There will never be a finer anthem for the working-class woes of explaining struggles to those without them than Common People. Pulp hit a stroke of good fortune with the singles rattled out before the release of Different Class way back when, and hearing the indie wonder live, Jarvis Cocker belting out the need to experience all the wonders of the every day we write off as dull, is a life-affirming moment. Some will never live like common people, and the traipse through supermarkets and clubs on this perfectly paced piece of pop shows it. A great divide. Common People does not set out to bridge it closer together but to highlight the distance in living, both quality and whereabouts. Those roach-riddled flats, the rising damp downstairs at the back door a growing concern but hopelessly still there, identify yourself in common people and sing along with them.
It is the whole point of the Cocker-penned classic. Any band hopes for the perfect motion of a song like Common People, the riffs which ride through into a critical, punchy verse of never sliding out of control and picking up the pieces. Character building lacks in those bubble-wrapped away from the dangers of the real world and Pulp, bellies full of fire, make it clear this is no way to live. They do not glorify the struggles and scrapes of the breadline life but can organise themselves as making the most of it. Their origins on the dole are well orchestrated here, the seemingly out-of-the-water feel to being in a club and asked for the upmarket drinks. It still hits as a wild feeling to order something as fancy as rum and Coca-Cola – though any drink in this economy seems a bit lavish.
Necessary and timeless lyrics are only as good as the instrumentals which surround them, though. Thankfully ditching the Casio keyboard the song was first cobbled together on, timekeeper and drummer Nick Banks serves a crucial role here – the pangs of percussion before the “Sing along with the common people” hits keep things in check. Whining guitars from Russell Senior only compound the out-there attitude which took alternative to the mainstream – a key change of pace for the bands of the time and, even now, something which has a rebellious tinge to it. Pulp can be credited for predicting much through Common People and the rise in replicating working-class essentials as though they were fashion trends or kooky ideas to be toyed with by producers and the perceived higher powers in culture, is spot on.
Here is a powerhouse of pop music from the 1990s, wrestled away from the top spot by the very same perception of kooky ideas Pulp were firing shots against. The public never changes. Common People never does either. Impossible to get sick of, wherever you may be listening. Sticky nightclub floors, live somewhere in the heat of the Castlefield Bowl or while sifting through records, picking out ones to sell to a shop down the road so your rent next month is covered. Pride and unity spring through Common People not because it is a reminder of roots in society but because it is a flagship of counterculture despite its popularity and financial achievements. Common People is still for the common people – Pulp made sure of it.
