Britpop was as much about the personalities as the music, and if Oasis were the kings of the genre, then Jarvis Cocker was its court jester, poking fun at the emperor's new clothes, and twisting his gangly frame in the name of entertainment.

The man who once wiggled his bum in Michael Jackson's direction is now oscillating wildly on the Ambassador stage, looking like a student who lost his shoes and can't find his specs, but can still see through the facade. This not-so-secret gig has been organised by Witnness, those nice sponsors who brought us David Bowie at HQ in 1999, and the annual two-day festival in Fairyhouse. Pulp is a prestigious addition to their CV, but the truth is that Cocker and co badly need this high-profile event. Sales of their eco-friendly new album, We Love Life, wouldn't finance a road protest, so the band need a boost to get them back on track. Nothing wrong with the new songs: Weeds, The Trees and Sunrise are sharp, gritty pop tunes, while The Night Minnie Timperley Died is a return to the band's Northern townie roots. The problem is, Pulp's sardonic take on pop seems a little out of season. Their biggest hits, Common People and Disco 2000, are left undisturbed in Britpop's museum, but Sorted For E's and Wizz gets a dusting off, while Joyriders and Feeling Called Love are given another run around the block. A fine gig, then, but the lasting impression was not of the music, but of the lanky silhouette of Jarvis Cocker as he stalked the stage like the ghost of Britpop past.