#4. Pulp -- His N Hers. This album was a perfect artifact for its times. It was blatantly pop, and unashamedly British. It was about the often seedy, always fascinating sex and relationships in and around Sheffield. The lyrical sentiments -- or lack thereof -- were clearly the work of a band that could afford to take the piss, talk about inconsequential day to day interpersonal dalliances, without any pretentions of being important musical artists with a responsibility to convey relevant sociopolitical messages. That all changed in 1995, as Pulp became the voice of the underappreciated underclasses. The production became bolder and more assured, which was reflective of the toughening of the message being conveyed (and also due to a different producer). But hearing "Acrylic Afternoons" today, it carries a whiff of irrelevance. Who cares about carrying on an affair with a married woman underneath her dining room table when there are real, pertinent issues to deal with in life? The production does help -- Ed Buller's glossy, extrovertly showbiz production style comes off as an indie version of a 50's musical set in the glitteball 70's. And the glossiness connotes plasticity and insincerity.

The illicit tales can be irresistable, and Jarvis Cocker is undoubtedly a gifted storyteller. But as a musical statement, "His N Hers" -- a wonton depiction of a fantasy world removed far from reality, set to backing tracks produced so slick you could play ice hockey off them -- is as outdated a means of communication as Blur's Cockney yuppie keener characters (from the same time period). Of course, "Parklife" sounds daft and goofy today.