Lots of bands are returning to their roots in this trashed economy, and with all the whispery chill on this album you might automatically assume Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory are in similar mode. But this isn’t triphop, nor overtly techno really (Alison started out as a Tricky/Orbital moll). No, I get the sense that they’ve been spending smoky afterparty time with po-faced cinema wonks (supposedly, filmmaker Lisa Gunning is creating five “films” related to these songs, which “will be shown in cinemas later this year”) and have grown to fancy themselves irresistible subject matter for auteurs of champagne tastes. So out with the disco, in with the strings — even waltz-time isn’t safe from Alison’s psychobabble (“Jo”; “Alvar”), but… well, so what, it’s a great earbud record for working on some personal reflection, and I don’t mean the “Gee, when was the last time I cried” sort. It’s immersive, actually fascinating, if a little too ‘70s-chixploitive during its not-so-great moments (“Drew” had me remembering a generally-naked Jane Fonda speaking all that French in Spirits of the Dead). “Thea” is the best thing on here, both hook-wise and in terms of technicality, but everything does fit together nicely through a certain shared doe-eyed creepiness.