Kylie Minogue, Golden review: Sorry, Kylie - you’re no cowgirl

Kylie goes country! But why? The world’s foremost purveyor of camp disco pop has a new album that froths with cliches.

Kylie Minogue performs songs from her new album Golden to her Spotify Premium fans at London's Porchester Hall. Picture: Getty IMages for Spotify

Kylie Minogue: Golden

(Sony BMG)

critic’s rating: 2/5

Kylie goes country! But why? The world’s foremost purveyor of camp disco pop has, at 49, swapped her sparkling hotpants for a pair of denim Daisy Dukes, jumped on the back of a pick-up truck and whistled her way on down to Nashville for an album that not only employs hit songwriters for Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood, but also finds Kylie putting on her best Dolly Parton Tennessee twang in the hope of sounding authentic.

In the event, with drum machines and digital effects sweetening the pill for hardcore fans horrified at the thought of their favourite diva getting a bit of dirt under her fingernails, this is the most unconvincing Kylie album yet.

Kylie’s new album.

It doesn’t start too badly. Dancing finds Kylie facing up to mortality by stating that when her time comes, she wants to go out dancing - highly unlikely, unless she is squashed by a falling mirrorball - and refusing to be maudlin and self-pitying in time-honoured Kylie fashion.

From then on, Golden sounds more like the product of a marketing meeting than a newfound love of country music, with none of the genre’s storytelling depth or melancholic weight of experience, but plenty of frothy, forgettable songs about nothing much in particular.

The strange thing here is that Kylie has plenty of potential material to draw on. She has faced down a bout of cancer, gone through a handful of relationships and survived the vicissitudes of three decades in the public eye with the kind of good cheer that has made her one of the most beloved people in showbusiness.

But these songs could be by and about anyone. Sincerely Yours and One Last Kiss are filled with lines about weathering storms and hearts breaking in two. As for the country element, it tends to be signposted by the odd banjo pluck or acoustic guitar shuffle - Live a Little even features a touch of vinyl crackle - before the songs settle into a default of Identikit pop.

Here and there, that evergreen Kylie likeability does shine through. Shelby ‘68, an ode to her father’s car, has the easygoing feel of a drive-time classic. And on Raining Glitter she is back to doing what she does best: escapist, uplifting pop.

For the most part, though, Kylie has been squeezed into a pair of cowboy boots that just don’t fit.

The Times