One record at a time: 530. Alison Goldfrapp - Flux

Two years after "The Love Invention", Alison Goldfrapp returned in 2025 with "Flux", her second solo album and the first release on her own A.G. Records label. If her debut was a confident stride onto the dancefloor, Flux feels like a continuation of that journey, only with a little more depth tucked beneath the shimmer. The music is still sleek, synthetic and beautifully upholstered, but there is more space here, more atmosphere, and rather more gazing at the sky while quietly wondering what it all means. Which, frankly, feels very Alison Goldfrapp.

I pre-ordered the standard black vinyl from Alison’s webstore, lured in by the promise of an art print that turned out to be rather underwhelming and not quite as exclusive as advertised. Then I spotted the slightly more coveted 'acid yellow' version in a gatefold sleeve in HMV and, naturally, couldn’t resist. They even threw in a postcard, so really, what choice did I have?

As if further proof were needed of Richard X’s genius, he returns here as writer and producer, bringing with him that immaculate electro-pop sheen that sounds as though someone has taken a polishing cloth to a very expensive synthesiser. He is complemented by Swedish all-round clever clogs Stefan Storm, whose contributions help give the album its dreamy, Nordic shimmer. The icing on the cake is provided by the magnificent string arrangements of Davide Rossi, whose playing adds real emotional lift without ever making the record feel overstuffed.

Until I heard this album, I had not realised that Rossi works by recording all the string parts himself. He writes the arrangement, then records dozens of separate takes on top of one another. By slightly shifting his physical position and changing instruments, he creates the natural timing and pitch variations of a real live orchestra, while avoiding the phasing and other issues that affected bands like Electric Light Orchestra when they tried similar techniques back in the seventies. It is a wonderfully old-fashioned idea delivered with modern precision: one man painstakingly pretending to be an orchestra, which is either artistic genius or a very elaborate way of avoiding having to book a rehearsal room.

The album opens with “Hey Hi Hello”, a song that does exactly what an opener should do: it ushers you in with a smile, a shimmer and the faint suspicion that the lighting budget has been totally rinsed. “Sound & Light” follows with a broader sense of wonder and the slightly dangerous urge to turn every personal revelation into a very elegant synth line. There is some genuine emotion in this record too, with songs like “Perfect Lies” feeling strangely autobiographical, as if something more personal is flickering beneath the immaculate surface.

“Reverberotic” is one of the album’s most immediate pleasures, all robotic pulse and glossy suggestion, and its quirky textures are hard to deny. “Find Xanadu” gives the record its clearest pop moment. It is bright, melodic and just knowingly ridiculous enough to work, which is often where Goldfrapp is at her best. “UltraSky” and “Strange Things Happen” lean more heavily into atmosphere, drifting through clouds of synth and strings with the sort of poise that makes you feel underdressed just listening to them. 

For me, “Cinnamon Light” is the special one, both in concept and execution. It has that slightly woozy eighties glow that Goldfrapp does so well, but there is a vulnerability beneath the gloss that keeps it from becoming mere retro styling. The strings do not swamp the song; they seem to breathe around it. It is understated, graceful and quietly affecting, the sort of track that does not elbow its way to the front but ends up staying with you long after the brighter singles have done their glittery business. 

“Play It (Shine Like a Nova Star)” adds a firmer thump and a welcome flash of club energy, reminding you that Goldfrapp can still make electronic pop feel bodily rather than merely decorative. The slinky and reflective "Ordinary Day" begins to wind the album down before the heat and grit of "Magma" delivers the final glorious blow. 

Overall, "Flux" feels less like refinement rather than reinvention. It does not have the shock of the new, and it probably will not convert anyone who has always found Alison's solo work a little too cool to touch, but it is a stronger, richer and more emotionally open record than it first appears. 4.5/5

One record at a time: 529. Alison Goldfrapp - The Love Reinvention

Although this remix album began life as a set of digital files, it did receive a limited run of 1,000 physical copies for Record Store Day in 2023. Naturally, I had no intention of standing outside a shop for hours with middle aged men who talk to themselves, so I did the sensible thing and bought it online once the stampede had passed. At the time, it sold for a perfectly reasonable retail price. Now, inevitably, people are asking daft money for it, because nothing says "celebration of independent record shops" quite like giving scalpers an opportunity to line their pockets. 

As I mentioned when writing about the original album, the material being reworked here is already elegant, synthetic and quietly euphoric, so the remixers are not exactly starting with a packet of crayons in one colour. Working again with Richard X and James Greenwood, the project reshapes the 11-track set through a polished blend of techno, electronica and deep house. I tend to prefer remixes made by the original artist or producer, because they usually preserve the DNA of the source material while finding new angles within it. In short,these mixes feel like alternative versions rather than having been completely anonymised by people like The Orb or Underworld.

