Jarvis Cocker

Further Complications

(Rough Trade)

Record Review by Alex Pudlin

Growing up on Pulp, I always thought Jarvis Cocker could do no wrong. From the classic albums to the Michael Jackson incident, I believed in JC. Even Pulp’s last album, We Love Life, and Jarvis’ solo debut had more than enough high points. And then came Cocker’s latest, Further Complications. Three songs in, you may get a sneaking suspicion that Jarvis has finally run out of fuel. Cocker may’ve made a career out of smug monotone observations, but here he actually sounds bored with it all. By the time the poorly placed angular instrumental rocker “Pilchard” arrives, you start to grow rather antsy. “Pilchard” feels like a track that most artists stuff towards the rear of an album to provide some respite from the clamoring vocals. But as the third track on the album? Has Jarvis really run out of ideas that quickly? Yet just as I’m hurling myself off the bridge, the first few notes of “Leftovers” swoop in like Superman to save the day.

From the first sustained chords, “Leftovers” sounds like a lost Pulp track. Indeed, Jarvis’ opening line here (“I met her in the Museum of Paleontology”) twists the supermarket encounter of Pulp’s “Common People” on its head. Cocker goes on to drop a heavy dose of prehistoric metaphors, vampire shout-outs, and desires to be a teddy bear. Sure, the whole escapade becomes a bit too goofy for its own good, but at least he gives the listener hope. The next track, “I Never Said I Was Deep,” firmly erases any lingering doubts. Jarvis mixes piano, off-key Band-esque horns and pedal steel, while proclaiming, “my lack of knowledge is vast.” It’s equally self-loathing and lovingly pretentious. More importantly, it’s the most fully realized song Jarvis has recorded since This is Hardcore. 

It’s no surprise that Further Complications never exceeds such great heights. That said, we’re left with a fascinating hodgepodge of screeching horns, double entendres and squealing guitars. Under Steve Albini’s production thumb, Further Complications rocks
harder than anything else in Jarvis’ catalogue. The high-octane riffage and driving backbeats provide a compelling counterbalance to Jarvis’ deadpan delivery. Like on “Fuckingsong,” where guitars squeal like infants until the whole song drops into a quick wash of feedback, wordless vocalization and a rudimentary beatbox. But the lull only lasts a second before Jarvis stammers back in with “it’s just a fucking song.” Moments like this are potent antidotes to any earlier doubts you may’ve had that Jarvis was content to play it safe.

As a whole, the songs on Further Complications gel together about as well as a pit bull and a kitten. The album has next to no flow, and it bizarrely ends with two 6+ minute songs, including a pleasant disco number that simply doesn’t seem to end.  Yet the more you listen to the mess, the more you come to appreciate Jarvis’ rock n’rolla attitude. In Albini, Cocker has found a cohort who will push him to do whatever the fuck he wants. So sometimes you’ll get classics and other times you’ll get a self-indulgent jam. But taken on Jarvis’ terms, Further Complications will continue to convince you that Mr. Cocker can do no wrong, even if it’s not entirely true.