There’s magic on Alison Goldfrapp’s debut solo album.
For such a long time, witches got a bad press.
Usually cast in the role of evil-doers and after a mock trial then dispatched in any number of gruesome ways, more often than not these were women who’d simply been abandoned by their communities, either through age or outliving their usefulness.
Dunked or roasted, this was a group of people who back in the day suffered badly from an image problem.
The press that accompanies The Love Invention casts Alison Goldfrapp as a, ‘dance floor priestess’, which is close enough to witch for us.
To rewind briefly though, despite being known mononymously since the release of Felt Mountain in 1999, that was the project Alison Goldfrapp shared with Will Gregory which between then and 2017 produced a further six albums, in the process earning four Grammy nominations and one Mercury nomination. This though is her first solo album. So now you’re up to date.
Whereas in the previous incarnation the emphasis was on constant evolution from the S&M electroclash of Black Cherry through Seventh Tree’s Pagan folk and beyond, the new brief is to head straight for the nearest party and soundtrack the hell out of it.
The even better news is that Ms. Goldfrapp is available for an immediate start, opener NeverStop’s shimmering bass pops and gossamer harmonies pressing the button marked diva almost as if there was never any choice.
The vibe is in trying to recapture the freedoms not caring about the future gave, Alison Goldfrapp confessing that the experience, ‘Makes me think of shiny cars, and that rush of energy and elation you have as a teenager’.
It’s a well-worn argument, but whether there’s a point in trying to give music with such a specific purpose meaning or not, the door to hedonism still swings both ways.
Beatific closer SLoFLo, wrapped in dream filled synths, is a rumination on embracing life as a journey, whilst Love Invention’s vocoder led four-to-the-floor chops are in abstract a jab at the style mags endless narratives around trivial self-improvement.
The counter point – I’m in the moment, don’t you dare make me think – is here however generally ascendent.
In Electric Blue mirrors the Euro-disco gloss of Royksopp, following on from Alison Goldfrapp’s recent turn on their multi-sensory Profound Mysteries triptych, the sophisticated haze of Hotel (Suite 23) is just as poolside and the seductive tech-house of Gatto Gelato is a reminder of the Black Cherry era’s restrained devotion to pleasure.
As with her hero Prince, Alison Goldfrapp is a lifelong disciple of the idea that music is the gateway to sensual exploration and in her own words: “I am a female of a certain age, and I think we’re made to feel like we shouldn’t talk about stuff like that..there’s a lot to be said for pure unadulterated, fun.”
Now we know we’re in the grown-up gratification business, the best tunes slide more clearly into focus. On Paul Woolford collaboration Fever the Kylie vibe is overwhelming but topped off suggestively with a banging retro-house aesthetic, whilst The Beat Divine eases back the tempo to a for lovers pace.
The undoubted peak though is So Hard So Hot, a funky, strutting gem written during 2022’s heatwave to which not dancing to has apparently been made against the law.
There she goes again, a lady expressing herself about things polite society frowns upon whilst twitching its curtains to look.
Unashamed and in your ear, on The Love Invention Alison Goldfrapp plays the role of a modern-day witch, casting a disco spell which you won’t want to be broken.
