Oh Lovefoxxx, to whom shall we compare thee? Funkier than Peaches Geldof after a night at Donny Tourette’s place; cooler than Kate Long Blondes after a week in Iceland, more unapproachable than what’s-her-name out of The Raveonettes – no wonder the CSS songstress is, yes, cansei de ser sexy.
But what of the music, we hear you cry? After the sublime disco-funk of ‘Let’s Make Love And Listen To Death From Above’ comes ‘Alala’. Christ. So this is what electro-rock should sound like! The bass roars like an old-banger being given the last rites in a Glasgow scrapyard. Distorted synths sting like Vaseline on an open wound. And then there’s Lovefoxxx, sending endorphins shooting through your cerebral cortex with every sexually ambiguous word. “Alala!/Alala!/You’re so cool/Can I be your friend/I’ll drive you to the end!”, she yelps suggestively, clearly aghast at having found someone cooler than she is.
Who can match São Paulo’s sleaziest for danceability as 2006 draws to a close? Funnier than Peaches, funkier than Klaxons, weirder than The Horrors – ‘Alala’ will send indie wallflowers zombie-like to the moshpit worldwide, where they will be left sobbing and broken by its primordial pulse.
“I’m doing the talking/But I don’t get nothing!” yelps Lovefoxxx, as your correspondent blacks out. As unstoppable as next week.