Perfect pop for the common people

Pulp — Clickimin Centre, Tuesday.

Into our dreariest summer for years beamed a ray of sunshine - one Jarvis Cocker, the perfect pop star.

In fact, basking in the glow of pop royalty, the crowd soon turned the Clickimin into such a cauldron that body steam was raining back down off the roof. Yeuch. But it reminded everyone what it's like to sweat buckets.

For Pulp fans there was probably never a night quite like it. For the less partisan music fan it was a novel experience and the chance to get a piece of the kind of action hogged by the big cities.

Thank you Candida. You have done us proud.

All through the gig she skulked in the shadows, high up behind the action. But at the end she was scooped into Jarvis' arms, down to the front of the stage to speak to her people: "Thanks for coming. Hiya Caroline." That was it. She was off — not one for hogging the limelight our Candida, unlike someone else in the band...

But a minute later they bounced back for an encore of Disco 2000 and Babies, the song from His 'n' Hers which helped break them into the mainstream.

Then suddenly the fantasy was all over. Lights on. Back to reality. Nowhere else to go.

Much earlier, outside the main door of the centre as the crowd filed in for the show, a hooded Candida had stood with her mum, the actress Sandra Voe. They greeted old friends and the dozens of cozens and kent faces who made the pilgrimage to see their latest famous relation in action.

The celebrity pair were also busy ensuring that everyone who should be was on the guest list.

When the stage manager emerged, to say that the support band Chin was going on, the VIPs filed in to watch Candida's brother Danny Doyle do whatever it is you do with record decks when backing rap musicians.

What we got was a bit of a live first for Shetland. Was it that old Clickimin curse that caused the muddy sound — or that sad pop pecking-order rule which dictates that warm-up acts have their mix unmixed? Chin's dreadlocked crazies seemed to split the crowd down the middle. There were those who went for it full scale and those who thought it was shocking. Shockingly bad or bland, depending.

Yet the band drew perhaps the most enthusiastic reception of their short career to date.

Soon the bar was empty and for the first time the hall began to look more like a sold out gig. Still loads of room at the back though.

With probably half of the 1400 punters on the tender side of 18 the biggest worry facing the swarms of security men was nippers being crushed underfoot.

And then there was the fainting. Long before Jarvis showed his face handfuls of 10 or 11 year olds were being evacuated with heat and emotional exhaustion.

On Bressay the sheepdogs probably woke with the high-pitched yowls which greeted Pulp's arrival on stage. Perhaps the shrillest loudest human noise ever in Shetland?

Launching into Mis-shapes, Jarvis was holding nothing back. Limbs akimbo, spindly gesticulations — every histrionic in the book. "He's like a giant green bean," said a mother of four suddenly discovering she rather liked Pulp.

Next came Do You Remember The First Time?, Monday Morning, and I Spy. So carried away did he become at one point that he elegantly tossed his guitar over his shoulder, sending the poor beauty crashing to the floor.

More singles and favourites came and went including Something Changed and Sorted for Es & Wizz.

They even played a new song for the first time in the world, Help The Aged, written after a boozy night at the Edinburgh Festival. Not so good. Perhaps not to be heard again?

Jarvis' inter-song musings were a bit hard to make out. Not due to volume but mush. Rock music seems simply to be doomed to mush in the centre.

When he asked how many in the crowd were Candida's cousins everybody's arm shot up. "Oh. Are you all gonna buy her a pint then?" said the great one.

Then at the end of the set the British teen anthem of 1995 Common People sent everybody stagewards once more for one last shot at going bananas — until the encore.

Back at the Queen's Hotel, where some of the band stayed, £2000 worth of champagne was reputed to be chilling nicely alongside the best Shetland smoked salmon.

But Candida's family also laid on a big spread of Shetland hospitality in Trondra, far from the madding crowd.

Six hours later one of her cousins was climbing in his bedroom window, sorted for sleaze and fizz, no doubt.

Wish comes true for Candida as band make history

Candida Doyle's wish came true. She finally brought Pulp and Jarvis Cocker to the people of Shetland.

For once Britain's most northerly outpost was firmly marked on the London-obsessed map of pop — Lerwick was staging the most important gig in the country and celebrating a rare moment in Shetland pop history.

Along with Blur and Oasis, Pulp make up the three big noises in the British pop industry today — at least this year.

It was back in February that Shetland Arts Trust was approached about helping pull off a big gig with "a household name". Immediately Pulp were the candidates being whispered about in the trust offices in Pitt Lane.

But the secret stayed safe enough for four months as the plans were put in place. Rumours abounded but nobody was confirming anything or it could all have fallen through.

Then in June the ticket sales were finally announced and the gig was promptly postponed because Pulp could not get back from Shetland to Ireland in time for another concert two days later. How often do people fail to realise just how remote the islands are?

With a new date set and 1400 tickets sold out instantly after an all-night queue, those who had any interest in the Pulp phenomenon sat back and waited.

"I think it has cost us money to do it. But not too much," Jarvis admitted on Tuesday at a hastily arranged press conference in the Queen's Hotel.

The night before there had been anxiety among fans and some of Candida's family in Shetland . Fog had shrouded Sumburgh Airport and Jarvis might not have made it in on Tuesday to join the rest of the band after staying on longer at the Edinburgh Festival. Pulp without Jarvis?

But the singer arrived on cue in the early afternoon on Tuesday and promptly got stuck in the airport's revolving door with his minders and determined reporters on the scent of a scoop or two.

Candida was busy visiting her countless Williamson-connected family members and was nowhere to be seen at the press conference. So Jarvis had to do all the talking as usual.

Struggling with his post-Edinburgh Festival hangover, he tolerated a string of questions from the pack of national reporters whom he had been surprised to see on the islands, given the total absence of press passes and Pulp's wishes for a low key gig.

He said Pulp's experiences had made them favour playing northern places. "The further north you get the more people seem to be up for having a good time. There's a Viking boat parked outside my window. Maybe there's going to be some rampaging going on."

Shetland to him had meant itchy jumpers his mother made him wear but he thought a nice Fair Isle tank top might suit him. But his first impressions had reminded him of Iceland: "No trees and stuff."

If he had been marooned on the islands after the gig he was hoping for a bit of a laugh and perhaps a pagan ritual or two. "I would like to stay a bit longer but we've got two big shows on the mainland at the weekend."

Another meaningless media encounter was over. Down to business at last.

With the show fulfilling expectations it was time to party again. The next day has was off again — but with a little bit of Shetland forever implanted in his odd little pop star brain.