Somewhere in darkest, deepest East London, the streets outside the Troxy spilled-over with Cocker-ites. You could spot the locals in the next-door pub a mile off. And you smiled politely...Inside, the venue - usually home to cage-fighting - we bounced across the plush carpets, through the art-deco room towards the neon 'bar' sign. A bottle of red wine under the arm we headed to the front.
A suited Jarvis Cocker took to the stage with a cane, raised it like a snooker cue and declared, 'He pots the black.' Launching into a small routine before the opening track, the wirey Yorkshireman is funnier that most stand-ups. More compelling than a million frontmen. Eventually, the 'Pilchard', kicks things off, musically. Though an instrumental the crowd were transfixed by the singer: throwing legendary Cocker-shapes all over the stage. Being Iceland's national day, there was a small quiz with prizes after the opening song.
The set was 'Further Complications'-heavy. With Jarvis transforming into a matador for one track, collecting bras thrown to the stage for another. Seriously. And explaining his prejudice towards the saxophone for the Batman inspired 'Homewrecker!'.
I was surprised to find a huge toilet queue and bog dwellers at Troxy. The name of the venue confused Jarvis. 'We're playing the Trocodero?' 'Do you mean the Roxy?' Thinking someone was northerizing the name of the Lime House location. 'We're
playing at t'Roxy'.The second encore included 'Don't Let Him Waste Your Time'. To the local rag reviewer who said he didn't play it, stick around next time, 'gig reviewer.'
The third encore, do you get better VFM?, crowned the night with the wonderful euro-titled 'You're In My Eyes (Discosong)'. A track he introduced, refering to t'Roxy's (doesn't work) glitterball and likening the effect to floater you get in your eyes: they're bits of dead skin, he told us. So I learnt something too.
More Pulp songs wouldn't go a miss. Why do artists insist on being so stuck-up about their back-catalogue? But the performace was, as always, on cue. (Or some other snooker pun, you see...)
Songkick the gig here >
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