Goldfrapp - Supernature

Genre rock Publisher Mute Records External Links Official Site Mute Records

Not so long ago I listened attentively while a buddy of mine accurately described Oscar-winning actress slash uber-Afrikaner goddess of love and war Charlize Theron as: "So unthinkably erotic she's been slick tanned by the sweat from all the sex she's had," and for my money, at least, there's no better phrase in the English language with which to describe the Kama-Sutra of sound that is Allison Goldfrapp's singing voice.

For the sake of my own exceptionally fragile (read: exceptionally married) and now exceptionally switched-on peace of mind, I would like to be able to claim that the above was merely the hyperbolic praise of a devoted fan. Fortunately, that's simply not the case.

The plain truth of the matter is simply that each and every sonic issuance from breaths of Allison Goldfrapp, (the dulcet half, as opposed to the drum and bass half, of Britain's post trip-hop-electro-porn-pop duo Goldfrapp), is more like a woman's orgasm than a woman's orgasm.

Trust me and keep reading; I couldn't make up a lie like that if I wanted to.

Earlier in the summer, I either read or wrote (it can be difficult to remember which sometimes) a lengthy rant that rather favorably compared Husky Rescue's album Country Falls to Goldfrapp's Felt Mountain and one of their kittenish lead vocalists to "Allison's little sister," and while I'm still prepared to defend Country Falls as a damn fine but sadly overlooked LP, I'd like to formally retract the aforementioned ill-advised comparison.

Hearing the real thing in action again has cleared my head and today, it reminds me of nothing so much as the kind of deliberation malfunction involved in comparing Monica Belluci to a mortal woman.

More importantly...having already produced the greatest chill-out album of them all as 2000's Felt Mountain, as well as its often unfairly maligned follow-up, 2003's Black Cherry, Will Gregory and his viscerally sexualized cohort have returned with their newest LP Supernature.

Given the vast expanse of musical expression separating Supernature and their universally acclaimed freshman release, any fans who skipped their sophomore effort will certainly be somewhat confused by the outlandish electronic-erotica vibe their latest album fortunately wears very much on its sleeve.

That Felt Mountain was a true masterpiece of muted sensuality and indelible absinthe drowned 50s/60s dreamscapes haunted by Marlene Dietrich, John Barry's James Bond and Danger: Diabolik-era Ennio Morricone. The record was such an overpowering musical experience, it's made Goldfrapp's seemingly sharp veer into 70s/80s glam pop a difficult pill for some to swallow.

The key to the band's supposedly abrupt transformation seems to have been a lonely track on Disc 2 of the "Limited Edition" Import-only version of Felt Mountain called "U.K. Girls (Physical)”a tongue-in-cheek take off on the Olivia Newton-John hit of yesteryear.

Seemingly recorded sometime after the rest of Felt Mountain, for reasons unknown, "U.K. Girls" caused Allison to ever so briefly abandon the coy torch song flirt that'd help land their album on so many of that years' ten best lists for the more orgasmic than orgasms song styling I mentioned earlier. One can only assume that immediately thereafter, being a red-blooded male, Gregory did his best to coax her into making said sound again and again and again. Wouldn't you?

The results all of that presumed persuasion can be heard in around 50% of what was Black Cherry (denying fans a full dose of either the new or earlier vibe hence the unfair derision), but now, it pervades every freaking note-second of what is Supernature. It's an unapologetic "glam fantasy," 43-minutes and 16-seconds of erection inducement and easily one of the sexiest albums ever made.

Or, let me put it this way: the sounds on Supernature may very well be sexier to hear than the best of Shakira's videos are to watch. Allison's voice is to lust what Sade's is to longing. My wife hasn't been safe since I popped it into the CD player. Recent memory's so-called sexiest albums (Air's Moon Safari springs immediately to mind) are literally non-existent by comparison. The Prince of today only vaguely remembers attempting to venture into the acoustic territory it inhabits. Understand?

If by any of the above, you were to infer that Will Gregory does not carry his share of the load, you would be absolutely incorrect. On tracks ranging from the Donna Summer-by-way-David Bowie at his sleaziest opener of "Ooh La La" to its coquettishly disturbing animal-loving ode "Ride A White Horse" to the stiletto heeled ride down of "Satin Chic" Goldfrapp gives up an album that even Roxy Music on ecstasy would've been hard pressed to produce an equal to.

Though it's not as "worthwhile" an effort as Felt Mountain, because even in the wake of the highest possible praise, it's impossible not to admit that an accomplished search for truth and beauty will always be just a bit more admirable than a search for carnal satiation, fleeting escape and a pony with species boundary issues, Supernature is not an album to be either missed or lightly dismissed.

The feats of aural stimulation it manages will no doubt be thoroughly under-valued by some, who'll fail to see the merits of such an utterly Dionysian exercise, preferring instead the pre-adolescent boasting-n-tease that adult sexuality has become-or perhaps the navel gazing genius of Thome Yorke and his ilk. Either way, they will have missed the point.