Apr 16

KYLIE MINOGUE – “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head”

Popular63 comments • 9,746 views

#910, 29th September 2001

kylie head Between its two writers and its performer, “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is the sound of over seven decades’ pop experience. It’s better heard as distillation than prediction. Maybe its bright, brisk pop-dance sensibility comes from Cathy Denis. Maybe its moreish chunkiness, the crunchy stomp of its beats, comes from Mud’s Rob Davis. Its obvious comparison point, as a mantric, obsessive disco song, is Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love”. But “I Feel Love” risks goofiness in placing a wager on the future – I bet this isn’t a novelty record – while there is no risk of “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” being anything other than a classic. As Kylie Minogue knew, the second she heard the demo.

“Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is still sleek and clean, impeccably designed, full of beautiful textures. If “I Feel Love” was a kiss blown to an imagined future, “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is an engineer’s fond response now that the imaginary has come true, more pragmatic but just as heartfelt. Moroder and Summer’s song was a jet pack. Dennis, Davis and Minogue’s is a map of flight plans. It’s a crystal of a record, an omnihedron revolving gently at the centre of pop, refracting and reflecting the 20th century’s music. In a context of Atomic Kitten, DJ Otzi and Blue, you might weep for joy on hearing it. It’s so well-arranged, so uncluttered, so satisfying. But the joy is partly one of familiarity. Ever since “Telstar”, people imagined 21st century pop would sound a bit like this. “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” isn’t futuristic, it’s the fulfillment of a promised future.

But these were hard times for promised futures. Between the song’s release to radio and its reaching number one, another 21st century was cancelled, just as we were getting used to it. It crumpled into ash and smoke and broken glass, live on every television. In Grant Morrison’s Zenith, from 1993, an acid house robot announced that “Kylie is Vera Lynn for Third World War!”. One of Morrison’s glibly perfect one-liners, I couldn’t get it out of my head. It stuck there like a song’s hook until one day I realised it had come true.

How does pop react to history? There’s a respectable way: the path of overt commentary, song as a response to events. Protest music. Charity records. “Ghost Town”. “Candle In The Wind”. But the world doesn’t pause for the appropriate song to come along and you find resonance where you can. So there’s a less respectable way too, where history meets pop furtively, leaves lovebites or punctures on its neck. It’s the way where once you listen enough you can start turning every hit from the late 60s into a song about Vietnam, where critical alchemists can draw mischievous connections, trace aetheric lines of influence between the turning wheels of history and the minutiae of pop.

September 11th stymied pop on the first, more formal level. “Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?” yelled Ghostface Killah on the Wu-Tang Clan’s “Rules” that November – but such blurts of early, honest confusion were quickly forgotten exceptions. Even when more sombre, measured responses emerged, they carried most weight in their makers’ histories: here’s Springsteen’s take on things. Here’s Green Day’s.

But on the second level, where pop threads itself into events unconsciously, the game was more open. It may seem ludicrous to talk about Kylie in the context of 9/11, but within a day or two of the attacks, people I know had groped their way to a response, that response being “let’s put on a club night to raise money.” And on that night, the UK’s number one single was played at least three different times, even though if you’re not Kylie it’s a slightly clumpy song to dance to. So Kylie was there, part of the context, swallowed by faraway events like everyone else. But also something normal, something to agree on while the world tilted: a great pop record. So why was it great?

Kylie’s voice had worked on the PWL records, a cheerful squeak, thin enough to flatten itself against the tinfoil production and slice through the radio. But as her material turned more to pastiche – the opulent pop of mid-90s Kylie, the model disco of Light Years – I found her voice a nagging weak spot, whose reediness the painstaking production only emphasised. Those tracks were houses too big for her to live in. Her voice isn’t exactly stronger on “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head”, but it’s far more versatile, clucking the opening lines, rising to the big “set me free” moment, and finding a breathy register for “forever and ever and ever” that’s half-bewitching, half-bewitched. This is not a song designed for a singer to dominate, more to explore, and marvel at as it unfolds: Kylie is perfect for it, singing the “la la la” hook like she’s just thought of it.

