Goldfrapp - Seventh Tree

Goldfrapp - Seventh Tree (February 26th, 2008)

Rating: 8.7 out of 10 trees

The popular trend in reviewing Goldfrapp’s fourth record, Seventh Tree, involves spending a good deal of time stating what is likely obvious even to the completely deaf: Seventh Tree is not Supernature Redux. If the warm, hazy cover (which features Alison-- the duo’s namesake, vocalist, and most recognizable face--in a pirate hat and white tunic) doesn’t clue the purchaser in, everyone should be caught up by the time the final notes of the lush, orchestral opener, “Clowns,” have sounded.

Though it is perhaps not quite as obvious, Seventh Tree is also not—as many reviews have declared—simply a return to the band’s debut album, the dreamy, cinematic, and sometimes cold Felt Mountain. Though the two albums may share, at times, a preference for down-tempo songs and an arty difficulty, Seventh Tree is a more accessible project that finds its beauty in organic instrumentation (Seventh Tree marks the first-ever appearance of an acoustic guitar on a Goldfrapp album!) and a more straightforward approach to lyrical craft.

The words “folk” and “psychedelic” have been thrown around (sometimes by the band members themselves) to describe the inspiration for Seventh Tree, and though there are references to these genres, a 60s folk record this is not. What Seventh Tree has in common with a Nick Drake album is the presence of an acoustic guitar (“Clowns,” “A&E” etc.) and not much else. It shares more with the warmth and nostalgia of The Kinks are the Village Green Preservation Society, but even that offers only a shallow comparison. Goldfrapp, with one finger marking the page of past influences, offer up an entirely modern and personal record that looks forward as much as it looks back.

Opener “Clowns” is a slow but striking track, featuring a nearly indistinguishable, Kate Bush-channeling lyrical contribution from Alison. A glance at the lyrics may initially prove shocking, as the song appears to be about, well, breasts. Well, not just breasts, really, but a voyeuristic culture’s obsession with them and with “car crash television,” in which the physical and emotional disfigurements of “real” people serve as entertainment and comic relief for those who just can’t look away. And herein lays the beauty of “Clowns”: The almost humorous lyrical content paired against the subtle and undeniably gorgeous music.

The following track, “Little Bird,” is the only track that earns a description of “psychedelic.” It tells the tail of a crow with “two mouths for eyes” who visits a woman and lends her his wings so that she may fly away. The climax of the song is a kaleidoscopic trip that kicks out from the speakers with an unexpected force, one of the few moments on the album where a song’s energy is directly related to the loudness of the music.

Second single “Happiness” is a tongue-in-cheek send up of the cultish quest for satisfaction set to a glorious march, again illustrating the band’s fondness for pairing coy poetry with rich, interesting sounds.

“Eat Yourself,” a standout track, evokes a warm, crackling image of an era long past. Like “Clowns,” parts of the lyrics are incredibly difficult to understand, though brief lines break from obscurity: “Silver jet in the sky,” “You went south on the train / she wore plastic boots for rain.” A closer look at the lyrics reveals a darker tone and a possible theme of self-destruction, which makes the song even more potent and striking.

“Cologne Cerrone Houdini” and “Monster Love” are the last two great tracks on Seventh Tree, the former an airy, Serge Gainsbourg-refrencing romp that wouldn’t feel totally out of place on Felt Mountain, and the latter a perfect closing track, which features a chorus of “This is where we start and where we end.” So effective is “Monster Love” as a closer that it could also—God forbid—serve to punctuate Goldfrapp’s entire discography. As baseless and terrifying as that thought is, the band couldn’t choose a more beautiful platform from which to wave goodbye.

Unfortunately, the band’s fondness for beautiful sounds weakens Seventh Tree almost as much as it empowers it. The pretty but bland “Road to Somewhere” and “A&E” feel ripe for playing in the background of an especially emotional Grey’s Anatomy episode, where no one is going to pay much attention but will still think “Oh, hey, that’s kind of nice, that song.” “Some People” features a stellar lyrical element, though its music—orchestral swells and all--doesn’t capture the intensity or the uniqueness that “Clowns” and “Eat Yourself” offer. “Caravan Girl,” the penultimate track, is by far the cheeriest and most accessible ditty of the collection. So clean and poppy is the song, it is practically an anomaly when compared to the rest of Seventh Tree.

At best, Seventh Tree holds its own against Goldfrapp’s most beloved work (Felt Mountain and parts of Black Cherry); at worst, it is weakened—if only slightly—by inconsistency and a tendency toward slickness. What remains exciting, however, is that Goldfrapp still show signs of great creativity and an ability to reinvent themselves and their sound. Seventh Tree fits perfectly into the Goldfrapp oeuvre in that it doesn’t really seem to fit in at all. As long as Goldfrapp are unhappy repeating themselves, it’s almost certainly a safe bet to assume that their fans will always remain happy. Either that, or we all join a cult.