What the writer below is not taking the time to say here about Sheffield and Cocker and the Arctic Monkeys is that the sense of place has not been eradicated from these English towns yet. Therefore they still give rise to actual individuals who have opinions. The powerful sort of individualistic humanism that Cocker displays makes his mock grandiosity on stage brilliant, but it also quizzically makes him genuinely grand.
It's wonderful stuff, and we of Wit hope he passes back through town again on his way back home. Then run back to Paris, Jarvis, (that's where Mr. Cocker lives now) and write us another solo album!
"Even more deeply English were Arctic Monkeys, from Sheffield, as is Mr. Cocker. Arctic Monkeys’ wordy, jokey, artfully un-self-conscious pub-punk, next to Mr. Cocker’s mock grandiosity, traced the sensibilities of that single far-off town; lessons like this, among other things, are what festivals are for...."
Link: A Rock Festival Whose Hallmark Is Taste - New York Times.
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