It seems to be fashionable to give the poor lad a good kicking these days, but the criticism is underserved. Far from being a watered down Dry Your Eyes, Never Went To Church's tale of Skinner missing his recently departed dad is him doing what he's always done best: taking something we can all relate to and telling it to us in language we could never hope to match.

No matter how famous you get and no matter how successful, it hurts when people you love die. If you don't understand that, you've never lost anyone you really care about. If you have, you'll know that this is the kind of tale that can't be told with the usual dose of winking Streets irony because that would strip it of its poignancy. It's in that simple realisation that the brilliance of this record lies: Pulp lost their way once they thought they could no longer relate to their audience, but Skinner knows where the connections can still be found. The lyrics are raw, heartbreaking and honest - just like the man who writes them. And he is a fucking genius, so shut your whining and listen to his instead.

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