Pulp: O.U. (single)

...so we finally made it into orbit (good, init?). But like the man said "Space is O.K. but I'd rather get my kicks down below." One re-entry later and now it's a choice between an extra hour in bed or stopping the love of your life from getting the next train out of town. Took too long deciding what shirt to wear and blew it. But hold on, who's this walking out of the sun? It can't be - but it is. Talk about leaving it till the last minute. O.U. jammy get...

it's frothy man, 2 minutes & 50 seconds of timeless, unconditionally guaranteed, perfectly formed, catchy, non-toxic, lovable, sexually enlightened, 150 B.P.M., radiophonic, stylophonic, stereophonic, man-made, organic, life-enhancing, fast'n'loud, brand new, frantic, overwrought, unusually melodic, slightly flared, well-groomed, irresistible, ripe, pert, tight as, arousing, seductive, moist, fully-lined, up to the minute, fashionable; durable, well-designed, figure-hugging, gripping music containing no shards of crystalline guitar whatsoever - available in three formats; super duper.

In France they ask "Where?"
But we say: O.U.

We finally decided to leave Fire, and recorded "O.U." and "Space" early in 1992, with Simon Hinkler. It didn't turn out very well, so we used Ed Buller to remix it. I'd heard his production on the Spiritualised LP and he sounded able to work with keyboards, rather than concentrating on guitars. We were very impressed - he transformed the song. "O.U." became our first release on Gift Records. It was a Sheffield label, and we knew the people - they also run Warp.

Single of the Week 2

This is colossal. And already I'm torn between these two inspirational records. Oh hell, be unfaithful to both of them simultaneously. Move to a love nest on the sea-front and see them on alternate evenings. And have Thursdays off to get your hair done.

"O.U." (Oh you? Open University?) is three minutes of staggering popgasm. Sharing a similar disdain for the age as Suede (which, of course, makes it feverishly modern) its prime difference is that it is out of control. Jarvis Cocker's love-life brims, it seems, with the elation that comes with phenomenal doubt, pain and failure. "Cherish and be damned" is Pulp's implicit motto, while Suede are more the, "Damn and be cherished" types.

Everything is post-austerity space-race melodrama with an orchestra of organs. Your whole wardrobe flashes before you - embarrassing corduroys, hats and satin tabards - as the night, we are told, is ending, "He wanted her undressed/He said he loved her/She tried to look impressed". Suddenly, we have lift-off into the outer universe of desire. Turn it up loud enough and the climbing chord sequence will induce the sort of nervous laughter you get on a big dipper. It's a giddy world here and Pulp have captured it in all its radiophonic (in)fidelity in jaw-dropping luv-o-rama.

Again, I say you can stuff kitth, you can bury glamour in a pit. Give me life. Real life in all its heart-stretching, sweat-drenched, love-sick splendour and swirl. These records have it even if they like to disguise the fact.

Pulp have been at this kind of thing for ages and their hard times show through and help make this record important and desperate to be heard. As all great pop records should be. Let's hope this is the one that finally gets the message across to the rest of the universe, eh Jarvis?