On CD:UK this week electroclash was pronounced over by Cat Deeley and Duncan from Blue, which sounds fairly terminal to me. But its after-effects linger: mostly, the resurrection of (honorary) British pop, which is often more convincing when it doesn’t feel it has to be funky. Electro and pop go marvellously well together: pop songwriters like fucking around with pre-sets and funny sounds in the studio — funny sounds were what got anyone with a lick of sense into pop in the first place, after all.
‘Slow’, you’ve probably gathered, is electronic pop. Wonderful, smouldering, electronic pop. After five plays it’s my favourite Kylie single ever (yes, better than that one. And even that one). The backing is synth-classicist — Moroder, Eurythmics, Detroit, tick, tick, tick — and expensively, predictably gorgeous but what makes this record great is Kylie. Kylie seemed to acquire sex-symbol status by default or accident a few years ago, it seemed a bit forced to me, a sort of lad-mag long-service medal, but somebody clearly thought that since Kylie is sexy now Kylie ought to make records that are sexy. And she has. Stammer, shuffle, blush. Did I say five plays? I meant eight plays.
‘Slow’ is sexy because ‘Love To Love You Baby’ and ‘Justify My Love’ almost were, and the record has learned their lessons. A pop singer, a microphone, a keyboard, one steady pulse and one quickening one — these things are enough, you don’t need heavy breathing or dirty talking. It’s what ‘Slow’ leaves out that counts — a beat, a chorus. It’s the sound of pop undressing. Did I say eight plays? I meant –