Pilotfilm – Flugbegleiter Recordings

I have, on occasion, said that I would never put brain-to-sequencer and attempt to make music because I’m not a musician. However, listening to this makes me have second thoughts – because I reckon I can do better than this. In fact, I think my Uncle could do better than this, and he’s dead. Flugbegleiter appears to have little idea of what’s been happening in electronic music over the last five years. Half of Pilotfilm, a five-finger rectal examination of an album, sounds like dinosaur-friendly minimal bundestekno that sounded fairly decent in 2001, but now sounds rather shit. The rest sounds like a cross between dinosaur-friendly minimal bundestekno that sounded fairly decent in 2001, but now sounds rather shit, and shit goa. It’s as though your favourite “groundbreaking” releases of the last howevermany years never happened; it’s as if presets are all that ever existed; and it’s as if though those ancient up-down acidlines are all punters ever need. An insult to your intelligence, Pilotfilm closes on an utter pissdrenched tune Absacker, a downtempo piece of new-age-smegma that sounds like the dross played in hippieshops your long-purple-skirt-wearing girlfriend drags you to, with the closing run being worryingly akin to the moment when you finally have to leave the store, vomit dripping from your eyesockets.