The song she’s wandering through is a stately home of disco: half palace, half museum. “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is never overdone – it chooses its sounds sparingly and each has a role. The string line accentuates the singer’s yearning. An electric piano wanders through the mix, quizzical and playful, a counter to the track’s unflappable rhythmic glide. And then there are the song’s keyboard lines, rigid to the point of being comical: stiffly ascending, tick-tocking away for a few beats then just as precisely descending. It’s alienating and comforting at the same time, like Kraftwerk robots playing “The Grand Old Duke Of York”. And it makes me think of one of the song’s antecedents, Daft Punk’s temple to repetition, “Around The World”.

Michel Gondry’s video for “Around The World” took the ‘dance’ in ‘dance music’ and smuggled ‘interpretive’ in, turning the abstraction of techno into figurative delight. The clockwork busywork of its costumed performers found a beauty in routine and an odd joy in loops. “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is that song’s cousin, its surreal phalanxes of dancers making Daft Punk’s bewildering abstract representational. Now the loops are about something – the unceasing lock-groove of obsession. Now the dance revolves around someone – impossible princess Kylie. But the loops and the dance are still beautiful – charming and soothing.

As a song about obsession, though, “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” is deceptive. It threatens to take an easy but effective route, obsession as an undertow pulling you down to madness. “There’s a dark secret in me” – but this also seems like the song’s biggest lie. Where is the darkness? Nowhere you can hear. The song is a labyrinth with no centre and no minotaur. “Set me free” sings Kylie. In its maze of loops, the song inverts itself. “Stay forever and ever” sings Kylie. The obsessive stops being the singer, starts being the listener, the hooks swirling round their head. The substitution hardly feels unpleasant.

Outside Kylie’s dream city, George W. Bush was issuing pop culture with its draft papers. “Get down to Disney World in Florida,” he implored American families, “Take your families and enjoy life, the way we want it to be enjoyed”. The pleasurable was now political. After shuddering for a few weeks, the world economy took Dubya’s hint. The next few years of Popular, the fever years of a false boom, see pop at its most giddy and glitzy, its most shirt-rending and sanctimonious, its most cynical, and often its most divisive. From reality TV to blogosphere feuds, pop was a zone of argument. But “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” stands apart from all that, everybody’s sweetheart and nobody’s cause. At once seductive, enigmatic and cosy, “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head” was a hit people could get lost in, complete in itself. An unshaken kaleidoscope.



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  1. 1
    Tom on 6 Apr 2016 #

    Nice to be back! Sorry for the wait. Though just to scotch one inevitable line of comment enquiry, it never had a chance of being a 10 ;) In fact, I went in thinking it was an 8 and wrote myself into liking it more.

  2. 2
    flahr on 6 Apr 2016 #

    I feel less bad about giving it a 7 now! In fairness it’s probably quite a high 7. Very classy and well put-together. A formalist triumph, if that’s not an unutterly wanky thing to say. Not that that usually stops me. It’s also a fair bit shorter than it threatens to be, which is nice – or maybe it ends suddenly and abruptly. Not sure.

  3. 3
    weej on 6 Apr 2016 #

    I’m not one to focus too much on scores on the whole, but the difference between I Feel Love and CGYOOMH seems like a perfect example of the difference between a 10 and a 9.

  4. 4
    Tom on 6 Apr 2016 #

    IFL sits happily atop the reader chart, reminding me of my folly. (TBH I haven’t checked in a while but since its main rivals were two other 9s the point stands.)

  5. 5
    weej on 6 Apr 2016 #

    Don’t think score consistency is a viable goal anyway, just reminded myself of this by listening to Put Yourself In My Place, which has many flaws and fairly rubbish production, but would be a solid 10 as it simply gives me joy to listen to it every single time.

  6. 6
    mrdiscopop on 6 Apr 2016 #

    It’s not often you hear a song and instantly realise “this is going to be with us forever.” In the 21st Century I can only think of a handful – an Adele, an Outkast, a Beyoncé and this…

    It’s an odd song, structurally. The main hook is in the verse, setting up a delicious tension in the lyrics. “Set me free,” she whispers in the chorus, all the while being pulled inexorably back to her repetitious, robotic love affair.

