fifteen years after forming arabacus pulp as a schoolboy, jarvis cocker finally scored his first hit single with 'babies' - a sexually-charged tale of teenage voyeurism which saw jarvis on top of the pops with 'i hate wet wet wet' written on his jacket. at the time, the scottish superstars dismissed such behaviour as desperate attention-grabbing from indie no-hopers. britain, though, had already decided it could do with a pop star who could wring poetry from the grubbier little enclaves of small-town life. and in low rent synth-dramas, such as 'acrylic afternoons', 'pink glove', and the bilious 'joyriders', jarvis began to deliver in earnest, coming on like the missing link between serge gainsbourg and the human league. 'his'n'hers' didn't finish off the job, of course - it would take a more dynamic producer and a class-avenging anthem called 'common people' to make him a national treasure. wet wet wet's career though, never quite recovered.
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