Jarvis Cocker pulls some grapes out of his jacket pocket and tosses them into the crowd. He has chocolates in his other pocket, which he shares out too. You imagine his pockets are always full of little snacks, just in case he feels peckish on the bus or, y’know, mid-arena concert. Top up the old blood sugar. Being sensible is a much underrated quality in a rock star.
But then Jarvis has always done things his own way. Sheffield’s ‘weed in tweed’ with his charity shop clothes and NHS glasses who formed his weird little indie band in the 80s with a John Peel session the primary goal, but then went on to serious pop stardom in the 90s, all the while singing about underwear and broken biscuits and woodchipped walls and trying not to get your head kicked in in town on a Saturday night. And don’t we just love it. Don’t we just love him.