    For me, that explains the “dark secret” line. Kylie is never totally sure she wants to submit to her fate. She can’t shake the feeling that she wants to shake the feeling. And the song never resolves… She fades out repeating “Can’t get you out of my head” over and over.

    Is that too sinister an interpretation? Part of me suspects it could just as easily be a collection of top-drawer hooks coupled to bog-standard lyrics.

    The Blue Monday bootleg (later an official remix) is still stunning.

    Meanwhile, the Blue Monday

  7. 7
    AMZ1981 on 6 Apr 2016 #

    Can’t Get You Out Of My Head was a four weeker, the second of 2001. You could force a few comparisons the other (Whole Again) in that both were slightly unlikely number one singles by artists who were at one time pretty much written off, although Kylie had spent considerably more years written off that Atomic Kitten had been around. Other surface similarities were that both songs suddenly seemed unstoppable once they seized the top spot and both in their fourth week created a sensation by holding off a record that was regarded as a dead certainty for the top.

    With the benefit of fourteen years hindsight we can see that Kylie Minogue had two periods of chart dominance (late eighties and early noughties), unlike Madonna who had artistic peaks and troughs but has generally been consistent commercially. We know that she picked up a pre teen fanbase on the back of a soap opera appearance and spent many years after written off as the epitome of naffness before taking a few commercial risks and re-emerging as a gay disco icon in the new millennium. Am I stretching a point to suggest that the young adults dancing to this song in nightclubs Can’t Get You Out Of My Head were the same teenyboppers who’d gone crazy to I Should Be So Lucky in nightclubs?

    In a way this song is almost too good; it’s flawlessly put together and performed and perhaps a little bland as a result. We do get to discuss Kylie once more (with a song almost forgotten now) but we don’t meet the fantastic Love At First Sight which for me was the best song from Fever – and we nearly do.

    So what didn’t get to number one because of this? With no Can’t Get You Out Of My Head, Hey Baby would have had three non consecutive weeks. We can probably live without discussing Steps’ take on Chain Reaction (2001 isn’t exactly short of inferior cover versions getting to number one) but what of You Rock My World by Michael Jackson?

    None of us can probably remember the last time we heard it but it is, in a way, a significant record. Everybody knew it was Michael Jackson’s last real shot at re-establishing himself as the King of Pop and he blew it. Almost exactly ten years distant from the genre crossing call to arms of Black And White, Jackson was now producing big standard rnb that was being done ten times better by those he’d once inspired. It would have struggled to go top ten if anybody else had done it but for him to be beaten by Kylie on her fourth week was a sensation at the time. Of course we knew he might not be quite done yet (the relative failure of Scream was relatively fresh in the mind and he had a habit of leading with the wrong single) but, again with hindsight, this is where the sad freeakshow that marked the final years of his life began.

  8. 8
    lonepilgrim on 6 Apr 2016 #

    wiki reckons that Sophie Ellis-Bextor turned this down first – despite the cool affect of ‘if this ain’t love’ that song sounds more quirky and open whereas CGYOOMH glides along like a beguiling moebius loop. Kylie’s breathy vocals are a perfect fit for the narcotic mood of the tune but don’t quite match the blissed out euphoria of ‘I feel Love’

  9. 9
    mrdiscopop on 6 Apr 2016 #

    Re: AMZ1981 … You Rock My World is unfairly maligned. It didn’t bolt out of the gates like Black Or White or Scream – but I suspect Jacko had seen how his sister upturned expectations with the lead singles on her two most recent albums (That’s The Way Love Goes & Got Til It’s Gone) and decided to pursue a similar path.

    It’s slick and smooth – although Rodney “Darkchild” Jerkins’ clunky production does its best to derail that – existing in the same sonic realm as Remember The Time, which had proved surprisingly durable on US radio. What’s more Jackson seemed to have been temporarily cured of the hiccups that marred his later vocal performances.

    But his image was irreparably damaged and the video was a disaster.

    Oh, and Kylie had the better song.

  10. 10
    Rufus Headroom on 6 Apr 2016 #

    This song is damned excellent, magnificent, the whole assortment of adjectives! Stellar review Tom, especially those points about Kraftwerk. CGYOOMH is like a clockwork orange that still tastes sweet.

