Goldfrapp, to paraphrase an old Blondie T-shirt slogan, is a band. The duo consists of the woman who lends the band its name, Alison Goldfrapp, and her musical partner, Will Gregory. Together, the Bath-based British twosome comprise a full-scale cottage industry, responsible not only for writing, playing and producing all the innovative electronic sounds on their excellent records but also for overseeing every detail of their projects' distinctive look, from the art on the album covers and posters right down to the sequins and feathers (umm & and horse heads) on their dancers' costumes.

The past five years have seen Goldfrapp rise and rise from the fringes of the Euro-disco underground to the more exotic rivulets of mainstream pop. Their latest (and most confident) record, "Supernature," was a massive hit in Europe upon its release last year, with narcotically catchy singles such as "Ooh La La" and "Number 1" dominating international charts and dance floors alike. "Supernature" has finally been released in America, where its supreme musical and sonic adventurousness, and Alison's esoteric brilliance as a performer (Need proof? Check out the video for "Ooh La La"), leave Goldfrapp poised to break through on this side of the pond as well.

We spoke to Alison by phone on the eve of "Supernature"'s March 7 U.S. release.

MSN Music: How does it feel to be reliving the release of an album that's already been so successful in Europe?

Alison Goldfrapp: Yeah, Groundhog Day. No, it's fine actually. Weirdly. It's OK. It sort of feels completely different -- I dunno why -- maybe because America always feels so different anyway than doing stuff in Europe. The whole approach of journalists and the media and the way the whole thing works -- I mean, sometimes it is a bit painful when people ask you what the meaning of something is. When you say the same word over and over again, it starts to lose its meaning; it's sort of like that. If you explain yourself over again, it starts to feel like you're someone else.

That seems to be a common experience for touring musicians, too: After a long enough time on the road, they have difficulty relating to their own stuff. Are you finding that now with "Supernature"?

I'm not now, but I have done [that] with past albums. You get to a point where you think, "No, I just have to stop now. It's not creative. It's not having a positive effect anymore." After a certain amount of touring, I always want to get back and start writing again, because ultimately, that's why you're doing it, and that's why you're where you're at. I love performing and the whole live side of it, but again, it can start to feel strange if you've done it for too long. But that's very personal. I know some people who can tour endlessly ... I mean I love it, but after a certain period, it's not creative. It's not the most creative part of the process anyway, and there comes a point where I start having itchy feet and I want to do something new, think about new ideas, you know?

Speaking of that, "Supernature" feels a lot more high energy than the previous records. How does the increased exertion affect your attitude to touring? Are you tired?

In a purely physical way? No, not really, because I'm a lot more relaxed about the whole thing. Because I enjoy it more, I actually find it less physical. And we have some really luxurious things now, like a wardrobe lady [laughs], which we never had before, so it would be me sort of trimming and sewing up people's costumes before we went onstage. That can do your head in a bit.

How intentional was the writing process this time around? Did you explicitly set out to make a more "up" record than "Black Cherry" or "Felt Mountain"?

I don't think we plan anything in particular. Things sort of evolve, and this album very much evolved from the last album and also from the live work. Because of the way we work and the way we think and write, it's more the sort of thing where we get in the studio together and muck around and talk about stuff. It's only once you sort of start doing something -- you eliminate ideas, and then you jam again maybe and add more, and then maybe you eliminate again, in an evolving process of adding and taking away -- not until you start getting into that that you realize what you're trying to shape. You may have little pointers, but ultimately [it's] not until you're really doing it that you know what it is.

It seems like a very free process. How does the division of labor between you and Will work? Does it start with a song? A fragment of a song? A groove? Who writes what?

There's no formula. Maybe one of us might start with a lyrical idea or a song concept, or maybe one of us will have a little melody or a little riff, or maybe we'll turn on all the machines in a room and just start jamming. Like I said, it kind of evolves. And we record absolutely everything. My experience working with other bands and stuff is that -- I've met a lot of people who claim to be experimental, interesting or radical, and actually, a lot of the time, they're the most conformist, I think. They tend to have a lot of very specific ideas about what kind of music you should make, like if you're doing dance music, you have to be obsessed about what BPM it is -- all these kind of rules, and I was very bored by them. One of the best things about working with Will is that we can pretty much do anything we feel like doing. There are no rules.

Do you read what people write about you?

I'm obviously interested, but I do try not to read the press, and I try not to read things on the Web site, either.

Having read almost all of it, I can tell you that the major theme of your press coverage is your sex appeal as a performer. How do you balance having sexuality as a theme in your work and playing around with it in your image, and having it totally dominate the conversation?

I find the sex thing gets a bit boring. I really do. I don't really believe it, either. I think a lot of the time, journalists find it's an angle for them, like more people would be interested if they go on about how sexy I am. I just find it a bit basic, really. I mean, I like the word "sensual," but I find once they make it into "sexual," I get a bit turned off, really.

Because it's just too obvious?

Yeah, it's a bit one dimensional. I think music is sensual. I find colors and food and all beautiful things very sensual and tactile and lovely. But when you start talking about "sexual," it starts to get a bit kind of -- whatever. It can get to be a bit too much.

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