An audience recording exists.
From the all-out assault of the Mouse to the misfit-glam of PULP is a hell of a long musical journey. Their energy is confined to the right leg and flicking hands of that lanky man in the '70s Burtons suit, Jarvis Cocker. With their much delayed 'Separations' LP finally about to hit the street, Pulp perversely play a set composed almost entirely of new songs. 'The Boss' and 'Razzmatazz' are both superb, surging romps through electroland. They close with 'OU', Jarvis becoming entangled with his mic-stand while Candida lets rip with a Stylophone solo. As he reaches Superman-like for the sky at the soaring climax, you can almost believe that this Cocker can fly.
Pulp put the 'Show' so firmly into the 'Business' that only one band can possibly hope to follow them. And it's not STEREOLAB. [...]
So , it's not yet two o'clock and already here inside the tent the stars are out. PULP are on stage. They are, as ever, all glorious, slightly-tarnished razzamattaz and witty self-awareness paraded in impeccable pop tunes full of tragi-comic tenderness. They are confident enough with their image to flirt with cabaret, camp and satire without once tripping up on parody and are seduced/goaded/threatened in this by the incomparable Jarvis, all mock-lascivious hip swivels and high kicks, Tom Jones trapped inside the body of a six foot, 90 pound weed. Pulp are divine and deserve to be huge.