NB writes:
“Before Pulp made it, they were known in Sheffield as the best local band that hadn’t broken the charts. Everybody else was getting signed and Sheffield was roaring. As the singer of another band that hadn’t been signed, I answered an ad to share their practice room.
“We headed to this building in the city centre. I drew the short straw to knock on the door and discuss the room share, while my bandmate hid around the corner. I could hear someone playing piano upstairs but knocked a few times. Then I waited until there was a break in playing before knocking again, loudly enough for him to hear.
“Cue a cartoon-like piano slam, followed by loud stomping down the wooden stairs to the front door. It flew open and there was Cocker. I opened my mouth to introduce myself and to say I was there about sharing the room… but before I could say a single word he boomed, ‘Fuck off, I’m practicing my art!’ slammed the door and stomped back up the wooden stairs like a big kid.” |