Little Boots - Hands
679/Warner
By Andrew P Street
Synth-disco is back, and Goldfrapp has new imitator. Step forward Victoria Hesketh, aka Little Boots, whose debut album has drawn comparison with artists as diverse as Ladyhawke (reasonable) and Lady Gaga (seriously?), primarily by being a photogenic young woman who writes songs and can play instruments.
Hands starts with a bang: 'New In Town' is 'Frapp-meets-Girls Aloud, while 'Earthquake' sounds like the sort of song that could have been sold for a bomb to any number of US performers (or, for that matter, Kylie). 'Click' suggests a debt to the Pet Shop Boys and 'Tune Into My Heart' sounds like an All Saints number one.
However, like so many pop records, it loses steam in the middle. The unmemorable 'Mathematics' clomps by ("your X is equal to my Y" is at once the year's most gormless metaphor involving algebra and/or chromosomes), 'Remedy' is all faceless autotuned harmonies and inane lyrics and the martial march of 'Ghost' is enlivened only by the Kate Bush-like "oh oh oh"s in the chorus. However, 'Stuck On Repeat', is utterly superb - a burbling sequencer nods to 'I Feel Love', and 'Symmetry' – Ms Boots' duet with Human League leader Phillip Oakley – nothing short of glorious. It's not without flaws, but the highs of Hands easily outshine the lows.
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