Hear Again: Tyranny (For You).

Twenty years ago the Iron Curtain had been pulled back in Europe, the Berlin Wall had come down, maps were being actively redrawn, the entire world appeared to be shifting, and history itself — it was brazenly declared — was coming to an end. Some even dared argue it had simply reached its natural conclusion; Western liberal democracy had finally vanquished all possible alternatives. How fitting then that a sombre note of sober skepticism should sound from Front 242, one of the bands that perhaps best captured the pervasive paranoid mindset of the last Cold War decade. Not only were they perfectly equipped for the task, having honed their skills in manipulating multimedia in a manner akin to much larger propaganda outfits, but being Belgian also perfectly placed — in a small European state cobbled together like a collage of historical necessity — at the major intersection of European affairs.

"What's the horse on the shore waiting for?", inquires lyricist and main vocalist Jean-Luc De Meyer in the languid album opener Sacrifice, seemingly drawing a parallel between the new order, the (as it turned out) brief period of rejoicing that followed the collapse of the old, with the infamous wooden stratagem the cunning Achaeans unleashed on the Trojans. De Meyer, assuming the guise of a blinded sybil, then laments the loss of the future's predictability. Two decades on, his opening lines on Front 242's fifth album, Tyranny (For You), appear almost prophetic, as our world has indeed changed from half a century of clearly defined lines, locking the world's largest powers in a seemingly static battle, to a place so unpredictable few of us even dare to entertain visions of the future.

Doctor Fukuyama may well have been right about the end of history: he merely faltered on whose specific history was ending and when. Front 242 seem to pitch their tent in the "cyclical" camp, as indicated by the album's centerpiece Gripped By Fear; bringing closure to the so called Atomic Age with the assertion that every tyranny, every regime, every reign sooner or later falls. More often than not defeated by its subjects simply outliving it. But even as Front 242 sounded an "Achtung!" — "beware!" — quite different from the boomer nostalgia peddled by contemporaries U2 later that same year, history appeared to not only have caught up with the unbridled celebrations of free-market liberalism's "victory", but stood ready to repeat itself. Mere days before the release of Tyranny… , the Gulf War — which saw Belgian participation in coalition with 31 other nations — began in earnest.

The brief conclusion of this, the first war to be practically broadcast live to a global television audience, soon had other thinking-persons' pop groups (the Pet Shop Boys among them) reflecting on the stage at which humanity had now arrived, but despite De Meyer's opening lament that his "gift is of no use", Front 242 had (perhaps unwittingly) preempted the coming doomsayers of the 1990s with their last album of the 1980s. Yet Tyranny… is not completely a work of pessimism, as Rhythm of Time, the album's second track and the third and final single to be lifted from it (and in a sense its true opener, if Sacrifice is interpreted as merely an overture), unabashedly declares an unyielding belief in the human spirit.

"We believe in the future of the human race!", sing De Meyer and second vocalist and drummer Richard Jonckheere, making the track simultaneously a response to Boomer apologism as well one of the most positive songs in the Front 242 catalogue. Rather than pointing a finger, seeking to apportion blame, Rhythm of Time provides its own answers ("What's above? New planets to conquer!"), alluding again to the cyclical nature of time, and hinting at environmental issues as potentially being one of the "Achaean surprises" waiting in that suspicious looking wooden horse. The album's second half opens with the first single taken from it, Tragedy (For You), a track that uses a souring romantic relationship as a metaphor for environmentalism.

Such sudden frankness on an issue, reinforced by the unconventional video for Tragedy… directed by Dutch shutterbug and videographer Anton Corbijn, certainly wasn't expected of a band that had previously carefully avoided being explicitly political. But environmentalism could never have been far from the consciousness of musicians who, as legend has it, had once rehearsed in the garage of future environment minister of the Brussels-Capital Region Évelyne Huytebroeck — who also encouraged her friend and band member Richard Jonckheere's foray into local politics for the francophone green party Ecolo in the mid-1990s, as well as his candidacy in the Belgian general elections in 2007. Fittingly, it's future green-politician Jonkcheere that plays the lead in the Tragedy… video, alongside actress Maja van den Broecke.

