The start of this is pretty good. Its got big aspirational synth hits that plug straight into the Scarface/ Wall Street soundtrack continuum, all massive mobile phones, coke faces and greed. Then come the beats, the bittersweet lyrics and the catchy choral hooks and were into full scale bit-chomping iron-pumping Jane Fonda fitness video territory. This track could have easily given off the stench of cynical revivalism being peddled by the current crop of industry backed electro pop muppets, however, as Alison Goldfrapp turned 20 round 1986 she clearly has a more natural feel for the music of the decade. Resultantly this song comes across as far more genuine, and all the better for it. Ultimately Rocket doesnt quite escalate past the opening minute or so to make it the pop classic it strives to be, but as a hummable chart bound number, its far far better than, say, Pixie Lotts entire output.