I’ve come to realise that I write in this blog when I am feeling melancholic. I approach this site like a listening booth or confessional from THX1138. Speaking as a member of Gen X (which will be remembered as the cowlick of social history), the music of Pulp was probably the last band I truly devoured as an anthem for my generation or more accurately, the sub-culture I best identified with. Jarvis Cocker, probably the coolest man in the Brit-Pop scene, sang about the drama of the everyday and the awkward side of desire while making cheeky crassness and artform. But it was something about the sound of their music that pulled you into the past while defying nostalgia and empty sentimentality. It’s rare today to listen to a pop band that drips with such rich irony and to do it with such style. As we gets older, we are defined by more things around ourselves than the music we listen to or the clothes we wear. We now have responsibilities, a greater archive of memories and a driver’s license. However, listening to this music tonight, it makes me miss a time when a song could be everything to you, or that a sound could elevate you above the hum drum of the moment.