Before the album proper is over, De Meyer's lyrics also identify spiritual, personal matters as another area of concern, with various systems of belief pouring in to fill the void left by "discredited" ideologies. (Though they may also be personal reflections on De Meyer's own exhaustion with and within the band.) Spiritualism as well as the murkier side of human mentality are identified as further "Achaeans" haunting the future's shores in the album's closer Soul Manager — perhaps more so in The Untold, one of the most distressing and menacing tracks recorded by Front 242 despite (or, perhaps, precisely because of) its unhurried pace and sparse arrangement. Both tracks reveal a band increasingly confident with the process of producing and mixing complex arrangements, the use of samples more subtle in their sourcing yet more deliberate in application.

Across the whole album the band's music moves away from being mainly driven by synthesisers to being dominated by samplers and digital effects processors in particular, attaining a vast, almost cavernous soundscape with percussive elements often far from their "traditional" positions in the mix. Indicating the direction the band would pursue in the future, Front 242 achieve an immersive listening experience on Tyranny… , highly conducive to being enjoyed via headphones but unfortunately not one that plays well on low-end systems with poor stereo separation. Tyranny… is also a culmination, a bookend of sorts, incorporating nearly all the themes, tropes, and methods Front 242 developed and utilised over the preceding decade.

Among these the most obvious are the image of a distorted, twisted visage on the sleeve (in this instance that of keyboardist Patrick Codenys immersed in in a plexiglass tank), echoing practically every original sleeve previously conceived by the band, and the collusion of sports with politics — tracing the Ur-Fascist urge to celebrate physical activity as more "noble" and "pure" than the "abstract", suspect sphere of intellectual endeavours — as well as the correlation between athleticism and dance. But Front 242 merely toy with loaded imagery and themes on Tyranny…, devising a series of pictograms (representing "Man", "Globe", "Struggle", "Time", "Target", and "Speed") to rival their well-established logo, even engaging in every tyrant's favourite tool of confusion by naming a track Moldavia for no other reason than to lend it a title wholly unconnected with its contents — and thereby draw attention to the very process of nomenclature.

Although the band had forsaken their "urban warrior" wardrobe for smart sports gear in the accompanying promotional material (having band members active in handball, road cycling, and squash, undoubtedly helpful) — created with long-time collaborator photographer Alain Verbaert — they maintained their "in-house" approach, manipulating the sleeve artwork on Commodore AMIGA computers (no doubt to the delight of the then flourishing AMIGA demo community). Creating every aspect of their art themselves, from music to visuals, with only the odd collaborator brought in from "outside" not only allowed the band complete control of their vision but also strengthened the impression of Front 242 as multimedia "terrorist cell", engaging in public consciousness manipulation similar to some of the era's much more powerful political, mass-media, and promotional entities.

The continuous emphasis on energy and movement, the athleticism inherent in dance and club music also hinted at where the band were heading next — at least musically. As with most of their previous albums, on Tyranny… Front 242 once again included different interpretations of the same piece of music, with Moldavia and Neurobashing essentially being two versions of the same track. Though this time the possibilities digital music production offered to deconstruct and reconstruct a track in perpetuity, echoing the constant reworking, "remixing", and turntablism which had began to permeate every dance club at the time of the album's release, seemed to preoccupy the band far more than before.

Not satisfied with the two variations included on the album, Front 242 also released a "suite" of four further permutations of Moldavia on the accompanying Mixed by Fear EP, under the title Dance Soundtrack Music: This World Must Be Destroyed (with a further two "work in progress", Beta-versions appearing on the North American Gripped By Fear promo CD). Similarly, Tragedy… was remixed into Neurodancer (a title, as most correctly assumed, inspired by William Gibson's Neuromancer) and Punish Your Machine — the latter version, assuming a life of its own, becoming an audience favourite in performance. A further experiment in seemingly endless dilution is the album track Trigger 2 (Anatomy of a Shot), which appeared ahead of the album on the Tragedy… single in an alternative version dubbed Trigger 3, and as one of two "hidden" bonus tracks on the CD editions of Tyranny… (a version generally assumed to be Trigger 1).

While European editions of the album were released through Play It Again Sam subsidiary Red Rhino Europe (and their various intermediaries: Globus in Czechoslovakia, Nuevos Medios in Spain, Polydor in France, SPV in the rest of Europe), the Japanese editions on Alfa, the North and South American editions were released by Sony subsidiary Epic. The American major's gamble, signing the Belgians in the wake of their 1988 "breakthrough" hit Headhunter, paid off for label and band alike: within a month of its release Tyranny… sold in excess of 135,000 copies in the USA alone. It became Front 242's highest charting album in North America, despite it and its accompanying singles receiving very little airplay, charting at #95 and remaining on the billboard for 13 weeks. Both Tragedy… and Rhythm of Time reached #11 on the dance singles chart (higher than Headhunter, which only reached #13), with the latter even being included in the film Single White Female the following year. The moderate commercial success combined with the backing of a major label more importantly allowed the band the stage their most elaborate and extensive tour to date, with 76 concerts performed over seven months in Europe and North America.

