Black Cherry is twice as weird. There are a couple of Balearically snoozy duds, but overall, frontwoman Alison Goldfrapp has come into her own as a kind of Kylie Minogue from the dark side, a sex kitten with a whip and a sneer to match the industrial noise slimed over everything by co-conspirator Will Gregory. Which is to say, Black Cherry should be the album that drives a stake deep into the heart of electro-clash. It's the scariest record you've ever heard -- slick, sick, and orgasmic all at once: a snuff film as album. Compelling. Brilliant. Yuck.
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