For some fucking stupid reason the idea that The National were popular made me think I’d like to go and have a look. Eh? Seems that day one was so good I’d forgotten that John and Jenny Punchclock have got such shit taste in music, because they don’t actually LIKE music, they like going out and getting drunk and dancing and meeting fellas and making love and doing the hoovering and shopping for MP3s. Anyway, maybe you’d like them if you like UGLY MIDDLE AGED OFFICE WORKERS WITH GREY HAIR GREY CLOTHES GREY VOICE GREY MIND AND GREY SOUL. As the world’s most unimaginative bass player (quite a feat given what most cunts pass off for bass “playing” 99 percent of the time) plays THE SAME INDIE LANDFILL BASSLINE OVER AND OVER AND OVER WHILST SOME FAT CITY BOY WITH THE SAME LACK OF STYLE CREAMS OFF THE PROFITS FROM YOUR GULLIBILITY THEN GOES HOME AND LISTENS TO (the infinitely superior) ROBERT PALMER. Fucking kill ’em. And yourself if you like them.



Mainly day two was shit. Not quite, but almost. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti actually sounded as strange and ancient as their records, Half Japanese were just fat, and that band from Sheffield… oh yeah, they were QUITE GOOD. There was a man near us that had obviously left his T-shirt in the washing machine a few days too long. We kept trying to dance away, but his smell kept re-appearing. A very Pulp detail.

They were QUITE GOOD. Quite good, as in perhaps the best pop group to ever escape from the UK. Russell was there but you couldn’t hear him. So was Cocker, but you could barely hear him, either. To be honest you could barely hear owt apart from Nick on the ones and twos and about sixteen billion people singing every word. I’m still reeling from missing Pulp at Glastonbury ’95, but between this and Cocker’s sublime festival appearance at Secret Garden 2009 I’m slowly coming to terms with it. Basically, I am very very very very happy that it is ON again, even if it’s just for cash or because collecting antique glass just ain’t as good as rock and roll. I bumped into Candida in the street last year, training to be a counsellor. Christ, imagine going to see a counsellor and it turns out to be Candida. What would you tell her???!

Anyway, LOOK, PULP ARE/WERE/WILL ALWAYS BE A M A Z I N G. You don’t need me to tell you that. If you don’t get it, you don’t like pop music.

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