Hard as it may be to consider a song pre-dating Different Class as the best example of Pulp as a band, this is very much it. Razzmatazz has the rhyming couplet, the instrumental style, and counter-culture thrill here, which the band would rely on for years to come. Another song from the Jarvis Cocker-fronted group that’s very easy to lose yourself in. To hear yourself in it is another story entirely. It’s not quite the call to arms of Mis-Shapes, but Razzmatazz is a song which serves up the very best of Pulp. It’s a taster session of those jutting elbows and deadpan, spoken-word breaks. This is what Pulp does best, it is the band at the height of their powers, a power which would remain over the albums to follow. All those little details, from the instrumental build at the start of the song to the vocal interjections from Cocker, which tie the song together, are vintage Pulp.
Kitchen sink drama would be the massive aid of both Intro: The Gift Recordings and His ‘n’ Hers. The former is built entirely on those situations which Cocker and the band could pull from, the latter in deeper, darker conversations which were rarely appropriate for public discussion. It’s on Razzmatazz that a blur of the two is found. A jab at an ex-girlfriend but also a chance to ridicule those who find contentment in considerably less-interesting lifestyles. Pulp has always had it in for those swayed by the simpler side of life. It’s not the ease of access that bothers them or their listeners, but the lack of desire found in those who are choosing boxes of Milk Tray over a delicate, wilder taste. There’s a bitterness which brings to life the realism of all those romance songs, the tracks which tested the very limits of what could be seen as acceptable, and what was more a doughy-eyed idealisation of romance.
Cocker writes at his best when he issues a blunt rejection of the past. Pulp has no time for reminiscent tones. You can hear that elsewhere on O.U. (Gone, Gone), a song where the protagonist has a chance to recapture their former flame, but sounds too lazy to do so. Change is a fearsome opportunity, but so too is the past. Razzmatazz is a fiery piece of work, a song where the fury of its writer and the upper hand they had at the time are still raging through. We inevitably compare ourselves to those from our past, to see how well we are getting along ourselves. If it’s better, fantastic. Nobody wants to be the person stuck with “some bad comedian”, as Cocker puts it. Backed by some incredible instrumental work, frank and warm in the right spots, Razzmatazz fast becomes one of the band’s best songs.
It remains such, too. Pulp’s longevity also highlights the band’s ongoing desire to comment on love in all its ugliest forms. Even their most recent album, More, managed to fit some of that contrast in. Grown Ups would see a character break for what they believe is a better situation, only to find the grass isn’t greener on the other side. Razzmatazz pulls a listener back from that journey and has us watch the disaster take place in real time. What of the people who decide to break things off, to make a big change, and fall flat on their face? There’s a satisfaction in seeing it happen to those we dislike, and a big part of Razzmatazz is based on that. It’s a thankfulness for dissatisfaction where you hope it crops up without your involvement. Pulp are gut-wrenchingly honest on this one, and it cements Razzmatazz as one of their very best songs.
