"Nobody wants to admit they're growing old, or give up the luxury of youth, the irresponsibility. But how are we supposed to grow old and not become embarassing or abysmally boring? Do we all have to become Phil Collins?...I think it's our evolutionary duty to come up with an alternative lifestyle that's got some dignity, but is still a bit lively."
               --Jarvis Cocker in Spin Magazine, May 1998

The music media seems suspiciously divided on the subject of aging rockers. Some attack with ferocity anyone over thirty who dares to strap on an electric guitar, while others mindlessly gush over the fact that Keith Richards's arthritis doesn't prevent him from rewriting old Stones tunes at the ripe age of 987. Whether you think Grandpa Mick belongs in a recording studio or a retirement home, you must admit that no major rock icon has yet sufficiently addressed the idea of growing old and kicking ass at the same time. While some minor rock figures (Steve Earle, John Hiatt) enjoy teasing the issue, others (Neil Young, the aforementioned Rolling Stones) have flat- out ignored it, and still others (Bruce Springsteen, Elvis Costello) have altogether retreated into their "grown-up" music, perhaps never to return.

So who is the adult voice of the "punk generation," the second thus far to reach adulthood surrounded by the aural umbrella of pop music? Their parents never bothered to find new icons or voices; they seemed content enough reliving their youth through their Elvis and Beatles records. Surely the generation reaching their twenties and thirties right now can see how pathetic this was, and is searching for an alternative.

On their latest album, "This is Hardcore," Pulp dives to the bottom of the rock quagmire and begins to drag up the pieces of a rock philosophy for those who lead singer Jarvis Cocker might call "the aged" (accent on the "-ed" ending, natch). Fortunately, he doesn't try to put those pieces together. The master stroke of this album (and of most great art) is that it provides no answers; the clues are there, but it's up to the listener to piece them together. It's clear what one must lose as age advances; there are vicious send-ups of the hard partying lifestyle ("Party Hard") and of hollow nostalgia ("Glory Days," NOT a Springsteen cover by any means). But ultimately, the solutions to this puzzle are never provided.

Cocker's lyrics stray away from his usual focus on the class tensions dividing England, and find themselves wandering into interesting new territories. "A Little Soul" rips off the opening lick from Smokey Robinson's "Tracks of My Tears" and features a man advising his son not to imitate his irresponsible style of living: "I'd love to help you/But everybody's telling me/You look like me/But please don't turn out like me." In "Dishes," he plays the role of a "man who stays home and does the dishes," perhaps a former rocker who's settled in to live a quiet life in suburbia, and will never again stand in the pop spotlight. A lyrical snippet from "Dishes," regarding the realistic life of adulthood and its bittersweet contrast with the fantasy-propelled existence of one's youth, could sum up the record's thematic approach: "I'm not worried that I will never touch the stars/Cause stars belong up in heaven/And the earth is where we are."

Pulp as a rock band are in great form on "This is Hardcore," demonstrating a huge capacity for versatility between the slower numbers and the rock tunes. As compared to 1996's "Different Class," this album adopts a baroque, blurry production style. The instruments don't slice through one another to take prominence in the mix, but instead blend together, melting into a unified, hazy sound that's reminiscent of early Bowie. On the traditional Pulp creepy stalker numbers, such as the title track and "Seductive Barry," this smoky production approach adds a great deal of ambience and tension to the music and Cocker's frightening whisper.

So, is there life for aging rockers? Jarvis Cocker and Pulp seem to think so, and they're trying to figure out how to approach existence as both a rocker and a senior on "This is Hardcore." It's an incredibly mature album that advances leaps beyond the band's previous work to place Pulp firmly in the pantheon of vital British pop artists. Though I'm sure Jarvis is more worried about how long he'll last on Earth and what he'll do when he's eighty, it might not be surprising if this album outlives he and his bandmates by a stretch. After all, elderly rock stars will always need advice on how to live life without tipping into self-parody.