Goldfrapp (Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory) have discarded the cheesy Eighties-style pop of their previous record. Alison also appeared to have toned down her wardrobe for this tour. Gone were the horses’ tails and Pierrot clown suits of old; this was a sartorially subdued outing to match the autumnal mood of new album Tales of Us.
Goldfrapp’s breathy vocal combined gloriously with the band and surging violins on Drew, which resembled the soundtrack to a torrid European art house film, and her otherworldly wail drifted over the spiralling melody of Stranger.
She became more physically expressive during the yearning of Clay, though her mystique remained intact. As a performance, it was technically faultless if a little uninvolving and aloof.
She seemed relieved to have got through these hushed new songs as she raised a glass and unleashed the dreamy disco of Yellow Halo. It was accompanied by some extraordinary lighting that drenched the venue in a hazy orange glow like a budget version of Olafur Eliasson’s 2003 Tate Modern installation.
Lasers punctuated the psychedelia of Little Bird and the juddering, Vangelis-style electronics of Thea, and fans were soon out of their seats for the throbbing synth-pop of Number 1.
“Are you allowed to do that?” Goldfrapp asked teasingly, which only encouraged them to keep dancing during the sassy stomp of Ooh La La from 2005 (recently resurrected for an iPhone advert).
The singer even shimmied herself for the astringent electro-pop of Strict Machine. She was still a bit of a mystery but at least Goldfrapp was enjoying her encore as much as we were.
