The more I listen to Jarvis Cocker's solo work, the more I realize the man is a genius. I've always sided with Morrissey on such matters (I know there's a faux "running feud" between these two men in the British press) but I'm starting to think that Mr. Cocker is almost up to snuff with His Mopeyness. Where Moz insulates himself prior to being hurt and against any and all human interaction; Cocker's lyrics are the words of a man that at one time had been a joyous and free soul but in order to protect himself from the calamities of life, has started to retreat away from such comforts. Or, I may just hear the two all wrong and I'm projecting my shit on to them.
Anyway, Cocker's old band, Pulp, was the springboard for his witty lyricism and black English humor, delivered either with a dry affectation or with that over-the-top theatrics that opera divas have. This album is a chronicle of Cocker's descent; grappling with a serious cocaine addiction as well as the dissolution of a long-time relationship, the album has a darker tone than any of the previous five. Cocker assumes the role of a lecherous douchebag in a few of the songs, suffering from the fallout of trying to keeps himself on the cover of the British tabloids.
So, if things like porn (or this album cover), drugs and fame are bothersome to you, don't download this record...