  11. 11
    Neil C on 7 Apr 2016 #

    As a reader-recently-turned-commenter, this is my first opportunity to offer my thoughts on a new entry – so I’m writing this before looking at the review, the mark or the other comments. I can’t wait to see how it fits in with the general consensus ( if there is one…)

    There’s a lot to love about this record. I love the idea of the pop queen of old reclaiming her crown, with a song sounding both modern ( then and now ) and timeless. I love the infinite throb of the bass, making it feel like the song is always playing somewhere and we’re just making contact with it for 4 minutes. I love the addition to the pantheon of great “La la la ” choruses. I love Soulwax mixing Kylie up so that she “just can’t get my head to think about boys” on the 2 Many DJs album. I love the fact it inspired Paul Morley to write a 350 page love letter to Kylie and pop, as well as Alvin Lucier and the avant-garde *. And I’ve especially loved the anticipation for this entry in the comments on previous Popular entries – what a fantastically enthusiastic bunch you all are!

    And yet…if I’m being honest with myself, it’s a song I’ve always “really enjoyed”, rather than truly loved. All the components that are there, are great; I just feel it’s missing something – a killer middle eight maybe, or some extra instrumentation on the last chorus – that would elevate it into brilliance.

    Love At First Sight is using the same kind of tricks, but there’s just enough extra sparkle there in the vocal harmonies, the synth rushes, the dull-to-bright textures that sound like the nightclub door swinging open** and the Spanish guitar to give it the edge over CGYOOMH for me.

    8, with LAFS getting a sadly-not-under-discussion 9.

    *I’d be interested to hear what others think about Words And Music – I adored it on first read and it inspired some very interesting musical discoveries, but I don’t know if I have the patience for Paul Morley’s writing style these days. I enjoyed “Nothing” so much on a first read, I reread it within 6 months – I picked it up again last month and couldn’t get past the first 5 pages before I started to get annoyed with the writing style.

    **seriously, there must be a name for that, right?

  12. 12
    Phil on 7 Apr 2016 #

    I assumed this was going to be a 10, but on listening to it again I think 9 is about right. If I Feel Love is a spaceship, ICGYOOMH is the in-flight music.

    What a weird video it is, too. Speaking of Words and Music, Morley’s meditation on the in-car Kylie freaked me out good and proper (he pictures her as a robot, basically) but revisiting the video now I can see where he was coming from: there’s a weird sense of mechanical eternity about the song, and it kicks in most emphatically when she starts singing. “I, just, can’t” – and we’re off; from that moment on we know the song will go round and round and never end.

    But then we’re out of the car (or else we were never in it) and there are the robotic, yet weirdly sexy, air steward(esse)s and an oddly snarling Kylie… and the robotic welders, dancing behind Kylie (still snarling) in that one-piece can-you-even-show-that-before-the-watershed outfit… and Kylie getting down in a little metallic number and a perm, in front of some more sexy androids… and then it ends. No shape to it at all.

    Still, it’s in a fine old tradition. Being shocked and mildly turned on always was a key part of my TOTP-watching experiences, even before I knew what being turned on was – I remember telling my Mum(!) about Pan’s People dancing in gold bikinis, and by the song I know I was eight at the time.

    (Oh, and the Blue Monday ‘remix’ is superb; there’s a live version on YT which is well worth checking out.)

  13. 13
    mapman132 on 7 Apr 2016 #

    Great review, Tom. Well worth the wait. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to quite get a 10…9, or maybe 9.5, is about what I’d give it too. It really does stand out in what I’d consider a surprisingly dismal 2001 list. Particularly interesting is your comment about people imagining what 21st century pop would (or should?) sound like. In case it hasn’t been obvious, I kind of feel that way myself. It’s no coincidence that my highest marks so far in the 21st century have gone to more futuristic sounding songs like “Pure Shores”, “Groovejet”, “Lady”, etc. Of course none of these were US hits….

