We could wax lyrical on Goldfrapp's new album, Head First, until 'the cows come home' (see above) but we have more important things to be getting on with, and quite often, if you've made up your mind, there's little point in trying to convince you. Head First is Goldfrapp's least good album, but it's still ruddy brill. The multilayered synths, the way the songs occasionally careen of in a direction you hadn't expected, the archly sarcastic faux-trite lyrics, Alison's breathy vocals, the lush strings. It's not a revolution, but it's a short, heady, tangy delight. Don't pre-judge.
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