Different Class

Released on 30 October 1995, Different Class arrived at the exact moment Britpop threatened to collapse under its own weight. Where others leaned into laddish bravado or nostalgic comfort, Pulp sharpened their gaze. The result is an album that feels both of its time and entirely apart from it, a record that studies British life with a mix of wit, unease and precision.

Following the breakthrough of His ’n’ Hers, this fifth studio album does not so much expand Pulp’s world as clarify it. Jarvis Cocker finds a thematic centre in sex and social class, two forces that shape nearly every song here. The title itself, drawn from a phrase meaning “in a class of its own”, carries a double meaning that runs throughout the record. It is both aspiration and critique, observation and accusation.

The opening stretch is immediate. ‘Common People’, which reached number two on the UK Singles Chart, remains the album’s defining statement. It is sharp, funny and quietly furious, a song that dissects class tourism with a clarity that never feels forced. That sense of detail carries into ‘Sorted for E’s & Wizz’, which trades moralising for reportage, and ‘Disco 2000’, a track that dresses nostalgia in something far more bittersweet.

Musically, Different Class refines Pulp’s established palette. The arrangements remain theatrical, blending synth-led pop with touches of new wave and disco, but there is a confidence in how they are deployed. The album is curiously balanced, at once sparse and full, allowing each song to breathe while still building towards its larger moments. Tracks such as ‘F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.’ and ‘Live Bed Show’ show a band comfortable stretching their sound without losing focus.

Cocker’s writing is what anchors it all. His characters feel specific, drawn with a novelist’s eye for detail, yet they never lose their universality. He captures the nuances of suburban and working-class life without flattening them into caricature. Whether observing infidelity, awkward desire or quiet disappointment, he maintains a tone that is both detached and deeply human.

There is humour here, but it is rarely gentle. Different Class is frequently biting, occasionally nasty, and all the better for it. It does not seek to flatter its subjects or its audience. Instead, it holds a mirror up and lets the discomfort settle. That approach gives the album its lasting power. It rewards attention because it demands it.

The artwork, with its wedding photograph and interchangeable covers, reinforces the album’s themes. Ordinary life is placed centre stage, but always with a sense that something is slightly off, slightly staged. It mirrors the songs themselves, where the familiar is constantly reframed.

Commercially, the album’s success was immediate. It entered the UK Albums Chart at number one, produced four top-ten singles, and went on to achieve quadruple platinum status. Critically, it was just as celebrated, winning the 1996 Mercury Music Prize and quickly establishing itself as a defining record of the era.

What makes Different Class endure is not just its place within Britpop, but its distance from it. While many of its contemporaries now feel tied to a specific moment, Pulp’s work here remains remarkably intact. The themes it explores have not dulled, and the songs retain their edge.

It is, quite simply, a record that understood its world better than most. And in doing so, it made itself difficult to outgrow.