    And at first it didn’t seem that CGYOOMH would be a US hit either, not that I cared that much in the fall of 2001. I was too busy just trying to get back a feeling of normalcy in my life – not just because of 9/11 itself, but also because of the omnipresent “what next?” atmosphere that fell over the country. Particularly frightening were the anthrax attacks which have since been largely forgotten even in the US. At one point it was even believed there was anthrax in the mail room of the building I was working in (very plausible due to the particular federal department it was). Fun times.

    Back to CGYOOMH, it was early 2002 when it finally broke over here, eventually reaching #7 on the Hot 100. I could have sworn it was bigger than that – I thought as high as #3. The followup “Love At First Sight” also was a hit, reaching #23 (again I thought it was bigger – surely a top ten?). Two of the best songs of 2002 regardless.

  14. 14
    Matthew K on 7 Apr 2016 #

    In a perfect world this song would have had the mesmerising video Gondry created for “Come Into My World” (linked). And for those of you like me, for whom this period was the closest you came to being an unironic fan of her music, the ecstatic merger of Kraftwerk and cool pop can be found on Perfume’s album LEVEL 3 and Grimes’ recent stuff.

  15. 15
    Matthew K on 7 Apr 2016 #

    #11, “the infinite throb of the bass, making it feel like the song is always playing somewhere and we’re just making contact with it for 4 minutes” – beautifully put Neil C!

  16. 16
    Neil C on 7 Apr 2016 #

    #15 – thanks Matthew! Pretty sure I was channelling my inner Morley for that bit ;)

  17. 17
    Rory on 7 Apr 2016 #

    Even though it hit the top a couple of weeks later, this feels like the better song to reflect on 9/11 and what it wrought. September 11 started as a moment, a single day, but it towered over the remaining months of 2001, burning in our collective memory: never was a number one’s title so inadvertently apt.

    I saw the news on a headline board for the Edinburgh Evening News as I walked back to my office at the end of the day after a meeting, six weeks into my new job here. It said “Hundreds Die in New York Terror Attack”, or something like that, and I imagined something like the sarin gas attacks in the Tokyo subway, or the recent Metro bombing in Brussels. Back at the office, the news sites were all timing out, so I visited a favourite group blog and read about it there.

    That night my wife and I caught a taxi from our temporary accommodation to our new flat, where we spent our first night with no furniture and no TV. (For as long as we lived there, I never had any trouble remembering our moving-in date for forms.) We decided we didn’t need a TV just yet, as we knew what would be playing on it, over and over again. As these were the days before online video amounted to much, it was some time before I saw any footage of the planes crashing into the towers, although there were plenty of photographs online—too many.

    I couldn’t get 9/11 out of my head for weeks, months, years; writing blog posts about the thoughts and fears it triggered, and dreading every September 11, until I decided on the fifth anniversary that I was done dwelling on it. But until then, it felt impossible not to. In those first days and weeks, as someone who had just moved to the UK, imagining a worst case scenario where everything shut down, I wondered when international air travel would be routine enough again that we could visit family back home, or them us. I felt stranded on the far side of the world, like an emigrant from 1901 or 1801 rather than 2001.

    And here was this impossibly catchy tune, sung by a pop princess from home, a musical relic of a time just weeks before when the 21st century—and our own move overseas—held out more hope, now suddenly given this awful new context. In a world numb with shock, carrying on on autopilot, following some terrible pre-ordained program that would take us to war, robot dancing on endless loop made perfect sense.

    Comparing this to “I Feel Love” to decide whether it’s a 10 feels like a false choice to me. It’s true that “Can’t Get You Out of My Head” might sound even better with a little more development (was there an extended version?), so I suppose it isn’t perfect-perfect, but it’s certainly “impossible to imagine ever not enjoying it [and] difficult to imagine anyone else not enjoying it”. There aren’t many singles from the ’00s that feel like a nailed-on classic to me, and one of them never reached number one in the UK, so 10 it is.

  18. 18
    Andrew Farrell on 7 Apr 2016 #

    I never really got on with this song – partly because I never really got on with Daft Punk after their first album, and I filed this under the plague of taste that followed them. And partly because, unlike Tom, I am really genuinely fond of Kylie’s voice, and it annoyed me to have the character processed out of it like this – it makes a lot of sense that this was offered to Sophie Ellis-Bextor, let her have it and let Kylie be Kylie.

