The ones that got away

What makes someone walk out on their bandmates at the very height of their success? Dave Simpson talks to four musicians who turned their backs on money and fame

'We became Jarvis's backing band'
Russell Senior
Guitarist-songwriter, Pulp, 1983-1997

After playing together for years, the Sheffield band were catapulted to success with 1995's No 2 hit Common People. The following year, singer Jarvis Cocker's personal fame hit supernova levels when he waggled his bottom in front of Michael Jackson at the Brits. Everyone around Pulp assumed the band would keep on getting bigger and bigger - but Senior decided to quit.

For years, we spent a lot of time in Transit vans. But suddenly it was all gold discs, condos, famous mates and people whose reality comes from cocaine, telling you you're great, night after night. I felt a revulsion for it. We were doing songs about Common People and it was, "Jarvis, Prada's on the phone, they've got your outfit."

The last concert I did with Pulp was a corporate gig for a lager company in Barcelona. We were put up in a fantastic hotel, there were supermodels hanging around, but we were playing for bored executives. I felt myself backing away.

There were other things, such as awards ceremonies where somebody's coke dealer has nicked your limo and you have to walk home because the record company are looking after Jarvis. We had become his backing band. Previously, the music always came collectively, from creative clashes, but I think Jarvis believed his own press and suddenly he was coming in with his own tunes. I didn't think Help the Aged was worthy of following Common People, so I sabotaged it by playing blues guitar in the studio.

Thereafter I thought, "All right, smartypants. Let's see how big a genius you are." I put myself up in a small hotel in London, asked Jarvis to meet me and told him I was leaving. I think the band were relieved, to be honest, because the atmosphere had become so poisonous - although treating my departure as if they had lost a plectrum was a bit hurtful. The day I left, I physically collapsed. I felt like one of those cartoon characters who have run off a cliff, and only start falling once they look down.

I've got a songwriting credit on Common People, but I'd be struggling if I didn't work at all now. I've produced bands, but nobody any good. I've sold antique glass and I am writing a novel. I've no regrets. It would have been harder if they had succeeded. [Pulp released just one more album, We Love Life, in 2001]. And I'd rather holiday in Scarborough than in Venezuela. I am proud of the records with my name on. But they say living well is the best revenge.