Alison Goldfrapp sweeps on to the stage of Edinburgh’s Usher Hall, draped in a sequin-infused sheer black cloak, wrapping the all-seated audience under her teasing spell of cinematic grandeur, decadent cabaret, creepy carousel and trip-hop ambience.
Her presence encapsulates a Dietrich-inspired silver screen glamour rather than Disney’s De Vil, no doubt a great relief for Edinburgh’s spotted dog population who can now sleep easy and stop planning their escape routes to the Queensferry Crossing.
It really does feel more like a night at the opera than a gig to celebrate Felt Mountain, 2000’s Mercury Prize nominated album which set Goldfrapp, Alison’s collaboration with Will Gregory, on their 22 year journey to this tour. Gregory doesn’t play live often and is absent tonight, but beyond the veil of fog lurks an eight-piece backing band which includes a string quartet, adding to the sumptuous orchestral sound essential to Felt Mountain.
A hush falls over the audience as the haunting opening chants of the title track transport us to some euphoric setting between the Swiss Alps and a Parisian bar. Well who’d have thought yodelling could be so wonderfully mesmerising? A tear threatens to surface as Alison’s enchanting wails echo around the ornate walls of the Usher Hall. Her cloak swishes about as she swings between a standard mic and synth option to hit those exhilarating high notes, her arms guiding her up the peaks with an elegant melodrama.
The chilling Paper Bag is up next, dripping with sensual, airy vocals which fall into space, hypnotising the audience in a dreamlike atmosphere. Pilots sees Alison pitch for the domed ceiling, straight out of the Bond film that never was. Deer Stop is unsettling, the divinely off-kilter chord changes and contorted, cold, scuzzy vocals reminiscent of Portishead, and evoking images of the seedy Berlin nightclub scene of the 1920s. Human completes the first run of Felt Mountain numbers, as Alison spits her lines like Shirley Bassey with a frenzy of Bond-style strings, the quartet dramatically flicking their bows at intervals between the cries of ‘Are you human, or a dud? / Are you human, or d’you make it up?’.
A number of tracks from their other albums follow, most of which are perfectly selected to compliment the theatrical and ethereal feel of Felt Mountain. Black Cherry’s delightfully dreamy Hairy Trees invokes a taste of Broadway as spotlights adorn the stage, while the more folk-inspired Eat Yourself, from Seventh Tree adds another element to the mix, with oozing, contemplative vocals, and a sound more familiar to Big Thief than the big screen. Topping off this section nicely, Alison seduces the crowd with the woozy Black Cherry. Just delicious!
The spell is finally broken when she dashes off into the wings before returning a minute or so later to some bloke chanting “Alison!” like she’s some third division football team. She explains that she’d had a costume malfunction…ah, nice one Alison, I imaging that’s a toilet break to us mere capeless mortals.
We’re spellbound once more from the opening keys of the astonishing and timely Utopia, Alison’s velvet-lined vocals betraying the unsettling lyrics about genetic engineering, with the line ’I’m wired to the world / that’s how I know everything’ eerily more relevant now than when written. It’s a triumphant performance, the audience awestruck as she takes a bow on the closing bar. Keeping up momentum and completing the set is Felt Mountain’s opening track Lovely Head, which fills the auditorium with its exquisite gothic ambience, Alison smouldering her way through the lines which end with surely one of the the greatest compliments ever in ‘Frankenstein would want your mind / your lovely head’. To my horror, eyeliner’s trailing down my cheeks, yep it was going to happen during this number if any! It’s hard to be impartial when it comes to Lovely Head and Utopia as I’ve played them together on repeat for 22 years now, only ever matched by the epic Lux Prima by Karen O & Danger Mouse, which compliments these two treasures perfectly in my own humble opinion.
Changing pace completely, the encore sees Alison whip off her cloak and give the string quartet their marching orders. She cries “you can get up now” to the ecstatic crowd as she stomps to the synth-pop beats of Anymore and fan favourite Ride a White Horse. The stalls erupt in a wave of movement, chairs and inhibitions abandoned. By last number, the pounding glam rock of Strict Machine, strobes stalk the hall as the circle shakes and party atmosphere takes over, ending the evening with an entirely different beast to how it began. But simmering in the shadows is a final reminder of Goldfrapp’s darker side with the menacing carnival organ of Felt Mountain’s Oompah Radar piping through the speakers as we head out the doors, in awe of a short but truly stunning performance.
Goldfrapp are still touring, catch them if you can! And if you get a move on, you might even manage to pick up one of their lush, limited edition Felt Mountain LPs… on gold vinyl of course.
Words: Shirley Mack @musingsbymarie
Pictures: Calum Mackintosh