    Mine has been a hard life.

  19. 19
    Andrew Farrell on 7 Apr 2016 #

    It never really felt like the future though, it felt like a vision of the future as specifically seen from the 70s. This is a common theme in the aforementioned plague and definitely one of the things I held against it – who needs a tasteful version of the 70s?

    When I was growing up of course the 70s were the decade that taste forgot, I felt a shock when I remembered that the 80s had taken that title. In both cases what got remembered was the upscale stuff, the fault being punished wasn’t just how things looked but that the style criminals seemed genuinely thrilled and proud that they could afford this velour lampshade / metallic gold pillow (and that they were hip to that being a style triumph). There hasn’t (as far as I know) been any transference of the title to the 90s, I’m curious about why – a lack of ostentation post 80s, or possibly the end of the millennium turned design’s eye backwards more than usual?

  20. 20
    Tom on 7 Apr 2016 #

    #19 I think (well I hope – the mark obscures it a bit) some of that criticism is implicit in the review, since I mostly agree with it. CGYOOMH is excellent, but a little too clean and perfect – I want my pop to be less agreeable, in the strict sense: I like the 00s pop that started more fights. (This is the third best 9 of 2001.)

  21. 21
    Patrick on 7 Apr 2016 #

    Re: AMZ1981. I always thought You Rock My World was a rip-off of Whitney Houston’s If I Told You That, which apparently was originally planned to feature Michael Jackson instead of George Michael.

    Listening back to the songs, they sound more distinct than they used to.

  22. 22
    Matthew Marcus on 7 Apr 2016 #

    Oddly enough, I *can* get this out of my head… every time I listen to it, I forget what it was like and have to go in again to check if I missed something. It seems quite nice but I genuinely did hear the Flaming Lips cover first as far as I can recall (thanks for the #indieamnesty recommendation, Tom, I submitted it on Twitter where it seems to have gone down well) and, yeah, I know I’m a pop heel but it’s the cover that means something to me today.

  23. 23
    Phil on 7 Apr 2016 #

    CGYOOMH is excellent, but a little too clean and perfect

    Sorry, is early-2000s Kylie not a sex goddess? The glare and the lip-gloss snarl, aren’t they a bit scary? Is that all-enveloping, all-revealing white outfit not a blatant paradoxical affront to textile decency? Is that not what the ‘dark secret’ line is all about – the unimaginable ultimate revelation at the heart of every striptease?

    No, that song is dirty, and dirty isn’t clean. But it’s dirty in a particular way: there’s an odd kind of speculative, playacting quality to it. That awful couplet “Won’t you stay/Won’t you lay”, for instance: it sounds suggestive as hell, but it also sounds as if neither K. nor her audience actually knows what ‘lay’ means in that context – just that it’s something to do with sex hem-hem. And the next line is “stay forever, and ever, and ever” – which (Now I May Be Doing It All Wrong But) doesn’t sound much like actual sex, but does sound like an inexperienced kid’s half-fascinated, half-horrified vision of how sex might envelop you whole (watch out boy, she’ll chew you up…). In fact I wonder if the key word in the whole song isn’t ‘boy’.

  24. 24
    Tom on 7 Apr 2016 #

    #23: “Sorry, is early-2000s Kylie not a sex goddess?”

    Errrr…no? I mean yes, I picked up from the coverage that she was now. But I’ve never felt it, which perhaps means I’m missing out on a lot. Or at least means I can’t get past the song as a beautifully designed object to hear the dirt in there.

    The main thing I like about her dancing in the video is the odd, crow-like way she tilts her head, a little hint of the uncanny which is much more interesting than all the robot malarkey or the dodgy graphics. It kind of invents a performer we’ll see a lot at the other end of the decade.

  25. 25
    James BC on 7 Apr 2016 #

    I like this but I think Love At First Sight (reached #2) is the real classic from the album. It’s much better to dance to for one thing, and it actually makes being in love sound enjoyable instead of inconvenient.

