Royal Concert Hall, Glasgow
4 stars
As The Wicker Man soundtrack plays, village fete bunting is draped across assorted harps, stuffed owls and a ribbon-strewn Maypole. Following the lush soft-focus of their fourth album, Seventh Tree, such a stage set confirmed that this is a wispier Goldfrapp to the leather-clad Glam diva of yore. Playing the day after being sandwiched between Neil Diamond and Leonard Cohen at Glastonbury, even without the choir, performing foliage and Pan’s People as directed by Lindsay Kemp pole-dancers, Goldfrapp remain a tantalisingly artful and awe-inspiring construction, whose mix and match approach to pop history goes beyond plagiarism or pastiche.
Visually too, they’re as much about rococo as retro. While the six-piece band (minus co-song-writer Will Gregory) resemble sun-worshipping nymphs, Alison Goldfrapp’s pink smock could double as angel wings, hospital robes and clown’s apparel depending on the song. Led by harp and violin, much has been made of Goldfrapp’s so-called folk influence. In fact, A & E and Clowns more resemble me-generation mantras with added pop-art edge and 21st century sheen. Live they’re allowed to breathe even more, with Little Bird’s extended Mellotron-styled wig-out sounding like Tomorrow Never Knows rebirthed by The Cocteau Twins, Happiness a sarcastic Pied Piper march on hippy gurus, and new single Caravan Girl a euphoric motorik chorale.
Switching gears, the pounding theremin squelch of Train and a glorious Strict Machine suggests messianic possession of the most lascivious kind. When Goldfrapp herself stretches out her arms, as her sleeves billow, you’re not sure if that’s devils or angels on her shoulder. The low-key encore that follows is the most soothing of come-downs, confirming Goldfrapp as the greatest purveyors of performance-art pop spectacle this side of Beltane.
The Herald, July 2nd 2008
ends
4 stars
As The Wicker Man soundtrack plays, village fete bunting is draped across assorted harps, stuffed owls and a ribbon-strewn Maypole. Following the lush soft-focus of their fourth album, Seventh Tree, such a stage set confirmed that this is a wispier Goldfrapp to the leather-clad Glam diva of yore. Playing the day after being sandwiched between Neil Diamond and Leonard Cohen at Glastonbury, even without the choir, performing foliage and Pan’s People as directed by Lindsay Kemp pole-dancers, Goldfrapp remain a tantalisingly artful and awe-inspiring construction, whose mix and match approach to pop history goes beyond plagiarism or pastiche.
Visually too, they’re as much about rococo as retro. While the six-piece band (minus co-song-writer Will Gregory) resemble sun-worshipping nymphs, Alison Goldfrapp’s pink smock could double as angel wings, hospital robes and clown’s apparel depending on the song. Led by harp and violin, much has been made of Goldfrapp’s so-called folk influence. In fact, A & E and Clowns more resemble me-generation mantras with added pop-art edge and 21st century sheen. Live they’re allowed to breathe even more, with Little Bird’s extended Mellotron-styled wig-out sounding like Tomorrow Never Knows rebirthed by The Cocteau Twins, Happiness a sarcastic Pied Piper march on hippy gurus, and new single Caravan Girl a euphoric motorik chorale.
Switching gears, the pounding theremin squelch of Train and a glorious Strict Machine suggests messianic possession of the most lascivious kind. When Goldfrapp herself stretches out her arms, as her sleeves billow, you’re not sure if that’s devils or angels on her shoulder. The low-key encore that follows is the most soothing of come-downs, confirming Goldfrapp as the greatest purveyors of performance-art pop spectacle this side of Beltane.
The Herald, July 2nd 2008
ends
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