After a spate of gigs and festivals from the likes of Arcade Fire, the Black Eyes Peas and the Chemical Brothers the corner of Hyde Park hosting the Wireless event resembled a dust bowl. Shorn of rain, the ground was brown and dry with the only moisture seeming to be in the urine-soaked swamp around the gents' urinals. Down either side of the venue catering vans laboured under the misapprehension that adding the word 'gourmet' to their signage would make their grub anything other than bog standard. Coupled with an almost forensic search of my pockets, wallet and person, things had not started brilliantly.
Happily, the first band was in full swing as I arrived and aided by two complimentary glasses of vino I made my way to the front. Vintage Trouble were a lively (if unoriginal) start to the day - and their lead singer had one of the finest sideburn/teeth combos I’ve ever seen. Better still were Devotchka - a stylish bunch of multi-instrumentalists whipping up a fusion of mariachi and gypsy-punk which went down extremely well indeed. Any band with a moniker inspired by A Clockwork Orange commands attention - and I fell further in love when they cracked out an accordion and theremin. Metronomy were quietly impressive, although the huge caricatures hanging behind them had disconcertingly scary eyes.
The Horrors and The Hives shared little other than alliteration as they took turns to take the stage. The former's My Bloody Valentine-esque wall of sound was extremely impressive and engaging, but they're probably not exciting enough for a slot on the main stage. The Hives, on the other hand, are simply made for this kind of gig. Spurred on by the faux-machismo of one-man-ego-machine Howlin' Pelle Almqvist they absolutely ripped up Hyde Park. In their dandified top hat and tails they romped through their greatest hits, begged for the crowd's adoration and slipped their hands into a few punters' pants. It was an awesome set which left large swathes of the audience with huge grins on their faces. Sadly, TV on the Radio didn't quite achieve the same effect. Despite a brilliant back-catalogue and an excellent recent album they seemed slightly lacklustre and probably didn’t convert too many potential fans.
The one act of the day utterly unconcerned with winning over people to their cause was, of course, Pulp. With no plans to record new material and only a few more live dates lined up, they came to perform for existing fans and hoped not to sully their reputations. And they did not disappoint.
Jarvis Cocker may be bearded and older, but he's still a snake-hipped charmer with a neat line in betwixt-song-banter and a back-catalogue of belting tunes. Launching into Do You Remember The First Time? saw the band immediately grab the audience by the balls - and they didn't let go until their impressive performance was over.
A set largely culled from His & Hers and Different Class saw Cocker scissor-kicking, guitar-strumming and outrageously flirting with the crowd. He's lost absolutely none of the gawky charm which saw him worm into the affections of the nineties indie crowd - despite the fact that his lyrics often contain some pretty biting comments on society. A surprise rendition of Mile End was a clever sop to the London audience and Jarvis asserted that Pulp belong as much to the capital as their native Sheffield – but this buttering up of the crowd was merely icing the cake. With singalong anthems like Disco 2000 and Sorted for Es & Whizz, Pulp’s material was the star – not least the show stopping finale of Common People.
A good proportion of the audience left an important part of their brain somewhere in a field in London. I suspect a few left their hearts too.
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