Cocker mad as hell on good album
Published April 17, 2007
On July 2, 2005, Bono and Bob Geldof attempted to rally the world against poverty at the Live 8 benefit concert. Shortly after the concert, Jarvis Cocker, the former frontman for British indie-rock favorites Pulp, wrote "Running the World." The song is the first single for his first solo album, Jarvis.
On the sometimes-rocking, sometimes-plodding Jarvis, Cocker returns with a vengeance: pissed-off, unabashed and political-correctness be damned.
His orchestral, poppy and bitingly satirical tracks put the listener under a trance-like sonic arrest, with Cocker taking no prisoners.
On "Running the World," Cocker fuels the sense of satire and contrast on the track between his biting lyrics ("In theory, I respect your right to exist/ But I'll kill you if you move in next to me") and subtle, delicate pop instrumentation. The Billy Joel-esque classic pop piano and breathy harmonies on the chorus make the track seem almost like a radio sing-a-long as opposed to embittered commentary. The result, for all its crudeness, is funny on several levels, and a rather good single.
"From Auschwitz to Ipswich" works in a similar manner, evoking the placid, swaying folk-pop of the 1960s.
It's a mellow sing-a-long with uncomfortably deadpan lyrics about the fall of civilization from an explosion of cultural tensions.
Perhaps the most well-executed — and therefore unsettling — of these contrasts can be found on "I Will Kill Again."
With its delicate piano and demure vocals, this is Cocker sneering and spitting on a "real nice guy": the acoustic guitar-playing sensitive type. This song is John Lennon's "Imagine" gagged, bound and held at gunpoint, transitioning between a seemingly insincere idealism and Cocker's eerie, grave ultimatum: "And don't believe me/ If I claim to be your friend/ 'Cause given half the chance/ I know that I will kill again."
Occasionally, Cocker is not as concerned with contrast, creating a sound that is as in-your-face and brash as his lyrics.
The rollicking dance-pop of "Fat Children" sounds like it could be straight out of an '80s new wave club, a background to Cocker's shouted chorus of "Fat children took my life."
"Disney Time," a sorrowful commentary about family life heavy with ponderous, menacing harmonies and weeping violins, is a bitter dirge that sounds, at times, like the darkly sinister antagonists of children's stories.
The album's standard pop tracks hearken back to Cocker's Pulp years, and his craft as a musician shines through.
The galumphing rhythm and jangling guitars on "Don't Let Him Waste Your Time," a song Cocker originally wrote for Nancy Sinatra, are at times reminiscent of Elvis Costello and make for a great pop song. It's definitely more accessible than much of the more commentary-charged tracks on the album.
The church bells and soul harmonies on "Black Magic" contribute to the bouncy, post-punk fun of the track, and Cocker puts rock-star caliber power behind the punchy, delightfully simple chorus. If listened to loud enough, one can almost envision Cocker on the stage or in the studio, bucking his shoulders and throwing himself into the music, which is something so goofy in stark contrast to a rather morose album.
Cocker is a man of many moods, including bitter, morose, upset, angry and irate.
On Jarvis, he skillfully combines biting lyrics with fitting instrumentation for a well-crafted, often funny and often deeply unsettling album. Not since Morrissey has being moody been this much fun.