokes Of Reunion from the new album, and a huge singalong for You Stole The Sun From My Heart. And it was certainly a loud audience: at times I could barely hear James over the baying of the crowd, but it all added to the communal atmosphere.

As a touring band, the Manics are a five-piece nowadays, with two additional musicians handling backup guitar and keyboards, but they slimmed down for a couple of songs, with the original trio tackling some of the late Richie Edwards' thornier songs. The crowd was back in full voice for a majestic Motorcycle Emptiness, followed by the old-but-new-to-my-ears Let Robeson Sing, and a chance for Nicky Wire to handle vocals with the full-band version of Critical Thinking. It has to be said that Nicky hasn't got the greatest singing voice, but this lacerating attack on modern attitudes certainly suits his laconic, none-more-Welsh delivery.

With the rest of the band leaving the stage ( "Don't worry, they'll be back" ), James sang a few solo, acoustic numbers, including an apparently never before attempted stripped down version of Holy Bible anthem P.C.P - James said we were lucky because we could see the torrent of lyrics on the screen behind him, while he had to remember them all. Luckily, he did a fantastic job, and his still-beautiful voice rang out around the venue, sounding every bit as powerful and compelling as back in the day.

To be honest, I thought this acoustic section, as impressive as it was, robbed the set of its momentum, but the band were back on track with a vicious Sleepflower and a heartfelt Your Love Alone Is Not Enough. During all this there was some banter between James, Nicky and the crowd about football, most of which went over my head ( like a football ha ha ), and some love given to Manchester for its place in the Manics' career - mentions of favourite Manc gigs / venues and snippets of iconic Manchester tunes from the likes of the Happy Mondays, Buzzcocks etc. Band introductions were handed out during the intro to International Blue, with Nicky touching on the plight of ageing rockers, saying James has "poetry in his voice and cortisone in his knee."

Nicky dedicated a ferocious Motown Junk to "our beautiful boy, Richey Edwards" and the set closed with the epic, and sadly permanently relevant, If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next.

It had been a wonderful gig in a very cool venue, one we'll definitely have to return to at some point. And it gave us a chance to hang out in a warm and sunny Manchester for a few days. I know we're always being told it's grim oop North but we've now had two trips to Manc land in glorious weather - the sun shines on the righteous, as they say.

Back to the Shire for the last gig in this seemingly-endless roundup of rock 'n' roll rowdiness, and Gloucester's home-grown heroes, those rave granddads E.M.F ( Ecstasy Mother Fuckers )

And back to Stroud's Sub Rooms yet again. It really is becoming, after all this time, one of my favourite venues. For once we got there at a reasonable time and met up with old friend Glenn ( of Borrowed Time fame ) and went inside for a natter. We managed to catch support act Scant Regard, a one-man surf-punk guitar gangster who had a very impressive line in catchy, snarly songs and gnarly instrumentals, all with a too-kool-for-school video backdrop. At one point he said "This next one is an old German folk song. I didn't write it" - and then played a twangy assault on Kraftwerk's The Model - great fun!

And speaking of fun, here's EMF! The Forest Posse were here to party like it was 1989 all over again. Again.

Like last year's gig at The Steam & Whistle in Cheltenham, this was another ( nearly ) hometown show for the rave-rock legends and was a day-glo, hands-in-the-air throwdown from minute one.

Newer songs like The Day The Music Died and Sister Sandinista fitted in effortlessly with old classics like I Believe, It's You and Lies. The crowd went nuts from the very start and Sarah, Glenn and I headed down the front of the sell-out crowd to throw shapes in the church of indie-dance. The heartfelt homage to the rave dayz, Reach For The Lasers, prompted us to get our glow-sticks out and wave them in the air like we just don't care. Frontman James Atkins again read out a list of era-defining DJS ( "Andy Weatherall! Andy Weatherall!" ) and I managed to grab a copy of the list after the gig.

The band were on top form and, without the technical difficulties of the Cheltenham gig, played an absolute blinder. My favourite song of theirs, Children, was a sweaty, crowd-pleasing highlight of the set and was a total banger.

They gave some love for their home town of Cinderford, as the town crier again put in an appearance, in full regalia, and told us they will be headlining a free festival there in July. One for the diary. Stroud itself also got a mention as they reminisced about the old venues and gigs of the '80s, such as the long-gone and infamous Marshall Rooms. Ian Dench's old band, the Doors-imitating Apple Mosaic, once won a battle of the bands there and the win was rumoured to have been a total fix. ( Or so we thought back in the day. Yes, I was there. ) Strangely enough, this didn't get a mention ( lol )

But, enough about old news: EMF today are ( here it comes ) Unbelievable! Finishing the set with that rave classic, their inspired covers of I'm A Believer & Just Can't Get Enough, and EMF itself, the band finished on a massive ( legal ) high, and left us "sensible ravers" to pick up the pieces of an awesome night. Sarah, Glenn and I headed to the local Wetherspoons to drink tap water (!) because we were so darned hot - definitely the sign of a great gig! ( Okay, Glenn may have had a beer... )

And that's it for this typically-overdue roundup. Next gig: Pulp in Glasgow a week from now!

