THE FRONT ROW

If Friday was your only day at Tramlines this year, you picked the right one. There’s no denying it: Day One of the 2025 edition belonged entirely to Pulp.

Hillsborough Park was a furnace by mid-afternoon. Sunburns bloomed, lagers disappeared by the crate, and bucket hats reigned supreme. While a handful of early acts got things moving, most festival-goers trickled in late, pacing themselves in the heat. Everyone knew the main event wasn’t until nightfall. This wasn’t just another headliner slot, this was Pulp, back on home turf, and the buzz was palpable from tram stop to turnstile.

By 8:30pm, the sun was beginning to dip, but the temperature stayed high and the energy even higher. As Jarvis Cocker strode on stage, greeted by the roar of 40,000 people, it was immediately clear this would be no ordinary festival set. This was a homecoming gig, a celebration, a sermon, a spectacle.

And what a set. 1 hour and 45 minutes. 17 tracks. Four appearances by Richard Hawley. One song performed live for the very first time. Another dusted off after a 13-year hiatus. Grapes and chocolates thrown to the front rows. Stories. Banter. Nostalgia. Heat haze. Perfection.

They kicked things off with Spike Island, quickly followed by Grown Ups and Slow Jam, easing the crowd into the night with some of their moodier, groove-laced material. From there, things took flight. Sorted for E’s & Wizz got the first big singalong of the night. Disco 2000, still one of the most bulletproof indie-pop songs ever written, turned the park into a chorus pit.

But for the Pulp die-hards, the setlist held some real treasures. Sheffield: Sex City, not played live since 2012, shimmered in the dusk. A woozy, spoken-word ode to the city that raised them, it was a strange, hypnotic inclusion that landed beautifully in front of a crowd who got it.

Newer material from More landed well too. Tina, Farmers Market, and Got to Have Love showed just how fresh this incarnation of Pulp sounds in 2025. These songs might not have the singalong factor of the classics yet, but they slot into the set like they belong, rich with texture, sneering wit, and that unmistakable Jarvis lilt.

Mid-set, Richard Hawley made his first of four appearances, stepping on stage like Sheffield royalty, guitar in hand. Sunrise, performed together, felt transcendent, all shimmering build and emotional weight. Then came something truly special: the live debut of Last Day of the Miners’ Strike. Released quietly back in 2002, it had never been performed before tonight. In a city like Sheffield, the song’s themes hit hard, raw, angry, compassionate. It was a moment of spine-tingling relevance, made all the more powerful by Hawley’s presence.

The hits kept coming: Do You Remember the First Time?, Babies, and a raucous rendition of Mis-Shapes had the entire park bouncing. This Is Hardcore brought drama and theatricality, all noir lighting and Jarvis in full master-of-ceremonies mode. He prowled the stage, gesturing wildly, spinning tales between tracks with a mix of dry humour and sharp observation.

And then there was Common People. What’s left to say about this song that hasn’t already been said? It remains one of the greatest British songs of all time, and live in Sheffield, it transforms into something more than just music. It becomes myth. Jarvis held the intro just long enough to make people nervous, teasing the riff, letting anticipation boil. When it finally dropped, “She came from Greece, she had a thirst for knowledge…”, Hillsborough Park erupted. Pints flew. People screamed every word like it was gospel. Richard Hawley returned to join the band on guitar for this one too, giving the finale an added touch of Sheffield soul.

They closed, fittingly, with A Sunset, an acoustic wind-down that brought the mood back to something tender and thoughtful. Again, Hawley on guitar, and Jarvis crooning as if serenading the hills themselves. It was understated and perfect, a beautiful exhale after one of the most complete sets this city has ever seen.

Throughout the night, Jarvis was at his absolute best. Part lecturer, part lounge act, part frontman, he peppered the set with offbeat musings and personal memories. He spoke about the city, about growing up here, about how weird it felt to be back in front of so many familiar-yet-distant faces. He threw grapes into the crowd at one point (with a grin that suggested he’d been waiting all week to do that), followed by a barrage of chocolates. It was chaotic. It was daft. It was very, very Pulp.

What makes this band so special, and what made this show so unforgettable, is the balance. The balance between art and accessibility. Between the political and the personal. Between indie and orchestral, pop and poetry. In 2025, Pulp aren’t just coasting on old glories. They’re still innovating, still evolving, and still fiercely proud of where they come from.

If Friday night was the only reason you bought a Tramlines ticket, you made the right call. This was no nostalgia cash-in, no festival filler. This was one of the UK’s finest bands, on top form, returning to the city that made them, and delivering a set for the ages.