Pulp – Disco 2000
My recent song blogs have digressed into personal anecdotes, musings on love, or commentaries on the gap between the always fantastic life one hopes to lead and the often mundane life one actually does lead. In short, I’ve strayed away from the original concept behind the posts, namely dissecting a song I find to be especially well-written. In what I hope will be harbinger of song-related song posts to come, today I will share with you the second of my triumvirate of favorite songs; I already wrote about one in a previous post.
Currently Playing: Pulp – Disco 2000
Well we were born within an hour of each other
Our mothers said we could be sister and brother
Your name is Deborah, Deborah,
It never suited ya.
Oh they said that when we grew up,
we’d get married, and never split up.
We never did it, although often I thought of it.
“Disco 2000” is another example of an uptempo, danceable song that sounds happy from a musical standpoint, but is lyrically a fairly somber and serious song.
I said let’s all meet up in the year 2000
Won’t it be strange when we’re all fully grown?
Be there 2 o’clock by the fountain down the road.
I never knew that you’d get married
I would be living down here on my own
On that damp and lonely
Thursday years ago.
Really, what more need I say? Jarvis Cocker, Pulp’s lead singer and songwriter, pretty much said it all right there. He continues the tale, recalling his unspoken crush on Deborah throughout their school years together:
You were the first girl at school to get breasts.
Martin said that you were the best.
The boys all loved you but I was a mess
I had to watch them try to get you undressed
We were friends that was as far as it went
I used to walk you home sometimes but it meant,
Oh it meant nothing to you.
’Cause you were so popular.
Deborah do you recall?
Your house was very small,
with wood chip on the wall.
When I came around to call,
you didn’t notice me at all.
For whatever reason, while this song is a positive dance floor anthem in most parts of the world, it never climbed the American pop charts. Unless you found yourself at some niche Britpop club back in the ’90s, á la San Francisco’s Pop Scene, you have probably never heard this song, which is a pity, for it is, at least in my opinion, one of the greatest pop songs of all time. I hope you’ve clicked the above link and heard it. Even if you don’t share my opinion, you can’t deny that it is danceable to the extreme.
It’s also enigmatic in its finale:
What are you doing Sunday baby?
Would you like to come and meet me maybe?
You can even bring your baby.
Will Deborah meet the protagonist on Sunday? Is her baby her husband, or is it her child? Has she divorced, and is she at last ready to embark on romance with the boy who has adored her since childhood?
A final note, and a personal one (I can’t escape it, can I?), this is the song that made Fizzy and I, well, Fizzy and I. We met in an elevator five years ago, almost to the day, and in the time it took the elevator to rise eight floors, we ascertained that this was both of our favorite songs. And then we fell in love. Okay, more stuff happened in between, but seriously– thank you Jarvis Cocker! I knew Pulp could do nearly anything, but I never knew Pulp could do anything like that…
I’d never heard it before but I LOVE it! Do you know more songs like this one?
Hey Pea, how was the NY trip? Glad to be back in SF? Talk to you later, bro.
Why do I always end up feeling jealous of this Fizzy girl every time I read one of your posts?
@CBRichard, Check the NY blog!
pulp pulp pulp
youre right i never heard it before but i love it!
I think it’s great you analyzed this song. I was shopping over the weekend on South Street and Pulp songs (this and “Common People”) were playing in 2 different stores. I don’t know what it is like out there, but you never hear stuff like that here, except is a bar has a jukebox. I find most of Pulp’s songs to be depressing. But in a good way.