Alison Goldfrapp's stomping electronica is replaced by a mellower mood

Published on Friday 6 June 2008 18:13

'IF YOU'RE a woman you have to fight that much harder to get things across," says Alison Goldfrapp as she offers me a glass of water and makes herself comfortable. "That's why I'm opinionated – you have to be to get your voice heard. It's a fact."

Meeting Goldfrapp is a nail-biting business. She has a reputation for giving the media short shrift. She often wears sunglasses during interviews, is renowned for guarding her privacy, and likes to keep her age a mystery. Today, however, she's a chatterbox by comparison. When asked about taking time out following the huge success of Goldfrapp's last album, Supernature, she sets me straight there too: "That whole thing about relaxing and having more time and space… pah! There comes a point where I'm itching to write, and that's why I do it. It's not about taking a year out, it's something I need to do. I think we're on more of a mission than our record company sometimes."

There is a quintessentially English, dry-witted cosiness about Goldfrapp, though she is also more spaced-out than I had expected – more Julie Walters channelling Kate Bush than Marc Bolan seducing Marlene Dietrich, as she has been described in the past.

During the course of the interview I may not discover her age – "as soon as people know how old you are, they start forming opinions on what you're supposed to be doing" – but I do discover that she wants to visit the Highlands, has moved from Bath back to London to be closer to her friends, has heard haemorrhoid cream works wonders on tired eyes, and that her mother, who is in a wheelchair, comes to the band's shows and waves at her from a podium at the back of the audience. Her sunglasses, it should also be noted, remain on the table.

This more mellow Goldfrapp goes hand in hand with the band's more mellow sound recently. She seems delighted with their latest album, the deliciously woozy, pastoral and psychedelic Seventh Tree, which is such a departure from the all-out dystopian disco stomp of Supernature. It is, in many respects, their best yet. Typically for this avant-garde duo (the other half is Will Gregory, a benign, bearded and bespectacled fellow who is also here today and makes a very fine coffee), as soon as the monster success of Supernature reared its head – Kylie wriggled into its glam-rock aesthetic, Madonna clicked her fingers and became Oldfrapp – they gleefully slayed it.

Goldfrapp as a band have always embraced change. "We don't look back," they say at one point in unison – but this is their most drastic metamorphosis yet. "I invented an image that I was tired of," says Goldfrapp, who is more likely to be wearing kaftans and sandals during this summer of touring than the catsuit she was sewn into for Supernature's 'Ooh La La' video that was so tight she had to pee into a cup. "I find the idea of being pinned down by a certain look really claustrophobic. I needed to strip off all these layers that I had managed to attach to myself. I felt like it wasn't appropriate any more; also because of what was going in my personal life." Later, I probe her on this, steeling myself, but she confides: "I went out with a complete arsehole, basically. There's always one in your life, isn't there? Well, this was a really big one."

How are audiences coping with what Gregory calls the "pindrop stuff"? "At a gig recently, at a really intense moment in the middle of a song some bloke shouted out: 'Oi! Step it up!'" Goldfrapp says, rolling her eyes. "I was like, 'You're at the wrong gig, mate.'" "Yeah, get with the programme," laughs Gregory, though they confess they were worried that no one would be interested in Seventh Tree.

"We thought no one would turn up to the gigs," says Goldfrapp. "But we thought, whatever, we've got to do this and if no one f***ing buys it then… hey-ho."

Here's another oddity. Alison Goldfrapp actually looks like Alison Goldfrapp. This is strange considering that what people most often say about one of the biggest style icons of British music – think horse tails, stack heels, billowing bellbottoms – is how ordinary she looks in person. Dressed in jeans, loose top, vintage scarf and trainers, she is instantly recognisable today with her porcelain doll eyes and Shirley Temple curls. Four albums in, her public and private selves are inching closer together, though she still doesn't get recognised in the street.

Mind you, why people ever expected her to don a cocked hat and whip to go out for a pint of milk remains a mystery, especially to her. "That image seemed to create a lot of expectations from other people," she says. "It was fun and it felt good but I didn't expect everyone to take it so bloody seriously."

"For us, going to make music is like going to a dressing-up box," adds Gregory. "You can put anything on, and that's the point. As soon as you start going for the same costume, it's not as fun."

Goldfrapp always knew what she wanted to do. She grew up in Hampshire and was the youngest of six, surrounded by art and music though these were seen as things to appreciate, not to 'do' for money. She remembers singing at convent school and being praised for it. "Someone patted me on the back and said that's good, and I thought wow, I love this and people think it's good. What a f***ing result! I was crap at everything else."

After that came years of drifting, art school, moving around, plus an alleged period of glue sniffing and stealing a tractor. She sang with Orbital and Tricky and received offers to join numerous bands before eventually meeting Gregory.

Her father introduced her to music and would gather the family around to listen to a symphony or opera. He died when she was 24 and never got to see her perform as Goldfrapp. "He did see me in Belgium imitating an opera singer in this dance piece," she says, doing an impression of his blustering, confused response. "Supportive but noncommittal," translates Gregory.

After almost a decade working together, the relationship between Goldfrapp and Gregory seems very close, very respectful, and very sweet. What might have been had they not met and made the astonishing, cinematic debut album Felt Mountain in 2000? "A TV composer with a terrible chip on my shoulder," muses Gregory. As for Goldfrapp, "I'd be an alcoholic hairdresser, cutting great lumps out of people's heads with bitterness and frustration." v

The new single, Caravan Girl, is released June 30. Goldfrapp play Glasgow Royal Concert Hall, the same day, then Hydro Connect festival, August 31 www.goldfrapp.co.uk