Nick Banks and Jarvis Cocker can downplay rumblings of a reunion album all they want, but there is still room for hope. A Sunset caught the Helsinki crowd off guard. The final European Pulp show this year, and a new song to finish it off. It is not the first time Cocker has performed the song – an outing of it with Richard Hawley at The Leadmill marked its first release. But now the band is in full swing and, much like Hymn of the North and Background Noise, the pace is slower, reflective and riddled with the sombre tones of a band back together, likely for the last time. Look ahead and towards the dying light. A Sunset could have been ripped from We Love Life. The band dares to wonder about the construct of nature once more, and they make good on extending those thoughts.
The Cocker and Hawley-penned piece feels right at home with the setlist at present. While the band has toyed with the first few tracks, swapping out Mis-Shapes for O.U. recently, there has been little moulding of the end. Common People is the perfect closer, but the encore needs an encore. A Sunset provides just that and is a nice contrast to Sunrise. The latter is a booming guitar-heavy blast, a great release for a band who hang their hat on it as the final album track of their last work. A Sunset provides the slim lights on the horizon and is a lyrically exceptional experience. An insecurity adapted to escapism. Buy yourself a ticket and take the ride to those happenings. Unhappiness is rampant in spending and therein comes a similarity to the solo works of Cocker.
It is not quite the cream of the crop, but it has a touch of Cunts Are Still Running the World to it. Breeding inequality through exposure to misery is the core of this soft and charming piece. Cocker provides himself with the chance to be seen as a voice of the voiceless. A Sunset is a touching piece. The surprise of this comes not from the allusions to We Love Life though but to the pertinent writing Cocker provides. Once more he proves himself as a man in touch with the world around him, his fingers on the pulse of the everyday struggle. A Sunset is a sign Pulp as a unit can still do it. “It” in this instance is sticking to their roots. They have not drifted away from the plight which made Common People such an incendiary piece of work.
A Sunset is not taking up arms against those who are touring their way through the lives of others but rallies forth for those without a voice. We are not all lucky enough to splash out on WordPress sites, nor hold the skills to headline festivals. For those who are happy to get on by without shouting their opinions out there, take some solace in A Sunset. Whether it sees the lights of a studio in the not-too-distant future is yet to be seen, but it is nice to think it will. It, along with Hymn of the North and Background Noise, feel like essential, post-high releases. There is no harm in reflection of this quality – Blur and Suede already did it with The Ballad of Darren and Autofiction respectively – and for Pulp to mount this sort of return is possible. A Sunset is of the right quality, a truthful essence which guides a neat, calming instrumental section which makes the most of the band as a new unit.
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