More

More is classic Pulp, aged to near perfection.

That it’s been executed so flawlessly is testament to the musicians involved; acting both as fuel for this summer’s arena shows and an artistic work in its own right, ‘More’ perfectly meets the brief of what a Pulp record should sound like in 2015.

From the very outset, they exceed expectations, such is the quality and compositional depth of the material here.

To come back after over two decades and casually produce an album that sounds like it could have been made in the band’s heyday is quite some achievement.

Their masterpiece. .... They've matured- not like a fine wine, but maybe like a magnificently ripe Wensleydale. [Jul 2025, p.20]

More adds additional highlights to Pulp’s already robust catalog.

In short, if you love any of the jagged elements which make up this art project called Pulp, you will find something to love on More.

‘More’ is everything you’d want a Pulp album to be, made richer from some lived experience.

There’s a universality to More which benefits from Cocker’s inimitable, offbeat perspective.

Pulp aren’t taking this chance to merely dine out on nostalgia; instead, they’re returning as evolutions, not imitations, of their past selves - grateful for what they have, while they have it.

More accomplishes in just three songs the transition between fan-settling familiarity and creative advancement.

Given how strong the imprint of their frontman’s voice is, it seems almost pointless to note that the contents of More sound like Pulp – if Cocker was unexpectedly recruited as lead singer of Cannibal Corpse, they’d probably sound like Pulp too – but suffice to say the music here does all the things a longstanding fan might expect.

It's a worthy continuation of the unfulfilled upswing they were on when they called it quits feels like an undeserved bonus. More is unlikely to win Pulp many new fans, but that would be presumptuous to really want (and undignified to aim for) when you can otherwise hit the mark so authentically.

Tina’s bossa nova rhythms slip awkwardly between homage and parody, its retro charms uncertainly realised. Yet even these misfires retain the warmth and sincerity that make More an inviting return. Pulp demonstrate here that revisiting the past can yield genuinely uncompromising and organic rewards.

More is that rarest of reunion records: one that transcends nostalgia to actually enhance a band’s legacy. [Jul 2025, p.74]

As ever, a feeling abides of Cocker looking around him at the stuff of life – parenthood, divorce, marriage, loss, religion, class – and turning it into relatable and (yep) grown-up pop music. [Jun 2025, p.100]

It’s a rewarding and fun listen – but it also magnifies the inescapable fact that Pulp, just like their audience, have matured.

While there’s always going to be comparisons with those flawless albums from the mid-‘90s or the need for better quality control (sometimes less is More if you’ll pardon the pun), More is almost everything one could have hoped for from a Pulp album in 2025.

More goes big and mature with lusher, sometimes even baroque arrangements to surround Cocker’s voice—a voice that’s huskier, more leaden by time and gravity.

A re-engerised record that sits comfortably next to is 'N' Hers and Different Class. [Summer 2025, p.73]

While the track lengths aren’t unreasonable, with none running past six minutes, the songs feel overextended, lacking the propulsive force and shifting dynamics of Pulp’s best work.