Though formally known as the Tyranny Tour, it was quickly dubbed "la tournée de la pyramid à hélice" — "the tour of the propeller pyramid" — for the most prominent feature of the stage set designed by Jean-Luc De Meyer's younger brother Marc. An established artist in his own right, De Meyer the younger had devised a flexible set of 52 wood panels mounted on an aluminum framework, whose various podiums and structures could be adapted to the suit numerous stages differently. Decorated by Marc in oil, polyurethane, and latex to resemble surfaces of antique bronze and oxidized copper, the set was dominated by the infamous "exhaust-fan" structure that wouldn't have been out of place in the finale of Blade Runner. It was the largest investment Front 242 had made in lighting and scenography until then, and perhaps the clearest evidence of the band's ability to finally approach promotors of their own accord rather simply being "invited over" or to "open up" for other acts.

Having established their tyranny not only over their machines (as suggested by the aforementioned Punish Your Machine), but also over their domain, their particular method of producing music, Front 242 consolidated their strengths on Tyranny (For You). With four of the six main songs on the album being constructed around similar long accent leitmotifs embellished by various ostinait and numerous percussive elements, it's easy to suggest that the band really wasn't breaking much new ground and that in some ways the album was Front 242's swan song. As purveyors of multimedia collages, picking through the massmedia detritus collecting at the crossroads they inhabited, Front 242 were at one point a quintessential Cold War pop group. Capturing the zeitgeist with some of the same tools and methods employed by the era's prevalent powers, skillfully manipulating sounds and images, exploiting the fears and anxieties of their audience.

With the old divisions gone, the besieged mentality seemingly outdated, and the whole continent (if not the entire world) suddenly turning into one massive love-parade techno-party, the "imperial phase" of Front 242 appeared to be over. Even the band themselves admitted at the time that Tyranny…, collating and compounding a decade's worth of Front 242 endeavours, was a tad "nombrilique" — "navel-gazing" — at times. Yet it presents the techniques honed by Front 242 during the 1980s at their peak. As the "annual reports" of Throbbing Gristle, the progenitors of industrial music and an influence on Front 242 (and whose Peter Christopherson (1955 - 2010) directed the Rhythm of Time video), Tyranny… is a conclusive report on a decade that saw the end of certain types of hegemonies, and hints of others waiting to rise — just as the sneaky Achaeans patiently did inside their wooden horse.

Industrial Complex.

Referring to Nitzer Ebb's new album as a "comeback" can hardly be fair, given the degree to which the band's principal members have been busy making music. Douglas McCarthy developed his project with Terence Fixmer, and lent his distinct voice to recordings by Recoil, Kloq, Motor, and Warren Suicide, while Vaughan "Bon" Harris kept busy with his Maven project, remixed Godhead, Depeche Mode, and Julien-K, produced recordings by 13 Mg. and Billy Corgan, and recorded sessions with the Smashing Pumpkins, Marilyn Manson, Evanesence, and the Lemon Ensemble. Drummer Jason Payne worked with Maven, the Wild Colonials, the Eastside Sinfonietta, Sugar To Poison, Kamaal Malak, and Le Fin Du Monde.

In other words, though they didn't exclusively work together under the Nitzer Ebb moniker, the band's members hardly fell off the face of the Earth. Yet fifteen years is an absence long enough for an entire new generation of listeners to emerge, and the context within which Nitzer Ebb once operated — never mind the industry — to completely change. While older fans may consider the band's previous recordings inimitable classics, younger ears may only regard them a mere curiosity; a fact that represents a major challenge to any pop artists who decide to record new music after a long break. That said, Nitzer Ebb's new album not only recaptures but also enhances the band's particular strengths, enough to amply satisfy old fans and sufficiently impress (or at least startle) contemporary electronic music audiences.

A stark difference the band must've encountered would be the lack of anything remotely reminiscent of the recording industry they'd left behind. Practically the entire nature of recording and disseminating music — whether serious or popular, mainstream or alternative — has irrevocably changed in the past decade. Clearly seeking to adapt, Nitzer Ebb opted for allowing the odd new track trickle out through various new modes of marketing, rather than releasing singles to market their new album in the once established fashion.

