'why?' i ask you, in a voice so dripping with amusement that you can tell that i knew you were going to say that, and i know exactly what youre going to say next.
'well,' you begin with a bit of contempt, 'different class has "common people," "disco 2000," and all those other great songs!'
i chuckle in a knowing manner. 'do you really think thats enough to make it their best work??'
'shouldnt it be?' you are now quite upset that im acting like such a pretentious bastard. you glare at me to show your displeasure.
'no.' i say this curtly, with a brisk shake of the head. then pause.
'are you sure you want to know?' i ask with a smug grin. 'you seemed quite happy in your ignorance.'
you now wish that looks could, in reality, kill, because you are trying to give me one that would make my head fall off. 'i would *love* to know,' you say with as much sarcasm as you can muster.
'right, then!' i say in a manner which implys that ive been waiting for this moment since we began the dialogue.
you cross your arms and glare at me as i begin. . .
you see, his 'n' hers is a bridge album, between pulp's largely ignored early work and the popular records. in case you dont know what bridge albums, they are records that show that past of the band in question, whilst giving a strong indication of said band's musical future.
pulps previous records were all generally vicious, self indulgent, and saturated in frustration (not to say that they are in any way 'bad,' or 'not good,' even. they are all quite well done, in fact). his 'n' hers, on the other hand, is merely tense, (though 'tense' is easily an understatement) and and foreshadows the accessible pop of the following album. check out 'acrylic afternoons:'
the track opens with a chilling, echoed chorus of children, the breaks into a steccato plinking, followed by a thick bass and steady beat, which continue throughout the song. despite the crescendos and subsequent piano movements of the song, the droning beat remains the same, leading the listener directly into jarvis's waiting hands, as he tells his lascivious story. . . and as the album plays on, it only gets worse.
take 'shes a lady' and 'pink glove.' both tracks seem designed to slowly and continually remove the breath of the listener, whilst replacing his heartbeat with the beat of the song. and again, javis' story removes the listener from his current location, and places him in the heart of something so much dirtier. . .
if you thought the singles off his 'n' hers would be any more accessible, you would only be a little bit right.
when one listens critically to 'babies,' one realises that the song, like its narrator, tries to pass itself of as innocent. dont let it fool you!! that innocent guise is there just to get you believing that you can just be a listener this time, that you wont become involved with the song on a personal level. to reiterate (which means say the same thing again), its a fat load of lies. when jarvis says, 'but soon i wanted more,' he isnt just narrating, that marks the point in the song when the mask begins to fall off; the lyrics become more lewd and the music more forceful. the temporary lulls after this point in the song are only there re-relax you, lead you into a false sence of security, so that when the chorus pick up you are swept away by it, and by then, theres nothing you can do about it.
'lipgloss' is, if anything sinister. the sound of jarvis' vocals give one the feeling that, oh, yeah, its difficult, oh, yeah, youre so miserable, oh yeah, you are so, so lost, an oh, no. . . i dont care, no, i dont care at all. . . the seventies-esque synthesiser makes one dizzy, the the guitars have no remorse, and the percussion moves the song along with conviction.
'do you remember the first time?' the most popular track, is almost as oppressive as the aforementioned tracks, though the chorus does give a slight sence of release. that feeling of satisfaction is, however, only temporary. there is a distinct pattern to this song: anxious, throbbing, low vocals bit, more anxious, richer throbbing, slightly less low vocals bit, climax-like chorus. repeat, only faster with impossible level of anxiousness. make the listeners head explode by repeating it, only faster and *more* anxiously. say, 'oh, yeah, you want to go go home,' end the song, then clean up bits of the listener's head.
his 'n' hers is not just a collection of songs, but an experience. this record pulls from the inside and pushes from above. the listener feels tighter and tighter as the tracks progress, constantly waiting for a release that will not come.
you stare at me, your mouth hanging open, completely speechless.
'i know,' i say, and pat your shoulder reassuringly. 'i know.'
take me back to
the beginning!!
