GOLDFRAPP - Black Cherry

Some listens can hurt. Especially when expectations are sky-high, as is the case with the second album from British act Goldfrapp, fresh off one of the most dazzling pop gems of the last decade, that "Felt Mountain" capable of blending the cinematic sounds of John Barry and Ennio Morricone with the modern Bristol beat into a thoroughly evocative "dream-trip-hop".

Credit is due to the band for not cashing in on that winning formula, choosing instead to turn the page. "Black Cherry", in fact, veers toward a sensual electro-pop, not too distant a cousin of Garbage (and, by extension, of Blondie). But Alison Goldfrapp's transformation from shadowy forest priestess into languidly sexy performer only partly comes off. And in the metamorphosis of the "Black Cherry", unfortunately, the traces of that dark, arcane aura that made "Felt Mountain" magical get lost along the way. Blonde Alison remains a top-notch singer, make no mistake. A crystalline soprano, capable of climbing into sumptuous siren-like vocal runs. But cast as the sexy enchantress of "Black Cherry", she no longer seems able to convey the same dreamlike allure that songs like "Lovely Head", "Human" and "Utopia" once gave us.

The opening "Crystalline Green" still manages to hold onto that fatal pathos for a few moments, even if locked inside a solid wall of synths and robotic beats. But starting with the following "Train", the record's true face is already revealed: a hyper-mechanized pop, dominated by obsessive moogs, in which Alison seems ill at ease, as if the Kate Bush of "Wuthering Heights" had been trapped inside a techno earworm by Prodigy. The title track lets a few rays of sunlight filter through the opacity of the sound, thanks largely to Alison, whose vocal runs at times recapture the lyricism of "Felt Mountain". The Portishead-style scratches and the dark beat, on the other hand, fail to redeem "Tiptoe", which has the fault of trivializing Alison's prodigious voice (here split into two different vocal lines) by drowning it in an insipid melody.

If anything, it's "Deep Honey" that gives us back the bewitching, sensual chanteuse of "Utopia" and "Lovely Head", but it's only a brief parenthesis. With "Twist", in fact, things immediately slide into a brash synth-pop worthy of latter-day Garbage, seasoned with flashes of house and a sexually explicit lyric ("Put your dirty angel face/ between my legs and the lace of my underwear"...) that clashes tragically coming from the angelic Alison. In "Strict Machine" one can almost glimpse the ghost of Donna Summer's "Love To Love You Baby" behind a wall of synths and percussion, but it's a fleeting and, all things considered, unsettling vision. Lifting spirits somewhat is "Slippage", a "saturated" fusion of industrial beats and sensual sighs: an excellent exercise in style, but once again, what's missing is the soul.

The sounds are refined, the production is superb, but from a talent as gifted as Alison Goldfrapp one should expect much more, especially after having glimpsed her great potential along the spectral paths of "Felt Mountain".

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27/10/2006