Ironically, Once You Say, their first new recording to be aired, premiered in a most traditional fashion on DJ Dave Clarke's White Noise show (part of VPRO's 3voor12 programming on Netherlands' 3FM) in June 2007. With broadcasting as well as reception now largely being digital, copies of the track (in various states of compression, and the 3FM call sign occasionally edited out) quickly spread among fans. Apart from being the first new Nitzer Ebb track in a dozen years, it quickly garnered further buzz for featuring backing vocals by Depeche Mode's principal composer Martin Gore. A collaboration apparently arrived at when the band concluded the track needed a powerful gospel voice to be completed, and Gore was the first person in that category they could think of.

Next, an alternative version of Payroll appeared on the Saw IV soundtrack (and the Advanced Electronics vol. 6 compilation) in the fall of 2008, having been performed — as was Once You Say — during Nitzer Ebb's live performances the previous year. The album opener Promises was included on the first soundtrack of the television series NCIS in February 2009, Never Known appeared on the Saw VI soundtrack, while an alternative version of that track was released on a limited edition USB flash drive — which also included an alternative version of Down On Your Knees. With nearly half of their new recordings acting as product placements after this newfangled fashion, one could be forgiven for regarding Industrial Complex itself as a compilation album. (Which, to further the irony of the relentless changes ripping through the recording industry, is what all long-playing albums once were.)

In keeping with the band's new, "corporate" image — frustrating what few completists remain out there in a most cunning fashion — there are two versions of the album available (not counting digital varieties, and the strictly limited picture disc edition): a red-sleeved single-disc "tour edition" as well as a white-sleeved two-disc edition. Each has additional North American and European permutations, with the contents of the two-disc edition's bonus disc of alternative versions of some of the album's tracks differing depending on whether one procures the "regular" European or the "special" Belgian edition, while the North American two-disc edition is the only one to include the additional new track On the Road. However, the content and running order of the main disc are identical to that available from digital purveyors: the same eleven tracks with Traveling added as a "bonus".

Wrapped in Doug McCarthy's smart, stark design, centering on the graphic symbols of the World's four major reserve currencies (with the "€" and "£" replacing the "$" on the front of the European editions), Nitzer Ebb's new business-like demeanor contrasts with their past athletic, militant style in Emma Cohan's suggestive low light portraits. The commercial surface doesn't immediately betray the emotional content within; the failure, loss, defeat, shame, acceptance, and resurgence lurking beneath. (Curiously, McCarthy also casually employs the "she said" meme — commonly instantly adding a salacious twist to poorly defined sentences or thoughts — to surprisingly dramatic effect on a couple of the album's tracks.)

McCarthy sings far more than bellows, his lyricism developed beyond adolescent sloganeering baiting and provoking with seemingly political themes, concentrating instead on the more personal tropes that began to emerge in earnest on the band's third album, 1990's Showtime. McCarthy doesn't merely lament failed relationships, he assumes responsibility for failure — a quality that's become as scarce in our society as civility, humility, and compassion. In fact, the courage with which Nitzer Ebb dare to present themselves vulnerable (as, for instance, on Going Away) is what raises them head and shoulders above practically every other band in their genre, the brashness coupled with guts to to express sentimentality without succumbing to self-pity.

For every ending, there's a beginning, and for all the insight into middle-aged companionship contained in a track like I Don't Know You — "I've been looking at my scars / You've got yours / Let's make them ours" — it could just as well be interpreted as advice to younger, less experienced ears: "I want to know you / I don't know you / but I want you to think more". Yet, while tracks like Once You Say and Down On Your Knees could also be interpreted as more than mere reflections on the politics of personal choice, it's perhaps with Payroll — the most North American-inflected track on the album — with it's exploration of the "we're all in this together" mentality that the band comes closest to purely political themes.

The time principal composer Bon's spent as a session hand, as well as studying composition, has payed off in a more varied palette, allowing for the melodious elements previously skulking around the band's music to spring forward — as in Hit You Back, an electro blues combining synth pop with hip hop, which takes on a full orchestral flourish towards its dramatic conclusion. Compared to Nitzer Ebb's last album of original recordings, 1995's Big Hit, guitars appear absent, the overall sound stripped back to the basic combination of electronic bass and percussion the band thoroughly exploited early in its career. Yet many of the sounds on this album have been sculpted much like those of conventional pop, rock, and blues recordings, with pretty much the same effects and devices.

