![]() But not so far, maybe, as the distance between the Jarvis Cocker who, as a child, was forced into lederhosen on a run-down council estate, who, as a twentysomething outsider, did himself serious injury as he tried to impress a girl, to the consummate performer who took on Glastonbury and won and who pivots as a supreme sex symbol on Top of the Pops. It’s a long way from the run-down shacks of Memphis to the glitz of Las Vegas. ![]() Not since Elvis hit supernova has a performer been – on the face of it – so unprepared for the consequences of his fame. The savage wit, the finest lyricist of his generation, the master of Pulp’s album of 1995, the brilliant Different Class.īut there are no precedents for Jarvis. The Roxy Music fan who transformed his own perfect group from hopeful Peel session wannabes to generation-soundtracking, futuristic, postmodern ironic disco darlings. The class warrior who rose out of an adolescence of beatings, put-downs and dismissals to pen his own triumph and serialise his revenge, with damning ripostes such as Common People, Mis-Shapes and I Spy. The gawky, bespectacled, anorak’d, sexually and personally incompetent Sheffield nerd who dreamed and designed his own superstardom, emphasising his weaknesses and turning them into strengths. Why? Precisely because he is Jarvis Cocker, the fifth most famous man in Britain and, along with Noel Gallagher, the most important man in pop. Meanwhile, over at the Sun, the pop page carries pictures of Cocker’s Hillman Imp, and questions why a star of Jarvis’ stature and probable wealth should drive such a dodgy, rickety old motor.
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