Different Class

Different Class has a gift for sounding like Britpop while also making most Britpop sound rubbish in comparison. The soaring choruses, the la la las, the acute class consciousness — all the hallmarks are there, and they’re all the better for being delivered by Jarvis Cocker. His offbeat lyricism sits so well throughout that it’s easy to forget how impressive it is that it works at all. Jangling pop-rock probably isn’t the natural bedfellow of spoken-word musings on knickers and trust fund babies, but you wouldn’t know it listening to Different Class.

Pulp pushed the limits of just how dry pop could be. At the best of times it’s hard to tell if you’re in on the joke or being strung along for the ride. It’s wicked fun, but I wonder if that’s also why I can’t get into the album beyond a certain point. This is some of the best — possibly the best — music Britpop has to offer, but that’s still like being the most dignified person at a dog show. Even in pushing beyond the boundaries of its genre, Different Class betrays its own limitations. Anthems like “Common People” and “Disco Whatever” are iconic; the album as a whole is entertaining. By the time it’s over I’m just about burnt out by the spectacle put on. It gets into such a rollicking flow that it’s a smidge deflating when it fails to come to a head.

That said, there’s no denying this is essential pop listening, a testament to the unbridled power of weird with a good mix. It’s a wry, saucy lynchpin of ‘90s culture. While Modern Life is Rubbish was British in a way that made me want to apologise to non-Brits and the North, Different Class owes no apologies to anyone. Pulp got their right to be different and used it. Cocker runs the show, the band run riot, and I’ve run out of things to say. It’s true high common art.