The smart shaping of white noise and use of wavetables, seamlessly fused with acoustic percussion, is skillfully combined within a spacious, uncluttered soundscape (though occasionally compressed a tad hard) to create Nitzer Ebb's signature tight grooves from an impressively complex array of sounds. Produced by Bon with commercial composer John O'Herron (with input from the band's long-time collaborator Mark "Flood" Ellis, and former Sabres of Paradise and The Aloof veteran Jagjit Singh Kooner), Industrial Complex advances the broad variety of styles with which Nitzer Ebb have previously imbued their distinct, minimal take on pop music. Their youthful verve may have been tempered by experience, but Nitzer Ebb have lost not one iota of energy — as demonstrated by the furiously driving Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. Clearly not afraid to act their (total) age, their music is still very much industrial. Just more complex.

This is a slightly updated version of the article posted on March 12, 2010.

A Foolproof Escape Plan.

On his second album Yoav Sadan continues to reinvent guitar playing, with the technique he's devised for himself having, quite accidentally, come upon it pounding out rhythms for passersby in a park one day. Hitting, pulling, plucking, thumping, teasing, and only occasionally strumming or picking like a conventional player would, he uses his guitar as a rudimentary sound generator, rather than a traditional performance instrument.

Feeding the resulting sounds through the various electronic gadgets that make up his homespun sound-processing assembly, known as "The Beast", allows Yoav to perform practically every "instrument" heard on these recordings, and creates a vast, cavernous space for his songs to inhabit. His sound remains familiar, yet the style has matured, the system gained more complexity, and not every sound is teased exclusively from his battered guitar.

More importantly, Yoav's writing seems more focused, resulting in a more concise album than his somewhat sprawling 2008 debut Charmed & Strange. Whether this is the result of the inclusion of real additional instruments and musicians, or simply a lusher production, A Foolproof Escape Plan is a more cohesive album than its predecessor — easier to grasp particularly to listeners accustomed to the two conventional parts of a vinyl LP.

From the plucky blues of opener Greed, to the spooky Moonbike, or the wistful Country poignancy of Spidersong, and the Latin-inflected closer We All Are Dancing, a more dynamic soundscape expands, in which the additional "real" instruments and musicians detract little from the processed guitar noises. Yoav's palette has grown, the variety of sounds used increased, but the basic premise still hinges on his excellent voice accompanied by strong, memorable melodies arranged in a minimal fashion.

Musically, Yoav's machine-dependent plantar electro folk is quite similar to the ostinatos common in synth pop, his voice acting as counterpoint to the artificial motifs in many cases reminiscent of the long melody lines employed by bands like Depeche Mode. And though this seemingly folksy barefoot poet adds a heaping helping of contemporary R&B and Hip Hop, his unconventional approach is precisely what makes him one of the most innovative electronic pop musicians currently around.

Lyrically, the album's songs seek a means of leaving a world of uniform conformity, in which the highest ambition on offer is to be the most proficient consumer and nothing less. This is most clearly articulated in Greed, the ode to Western pop culture's happy-go-lucky emblem that is Yellowbrite Smile, and Safety in Numbers — the last in a way finishing the thought begun on Yoav's 2007 "breakthrough hit" Club Thing, though addressing a much broader context.

Yoav turns his most sentimental in 6/8 Dream and, particularly, Easy Chair, a dreamy rumination on the passing of time and the very Cape Town chair in which he began honing his guitar skills during his early teens. Which perhaps makes this an album of songs about discovering oneself and the world one has come to inhabit, more than an actual device for escape. Viewed as such, A Foolproof Escape Plan does indeed appear flawless.

Head First.

Goldfrapp's fifth studio album has so far been favourably regarded as a decent attempt to emulate the dizzying heights of Hi-NRG dancefloor rapture, and unfavourably regarded as a clear indication that the duo of Alison Goldfrapp and William Gregory have "fallen behind the curve": that Goldfrapp have ultimately run out of ideas. It seems many critics — who generally took their time warming to the band in the first place — seem particularly perturbed that a duo as talented and (now) highly regarded as Goldfrapp may actually admire all that octaval bassline stomp and 1980s MOR "pap" these critics themselves have spent much of their critical career deriding.