#Avengers #Spider-Man #Comics

Did the hashtags get your #attention? Of course, it's just another desperate attempt by me to get people to read this blog. Sorry... #blog. Do hashtags even work here on Blogger? Are they migrating over here, now that the House of Hashtags ( the site formerly known as Twitter ) is being run into the ground by a power-mad tech bro' ? Who knows, certainly not me. But I digress... let's talk #comics. ( There I go again. )

I picked up these beauties a couple of weeks ago in Worcester's wonderful Out Of This World. It was only my second visit to this Aladdin's Cave of Comics but it's fast becoming a favourite. The owner, Gary, is a top bloke - friendly, knowledgeable and very fair in his pricing of #comics etc. We had a lovely chat about all kinds of Bronze and Silver Age comics, and I even remembered to buy a few.

 Amazing Spider-Man no. 54 ( Nov 1967 )

This issue is from the imperial phase of the Lee / Romita partnership: all the requisite elements are here from the soapy goings on of the supporting cast, to the vile villain ( Doc Ock of course ), to Peter Parker in full on neurotic mode. The story revolves around Aunt May's questionable decision to take on a certain Dr. Otto Octavius as a lodger. What could go wrong? As you can see below, quite a lot...

This is the second issue of a four-part Spidey / Ock slug-fest which leads into the classic story where Spidey loses his memory and unwittingly teams up with the tentacled terrorist. Romita's artwork is lush as always, although the inking of Mickey Demeo ( aka Mike Esposito ) is sometimes dull. The girls ( Gwen, Mary Jane and Aunt May ) all look amazing, though.

Also in this issue we see the first meeting between Peter and Joe "Robbie" Robertson, soon to become a familiar character in the Spidey strip and one of the first prominent Black characters in Marvel comics. And then Aunt May has one of her turns. ( Don't worry - she'll be alright. )

The Avengers no. 100 ( June 1972 )

Moving on from our friendly neighbourhood web-spinner, it's time to meet those #Mighty #Avengers in their equally Mighty 100th Issue - in fact, the mightiest of all as the cover proclaims. This is an issue I've long wanted but always found too expensive before. This copy is slightly worse for wear, being only a G+, but the Out Of This World price was right, so I had to pick it up.

The story finds those avengerers heeding a summons from the Black Knight to travel to the legendary city of Olympus for an epic battle with Ares, God of War, his ally The Enchantress, and various and sundry mythical creatures. The script, by Rascally Roy Thomas, is the purplest of prose, but the artwork is ( mostly ) wonderful, coming from the pulsatin' pencil of Barry Windsor-Smith. ( Don't forget the "Windsor", or Barry gets upset. Just ask Pete Doree. ) I say "mostly" because Bazza's work suffers from a round robin of inkers here. The early pages inked by BWS himself ( see above ) are lovely, and there's plenty of good stuff here from Joe Sinnott and Syd Shores, but Barry's style is often blanded out by the other two inkers. But, never mind, it's all fun stuff and I'm glad to finally own a copy.

Avengers no. 131 ( January 1974 )

Another issue of T'Avengers, seemingly cashing in on the then-current Kung Fu craze, if this splash page is anything to go by. That mysterious maid Mantis kicks some back street mugger in the jaw ( "Klok!" ), while the ad on the facing page is trying to flog the discerning reader a "revolutionary new audiovisual home study course in dynamic Kung Fu & Karate" - well, who could refuse? ( Interestingly, the small illustration accompanying this ad looks like it was produced by "Judo" Jim Starlin, but I could be completely wrong on that score. )

This issue is part of the ongoing Celestial Madonna epic, a multi-part story including Immortus, the Kree, the 1940s Human Torch and his relationship to the Vision, the recently deceased Swordsman, the terrorist group called the Zodiac, Uncle Tom Cobbley and all. And, this being a time-travel yarn, the Avengers' greatest foe #Elon Musk Kang the Conqueror turns up. Mission statement below:

( Talk about yer power-mad tech bro's  - I'll leave it up to you, Dear Reader, to decide if Muskrat is cosplaying Immortus or Kang here. )

Anyway, this is a fine, dialogue-heavy issue ( if probably mind-boggling to any new readers ) with the great Steve Engelhart delving into the Vision / Wanda / Mantis love triangle, while also delivering some requisite action scenes and setting up the convoluted plot to come. There's some un-showy but lovely artwork from the team of ol' reliable Sal Buscema and new-to-Marvel Joe Staton, fresh from his run on Charlton's E-Man. One of the main draws for me was the cover for this issue: I first glimpsed it in one of  the earliest issues of Marvel's in-house fan magazine FOOM I acquired as a kid ( no.7, fact fans! ), and all the covers featured in those issues were indelibly burned into my brain, and now have an almost-totemic status. I've always meant to find those specific comics but haven't really pursued it - maybe I should start now.

All in all, a nice little haul from Out Of This World, and I'm sure to go back there for more delights.

( If not more #hashtags. )