Seventh Tree

After transforming from a dreamy, ethereal warbler into the dominatrix of sleazy electronica, Alison Goldfrapp has done it again. And this time the conversion is no less dramatic.

Granted, she hasn’t found the Lord and recorded a collection of hymns, but the singer has swapped the sweaty nightclubs and seedy strip joints for something a bit less sexual — consider a little village in the English countryside circa 1970. Goodbye whips, chains and come-ons of 'Black Cherry' and 'Supernature'; hello acoustic guitars, whistling birds, the Metro Voices choir, and a string section of 29.

But Alison and Will Gregory, the other half of the group that bears her name, haven't gone so pastoral that mooing cows replace the keyboards and programming. Instead, imagine 'Seventh Tree' as a Nick Drake album produced by Brian Eno — or, at its worst, a Dido record. While the new approach does yield some charmingly beautiful moments (like the dreamy 'Monster Love'), there are times ('Caravan Girl') when the duo veer dangerously close to the middle of the road.

So the folksy 'Road To Somewhere' could be best described as easy listening (a fancy way of saying "boring") and the metronomic 'Eat Yourself' never lives up to its quirky title — but elsewhere Goldfrapp walk away with the country fair rosette. Canter through the fields 'A&E' manages to sound both majestic and effortless; 'Little Bird' soars into a sky of gentle '60s psychedelia; the hazy 'Clowns' floats as gracefully as Alison's voice intertwines with the almost intangible music; 'Cologne Cerrone Houdini' intriguingly hitches 'James Bond'-theme strings to a lazy R&B groove; and the bouncy 'Happiness' channels some hippies on a particularly sunny acid trip.

Warmer and more inviting than any of their previous work, 'Seventh Tree' is the perfect Sunday morning companion to their Saturday night party albums. But where to next? Mississippi delta blues? '80s heavy metal? Freeform jazz?