Never mind that Goldfrapp would actually take the time to carefully craft a recording not only inspired by, but sounding like, a long forgotten release from March 1984. Yet right from the very beginning, since their 2000 debut album Felt Mountain, Goldfrapp have excelled in seeking musical innovation through rejuvenation. While their latest album, Head First, successfully mimics those fluffy, airy recordings of great mainstream appeal, it cannot be accused of embodying their typical lack of technical and sonic merit.

Few of their imitators have applied such elegant flair to creating sounds that appear to belong in the past. The motifs and phrases heard on Head First do sound as though they could've been recorded thirty years ago, frequently evoking an imprecise sense of déjà vu. But the intricate detailing of the soundscape, the modelling of individual parts is quite contemporary: Goldfrapp's music invokes the past without actually imitating it. Even when refraining from breaking entirely new ground, or merely providing a fresh take on a familiar sound, Goldfrapp still have chunks of lesser bands in their stool.

Air, Daft Punk, and their ilk appear mere nostalgics, wishing to whisk their audience — but themselves in particular — into yesteryear, in comparison to Goldfrapp, who merely apply the past as window-dressing. In a sense, the duo operates like skillful scenographers, using a specific pop era as a prism through which the eternal themes of love, loss, and dancing are refracted. Criticising their method is akin to bemoaning the fact that one's favourite play has been transposed to a different era than that in which it was written in order to emphasise its message for a contemporary audience.

Though relentlessly compared to Van Halen's mid-1980s commercial pinnacle Jump, the album opener Rocket in fact has more in common with Steve Winwood's Valerie (like Rocket, faltering in the UK top 50 on its original release in 1982), and could be construed as a response to Kiss' 1977 macho-stomper Rocket Ride, dispatching its boasting self-proclaimed priapean champ in no uncertain terms. Hunt is the sole other Head First track mining a similar quietly retaliatory vein, while romantic infatuation remains the overarching theme. Interestingly for an album "set in the 1980s", it was recorded mainly with Belgian producer Pascal Gabriel, far more renowned for his work in house music at the tail-end of that decade.

Like their previous albums, Goldfrapp's latest isn't purely electronic so much as a smooth blend of electronic and acoustic instrumentation. Among its contributing musicians, listeners may notice Robert Plant's son-in-law Charlie Jones on bass (who also appeared on the last three Goldfrapp albums), guitarist Alex Lee (perhaps best remembered for his stint in Suede right before their break-up), former Black Grape drummer Gerard "Jed" Lynch, and violinist Davide Rossi, appearing on a Goldfrapp studio recording for the first time, having toured with the duo since its inception.

On the technical end, Richard "X" Philips, former UNKLE and Mo'Wax veteran Tim Goldsworthy and Goldfrapp's éminence grise Nick Batt (formerly of DNA) contribute programming, while veteran audio engineer Mark "Spike" Stent returns (having mixed Goldfrapp's 2005 album Supernature) to ensure a seamless mix. As is their wont, Goldfrapp's visual presentation reflects their current sound, and this album's graphics place Alison and Will head first among slightly surreal 1980s-pastel coloured clouds. The crisp, clean design was created by Alison with art director Mat Maitland, who's been involved with practically all Goldfrapp graphics, both in his own name and as part of the Big Active design studio.

Despite the early Eighties sheen, titles like Believer and Shiny and Warm could just as easily fit on previous Goldfrapp releases. There may be hints of Art of Noise's innovative sampler use, and the fairytale romances of Erasure (particularly in the album's title track paraphrasing Erasure's Rain), but Goldfrapp's particular sensibilities permeate every detail; Alison's deliberately obfuscated diction is as inimitable as it is suggestive. The critical ears of those nostalgic for the more idiosyncratic sound of Goldfrapp's debut may particularly find redeeming qualities in the closing Voicething, a companion piece to the preceding I Wanna Life, a collage of voice samples culled from the album's other tracks in the manner of Slippage, the final track on Goldfrapp's 2003 album Black Cherry.

If one were to lodge a complaint, it would concern duration: at barely 38 and a half minutes, Head First is Goldfrapp's shortest album to date (roughly a minute and a half shorter than Felt Mountain). As a consequence some of its titles seem a tad short as well, like the all too brief Shiny and Warm, a track that barely manages to get warm before it's suddenly over. Leaving listeners (and specifically dancers) pining for a future single release containing a substantially extended version of that particular track. However, given this album's narrative exploring the brevity of lightheaded bliss, that may precisely be the point.