"Never Stop Loving" increases the tempo and somehow manages to turn the fat bassline of the original into something monstrous, the sort of thing that does not so much test your speakers as threaten them with destruction. The seven minutes fly by in a relentless barrage that compels you to dance, or at least move your arms in time with the music while pretending you have not put your back out unloading the dishwasher. There are still traces of the original’s romance and shimmer, but everything has been tightened, polished and sent out under a mirror ball with clearer instructions.

The title track picks up that idea and runs with it, pulsing along with a faint whiff of Kraftwerk in its clipped rhythms and clean electronic lines. Alison’s voice remains the human centre of it all, drifting through the circuitry rather than being buried beneath it, which is where these remixes work best. They never forget that beneath the programming, filters and beautifully buffed surfaces, there are actual songs trying to breathe.

"Dug Deeper" leans harder into the club sound without abandoning what made the original work. It has more weight, more propulsion and a slightly sweatier feel, as if someone opened the studio door and discovered there was a basement rave going on underneath. That is the trick across the album: the mixes stretch out, most of them comfortably passing the five minute mark, but they rarely feel padded. The extra space gives the arrangements room to build, circle back and reveal small details that might otherwise have flashed past in the original versions.

What helps "The Love Reinvention" avoid the usual remix album trap is that it feels curated rather than emptied out and repacked for the dance tent. There is a proper sense of continuity here, but also enough movement and muscle to justify its existence as a separate listen. It is less a random bundle of versions and more a late night reflection of the parent album, the same songs seen through glass, smoke and possibly a very expensive lighting rig.

Whilst I love this album, it won't convert anyone allergic to extended electronic mixes, and it may test the patience of those who think every song should get to the point before the kettle boils. For the rest of us, though, it is a generous, stylish and surprisingly cohesive companion piece. Just do not pay a ridiculous resale price for it, unless you enjoy being mugged by someone with a plastic outer sleeve and a Discogs account. 4/5

One record at a time: 528. Alison Goldfrapp - The Love Invention

Whilst I have always liked the band Goldfrapp, I have found myself oddly, and perhaps slightly treacherously, preferring the solo work of lead singer Alison Goldfrapp. "The Love Invention", released in 2023, was one of those albums I first bought as digital files before realising that this simply would not do. Some records demand to be owned on vinyl. 

Opening track "NeverStop" sets out its stall immediately, all deep, groovy basslines, electronic burbling and Alison’s airy vocal floating above the machinery like a glamorous ghost in a very expensive nightclub. The fact that Richard X is involved as co-writer and producer is no surprise. If you are going to make a record that glows with sleek electronic confidence, you may as well bring in the one man who knows exactly where the glitter switch is.

What follows is pure electronic pleasure. The title track glides along with polished disco assurance, "Fever" wears its house influences on its sleeve, and "So Hard So Hot" sounds as though Donna Summer’s "I Feel Love" has been sent forward in time, given a software update and told to behave badly. Even "Gatto Gelato", a title that sounds like something you might order confidently in Rome before discovering it translates roughly as "frozen cat", works beautifully, bringing a slightly Italo-disco flavour without tipping over into novelty.

Alison has always struck me as an artist who thinks at a slight angle to the rest of us. Like Róisín Murphy, she seems to regard the obvious route as something best avoided, preferably while wearing something architectural and looking as though she has just stepped out of a dream sequence directed by someone with an excellent synthesizer collection. This album provides the aural evidence of this theory.

The real joy of "The Love Invention" is that it never apologises for being an electronic dance record. It does not suddenly stop halfway through for an earnest acoustic ballad, nor does it allow a sneaky drum solo to wander in wearing sandals. As far as I can tell, there are no acoustic instruments here at all, and frankly, that is cause for celebration. The record knows what it is: elegant, sensual, synthetic, euphoric and beautifully produced. Alison’s voice remains that strange, icy-warm instrument, capable of sounding intimate and untouchable at the same time, which is quite a trick.

For me, "The Love Invention" is an affirmation of the continuing value of electronic music as something stylish, emotional and deeply human, even when most of the sounds appear to have been generated by equipment with more lights than a seventies discothèque. I wish there were more records like this: intelligent, glamorous, danceable and just odd enough around the edges to keep things interesting. It is Alison Goldfrapp stepping out under her own name and proving that, solo or otherwise, she remains one of electronic pop’s most compelling presences. 4/5