    Its video is better too, letting Kylie prove her star quality in a single long take (or maybe there are two or three cuts). Spot the fake arm at the end.

  26. 26
    JLucas on 7 Apr 2016 #

    For all the coverage of her clearly pleasing physical attributes, I don’t get the sense that Kylie’s appeal ever really lay in her aggressive sexuality. She’s certainly taken ownership of her identity as a sexual being at several points in her career, with varying degrees of success, but it’s a softer, more suggestive approach to her heterosexual womanhood than, say, Madonna or even her own sister Dannii have dabbled in.

    On her very best recordings – of which this is one, and Confide In Me is another (and exhibit A. in what would be my lengthy rebuttal of Tom’s criticism of her mid-90s vocal performances) – she presents herself not as a sexual carnivore but as an appealingly enigmatic siren. I see those two songs as very much spiritual siblings, not only because they represent pivotal moments in her career, but also because there’s something vaguely but thrillingly unsettling about them. To describe her vocal performances as ‘blank’ sounds like a back-handed compliment, but there’s definitely a sense of the uncanny – a seductive voice leading you down a rabbit hole you may never emerge from.

    It’s not all Kylie can do – Love at First Sight is a great showcase for her ability to effortlessly convey the sheer, giddy joy of infatuation, Light Years had some great moments of balls-out diva pop, and her next bunny is probably her best unabashedly sexy song. But the ability to caress the edges of a record like this is tougher to get right than it looks, and if she’d never recorded anything of note again, this song would have firmly justified her position as one of the great pop divas – and, yes, pop vocalists – of her generation.

    10, obviously.

  27. 27
    thefatgit on 7 Apr 2016 #

    I was thinking this would be a nailed-on 10, but as Tom eloquently explained, this is the future that IFL visualised but the giddiness of Donna Summer’s Populist-topper, really has made me think again. Personally, I love what Kylie does here, yet it’s a little too polished and meticulously arranged. I need an element of carefree abandon that defines IFL and its younger sibling; Blue Monday. Even if CGYOOMH seems a different proposition on the face of it, we really are in that dancefloor-as-arena-of-infatuation ballpark. And of course Blue Monday, as mentioned by the comments crew, slots together with this as snugly as a dovetail joint fashioned by the hands of Thomas Chippendale himself.

    Kylie’s voice isn’t a stumbling block for me. The breathy insistence of “stay forever and ever…” is something not many can pull off with aplomb, however Kylie knows how to balance seductiveness and restraint. It intrigues me how Sophie Ellis Bextor might have managed this trick, without coming across in a harsh, domineering* way. It may have been a very different beast indeed. (9)

    *that’s how it sounds in my head at least.

  28. 28
    Mark G on 7 Apr 2016 #

    #22, yes I remember the Flaming lips did one gig with Beth Orton as a guest artist, and although there was no indication, I did wonder if she did CGYOOMH. Eventually, I tracked down in some strange ftp folder a track labelled as such. And it was true.

    I might be the only one pleased by this, so be it.

  29. 29
    Ronnie on 7 Apr 2016 #

    I don’t get it.

    All I hear in this song is cold and dull. Count me in as much, much preferring “Love at First Sight.”

  30. 30
    Phil on 7 Apr 2016 #

    JLucas – certainly neither this nor Spinning Around (say) is aggressive; even K’s facial expression in the video for this one (and that odd sideways head-jut) is more weirdly fascinating than off-putting. “Suggestive” is about right; it’s very much sex as allure and allure as spectacle, “look, don’t touch” – in fact “look, don’t even think of doing anything else (but do keep looking)”.

    Perhaps you need to be in touch with your inner (pubescent) child to really get it. The funny thing is that neither the ultra-made-up Debbie Harry look nor Madonna’s glam/trash/shock aesthetic has ever done anything for me – boring, obvious, put ’em away, let’s focus on the music… I even used to think Siouxsie went a bit heavy on the makeup. Put me in front of Kylie in sex goddess mode, though, and I rapidly lose the capacity for rational thought – I’m right back there watching Pan’s People with my mouth open, or learning from a friend that strip clubs actually exist. What it would have been like to be that age when this came out I shudder to think. Come into my world, indeed.

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