History of pop reveals more than who's number one REVIEW

LAST WEEK

JARVIS COCKER'S POP TV RULES!

THURSDAY, CHANNEL 4, 10.50PM

POP TV is a fickle thing. It only has a handful of truly generation-defining moments. And, for the most part, they're familiar to us all, thanks to the genius invention that is the compilation show. You might remember seeing Dexy's Midnight Runners classic Jackie/Jocky Wilson TOTP moment or watching the Sex Pistols - and Britain's - first bout of blasphemy on Bill Grundy's show but it's more likely you caught a clip of it on 100 Moments In Music That Shocked The World - From The F***ing Top.

In 1996 (and you may have caught a clip of this in Britain's Top Touchdowns On Planet Pop), Jarvis Cocker clambered out of the star- studded audience of the Brit Awards and onto the stage - his lanky limbs shepherding away the "starving" children worshipping at the feet of a celestially lit Michael Jackson as he belted out the ego anthem Earth Song. Cocker shaking his bony bumcheeks at the cameras became a pop TV moment of the highest calibre.

While that clip may well have been the CV entry that sold Channel 4 on Jarvis Cocker's Pop TV Rules! , none of these clips were included in his history lesson on pop. And that was a thoroughly good thing.

No doubt created in Channel 4's creaking compilation factory, this fell back on that old tried-and -tired method: the classic countdown structure, featuring the introduction of ad breaks with a summary of what treats await afterwards and then reintroducing the same exciting elements afterwards - just in case those subliminal messages had blanked your mind. However, from Cocker's first promise to "probe and penetrate Pan's People", you realised that all was not as it should have been on the day he picked up his camera crew.

Strutting about like Bill Nighy playing Doctor Who, Cocker shunned stereotypical pop highlights for much more personal pleasures: rather than another rerun of the Krankies's cover of Bowie's Starman, he unearthed a Hi-De-Hi-esque rendition of Golden Years (from the Crackerjack archives, of all places).

Clad in his trademark brown jacket, with lank hair so greasy it was practically dreadlocked, Cocker still somehow looked cool, like the substitute teacher you always wished for. Interspersing his clips with interviews from the likes of Jimmy Savile, Tony Wilson and Rick Parfitt and then - just when you thought the talking heads bus had been sent round all the usual stops - up popped Jack Good. Who? Jack Good, the pioneer of pop TV and producer of Six Five Special. You know, Jack Good? The music mastermind who became so disgusted with what he had unleashed on modern society that he went off and became a monk. No? Never heard of him? Well, Cocker had. And that was the best thing about this show; it was a real insight into the mind of the former Pulp frontman.

As he plodded through his countdown of rules, (which included gems such as number eight: Get Jimmy Savile! and number four: Beware! Pop In The Wrong Hands Can Be Rubbish), Cocker was charting his own personal voyage through the music moments that changed and shaped his life. This was surprisingly engaging TV, and it played out like a glorious mix tape from an old friend.

Copyright 2005 SMG Sunday Newspapers Ltd.
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