Pulp – Separations Review

Most would see the slow burn and eventual rise of Pulp as a band trying to take care of their sound. The reality is they never did make much noise of interest until Separations, and even then it was an afterthought of the 1980s. Fire Records mismanaged the band, that much is clear. But their sound was drifting away from the jangle pop rot and dark misery of It and Freaks. Separations felt better built, a fuller-bodied sound with some scope for quality. Jarvis Cocker and the gang had found their solid lineup which would see them through the next two records. Separations is the start of a monumental shift in tone, a joyous rise in not just the quality of their work but the intensity of it. Some of Pulp’s best tracks can be found here. There will be no greater moment for the solo ventures of Jarvis Cocker than closing out a Boiler Shop set with My Legendary Girlfriend.  

These are the sounds of a band yet to make their most memorable moments. Yet listen to opener Love is Blind or follow-up Don’t You Want Me Anymore? and you can hear the catchy riffs which define Pulp. Cocker comes into his own as a lyricist here. He had made massive steps in the right direction between It and Freaks. Separations is the third time lucky and he finds the devolved area in his immediate eyesight a place of great beauty. It would form the core of Different Class but for the time being it is the grey ash of the sky and the vivid imagery associated with crumbling, working-class cities which strikes through so well. Love is Blind hits through with this sound best of all, and the gasps, wails and interjections found throughout Separations make up the foundation of what Pulp provides. 

Aggravated lust separates Separations from the rest of those loved-up, sinking individuals. Macabre tones filter through as Pulp fail to sever the ties of their earliest years on She’s Dead. Title track Separations has a surprising warmth and depth to it. Much of Pulp’s work after this would be the glitz and glam of Europop and the pursuit of the charts, but here is an incredible utilisation of Russell Senior. He is the hidden weapon found on the likes of Down by the River. You can have Cocker warble on about the horrors of small bodies of water all you like, it all comes down to the effective whine and rush the violin adds to these tracks. A truly unique addition which revives the gothic flourish of the first two albums – arguably the best part about the jangle pop misfire and dense macabre follow-up. 

But the bubble soon bursts, and it is the future from Countdown onwards. Those flurries of clanging electrified pop works with the seething anti-romance woven into the lyrical quality. My Legendary Girlfriend is the earliest example Pulp has of a perfect song. A longing love letter to someone uninterested and, on realising this, it bursts at the seams. An explosive and volatile experience which gets to grips with rejection and reaction. Death II provides the other side of this coin. Rejection is still the core but the table is turned. A rare insight into Cocker not as a suffering protagonist but as a sleazy lead with grand appeal. He juggles it well on Separations, a last gasp of true quality before Pulp was picked from the shadows to lead a pop music charge.