Goldfrapp @ The Palais (26/09/2008)

Critiquing live music is always interesting. It seems the less you enjoy a show, the more you want to talk about it. Who knows why? Perhaps the best way to purge the memory in all its gory glory is to have a long winded bitch. Equally interesting is the fact that the pattern also operates in reverse: Great gig? Less to say. It makes sense, really. After all, how many times can you acclaim to your mates “It was SO awesome!”? With this in mind, it gives me great pleasure to preface that I aim for this review to be relatively short.

It has become a monstrous review-ism, but as we waited for Goldfrapp to take the stage the anticipation truly was palpable. The show wasn’t a sell-out, but a wild enthusiasm from the moderately sized audience seemed to fill the empty seats. It certainly contributed to the underground cultish vibe, which I first began to take note of when two goat masks and a giraffe head passed me in the foyer. The Palais was a perfectly theatrical venue for Goldfrapp. Strings of draping circus flags decorated the stage, which oddly enough I noticed before the pair of moose antlers raised high above a six piece orchestra. The space appeared to house something of a mediaeval celebration, accompanied by the swaying hum of bagpipes (of course…). Evidently even an empty stage can become a spectacle.

As our eyes adjust to the colourful sight, lights dim and a fanfare of applause welcomes six musicians lead by Will Gregory, each floating onto the stage in white pinafores. Following closely behind them, sporting her signature pastel pink silk poncho-sack complete with pom-poms, is Alison Goldfrapp. An ominous swell from Gregory’s violin cues the plucking of an elevated harp, and the set opens with the eerie Paper Bag; a favourite from their debut album Felt Mountain. Listening to Goldfrapp at home might have you convinced that theirs is a highly tailored, synthesized sound. You would be wrong. The precision of these musicians in a live setting is incredible, utilizing each instrument beautifully to create a uniquely imaginative result.
Soon after opening, Goldfrapp are interrupted by some minor sound difficulties which Alison extinguishes by addressing her audience, uttering “U-turn” into the mic as though it somehow explains the broken set? Good enough for me. They u-turn into another Felt Mountain venture Utopia, threatening to cast a spell over an audience who remain entirely seduced by Alison’s phenomenal soprano wailings. She stands pitched in front of a dizzying visual projection, holding firm to her microphone stand as though the storm of sound would otherwise carry her away. “We’re completely spaced out,” she shares. She was stating the obvious – the entire venue was completely spaced out. With that, the previous technical stumble was resolved and forgotten.

Pulling the plug on their spiritual vibe, Goldfrapp sucks the audience out from their suspension in space and escorts us towards the electro-pop of their third album, Supernatural, with KOKO. Again, Alison’s vocals are immaculate. She holds a kind of tormented expression as she stomps, paces and twirls on stage behind a wild mane of hair. Following through into the thumping Satin Chic, visuals of rushing lava hurtle over the musicians in blazing red and yellow light. Like a woman possessed, Alison crescendos into a fury of sound as the band deliver piercing trebles to accompany her vocals. There is something positively exorcising about the performance. In the spirit of no surprises, the audience absolutely ate it up.

It was after a short interlude of Seventh Tree releases Little Bird and Clowns that Goldfrapp seemed to think we were ready to dance, excavating their earlier rock sentiments with Number 1. Of course Alison tore it loose, void of any restraint as she worked the stage in her shiny pink tent. However it was Gregory that delivered a surprisingly stirring punch, ploughing away at his guitar and leading the classic audience clap. A blaze of white light illuminated hundreds of beaming faces.

“Do you guys know how to stand up?!” Ooh La La and Happiness keep our feet pushing on the floor for another stretch of Goldfrapp glamour-dance. It isn’t until the bass driven synth of Black Cherry’s Train that the aforementioned elevated antlers seemed to morph into a ritual animal sacrifice amongst an underground cult. The stage pulsed with sensuality fuelled by Alison’s electric performance, producing static soundwaves as she convulsed and spasmed playing with a magnetised frequency box. Although a certain childish innocence is threaded through Goldfrapp’s Seventh Tree, there can be no denying that Alison Goldfrapp hasn’t forgotten how to strut.

For an inevitable encore, Strict Machine picked up where Train left off. The performance was so hot it practically left welding sparks ricocheting around the stage. Surprisingly it was their closing song Some People which shone as a definite highlight. Alison might as well have been sitting at the end of your couch lulling you to rest, with a little help from a rolling cymbal and some angelic harmonies. Gentle purring from Will’s violin served as a parting kiss on the cheek. This one was stunning.

Well it would appear that there was plenty to say about Goldfrapp’s show. I suppose, to the detriment of my ‘measuring quality by quantity’ theory, I couldn’t help myself. It’s just that it was SO awesome!