Above: with more wind than a vegetarian adding chick peas to their diet, Kim's photoshoots might have stank, but created some of the singer's most iconic imagery.
The foamy lather of her vocals on the swishy love-fest It's Here make it as immediate as anything she has done before, but the rash of adrenaline from her back catalogue has almost cleared up completely into something smoother and more polished. The majestic intro could well be the album's peak at the 0:07-0:13 mark. However, I'm going to compare this old banger to a tractor: yes, the laidback electronic disco ploughs through vaguely country-feeling grains of instrumentation, with the watery nutrients of Kim's voice bringing all the goodness to the surface. Recycling 2nd hand arrangements fertilizes something memorable, but record sales failed to grow and it failed to harvest Kim a top 40 hit in the UK. The simmery track switches lanes at about 1 minute and 30 seconds, and Kim's 'confusion' emphasis give what essentially is one of those faceless big pop moments, that were often massive during the decade (Amy Adams might have had better luck with this), are the shadows tinting the big arrival of whatever it is with something reassuringly less prissy than it might have been. The spritual ressucitation of 2:28 is the reprise of what makes this track something very special and a bit extra.
Above: the La Toya Jackson look has been the kiss of death for not only La Toya Jackson's career, but in 1990 Kim Wilde was sadly added to this list of artists struck by 'hit single anorexia'.
Sounding a bit stale all these years later, Love (Send Him Back To Me) employs then-contemporary drum strikes and mechanical sexiness, with the plotline no deeper than being 'set free' by cock. Sharp and neck-snappingly bland enough to pass for an Abdul album cut, this is a bit frumpish for my liking, but Kim's sulky incisions always sink in even if it's a shame she can't overcome the facelessness of it all.
Above: the classic KylieFacial pose was the music industry's worst kept secret, as even Kim made a joke of it years before the Neighbours actress admitted to her mystery non-surgical skin treament.
Danniipop moment World In Perfect Harmony's big surprise is that Cathy Dennis had no part in its creation, or that Dannii Minogue didn't record it in 1995, 1993 or 2007 on top of a Sash! instrumental. A rash of piano keys aggrevate Kim enough to pravoke her vocals to pour out like sunshine for the type of glossy finish only porn stars can relate to.
Flushing her heart like a toilet, highlight number two Storm In Our Hearts is a lush commitment of slushy love-lusting vocals and a flood of gushing piano keys. This is poor Kim's equivalent to Rachel from Friends staring out the window to the sound of U2. Her vocals ghost through visons of 'rain and thunder', translating the rhythms with an underlying pathos.
Below: Kim's position as the next Sugababe was already secured, with a mumsy sex vamp look that Heid would kill for, before the girls were even at school bullying their classmates (and teachers).My divine favourite, Someday is like taking a cleansing wipe to my soul. Pretty, plaintive and vague-not-vacant, the icicle-dripping emotions, glamorous fragrances of pensive depression, and marble-eyed melancholia are all matched by the singer's discreet vocals vapourizing into the misty sounds. The gentle tide of backing vocals drift into nothing more than crystalised sighs. I highly recommend.
Clarifying chaos, Time is so good it must have scared the shit out of M People. It a bit ironic to call a song Time when the production on all the tracks make it oh so easy to pin down exactly the era they all came from, but this could have more thighs chaffing than The Nolans last UK tour. Jazzy grooves smoulder through the defensively decent Who's To Blame. 'Heard it on the news today / there's got to be a better way'. If she can't be bothered then neither can I.
Not a song too soon, Can't Get Enough cranks the voltage, cementing an established insatiable thirst for cliches even further as she threatens 'murder in the first defree'. Without the gravity-defying conviction of Never Trust A Stranger, a girl-group style narrative thrusts enough aggrevation to state a case for itself.
Dry-humping the same sound as Paula Abdul doesn't do Hollywood any favours, but turns into surprising good fun.
Still being hard on herself, I Can't Say Goodbye sadly is not a Liza Minnelli cover. It's a bit drippy for my taste, and I don't have the patience to get this serious. There's not a hair out of place on it though.
Verdict:Exhiled from the pop charts and arriving after Close, Love Moves comes as something of a retreat but is not without undeniable charm. Commercially-driven, it tanked but the real capital is Kim herself, with her watery voice flooding into all the filler without hesitation. Initially lacking the infinite pinaccles such as You Came and Stranger, Kim is admittedly capable of dizzier heights than mostly everything here, but the album is a steady stream of well-matched songs all thriving on the good taste of its artiste and production flourishes. Her most unequivocal pop album.