Released 21 June 1994 - Island Records
When the Mercury music prize was first introduced in 1992, it was celebrated as the pinnacle of critical acknowledgement. The BRITS had stagnated (even to the point of awarding Fine Young Cannibals a Best Album gong), the public needed guidance and so it was down to the illuminati of music writers and artists on the Mercury panel to provide us with a 'no more arguments, this is it', definite annual magnum opus.
Always an endless point of debate, there have been gaping oversights, although I've occasionally applauded their bravery (Portishead's Dummy, for example, certainly sits better with me as a winner than Definitely Maybe). Some years though, they've had a wee pull on the appendage.
Take 1994. The Prodigy had harnessed ecstasy-fuelled warehouse raves and suburban insolence and produced Music For The Jilted Generation, Blur took a hiatus from pretending to be the Kinks and were now soundtracking both Glastonbury and Ayia Napa with Parklife. Even Weller was beginning to regain some much-needed credibility as a songwriter with Wild Wood.
However, in the learned opinion of the Mercury judges, the most creatively superior and innovative album release that year was Elegant Slumming by M People.
Yep, I spilled my Merlot too.
Pulp's rise to prominence in the mid 90's has been well documented. Sheffield everymen (and a girl) that had ploughed their way through obscurity throughout the eighties, constantly rejected as unfashionable sore thumbs, mis-shapes. Unfashionable that is, except in the eye of a certain Mr Ravenscroft who became the groups only outlet for national airplay and regularly brought them in to record sessions for broadcast.
It wasn't until their last 2 single releases for Gift, Babies and Razzamatazz, that the group began to accumulate success, the band subsequently signing for Island and releasing His 'N' Hers in 1994.
Like Suede's debut the year previous, His 'N' Hers doesn't contain love songs about the fair and the slim. Instead Jarvis Cocker writes about fetishes (Pink Glove) and discomforted, unrequited crushes (She's A Lady, Do You Remember The First Time). The stand out exception is the first song, the almost effortless Joyriders. A sonnet of sorts to the apathy of Thatcher's children with it's mischievous invite to "..watch some vandals smashing up someone's home." It's a dry observation of Cocker's surroundings, without the Betjeman sneer. Babies is here too, re-recorded and slighty differering from the previous version released as a single. Still a staple of the indie disco, the ubercool (including yours truly) have been know to play square and fingerwave, even if only for 4 minutes.
As easy as it is to champion Jarvis as a lyricist, His N Hers' crisp instrumentalism and regard for unashamed catchiness are what propells it into classicdom. Roxy Music and Sheffield contempories Human League and ABC are clear references, this is their Lexicon Of Love, their Dare.
Others disagree, Different Class was more successful commercially, in part due to Jarvis's shamen-like control over all and sundry at Glastonbury in 1995, and bagged them the elusive Mercury Prize the following year, beating (What's The Story) Morning Glory.
Jesus, do they ever get it right....?