Oh, the humanity. Usually, it's a lack of it that informs modern electronic music - a steely futurism that severs the boat of comprehension from the jetty of sense, and languishes in its own cool mean
Oh, the humanity. Usually, it’s a lack of it that informs modern electronic music – a steely futurism that severs the boat of comprehension from the jetty of sense, and languishes in its own cool meaninglessness. But if you’re bewildered by the stark abstractions of [a]Autechre[/a] or [a]Pole[/a], let Stuart Cullen – the man behind Brighton’s Pilote – soothe you home; the shrill two-note squeal that pre-empts the cerebral patter of ‘Turtle‘ is nothing more oblique than the sound of a man whistling for his dog.
Cobbled together on “an old PC and a dodgy Yamaha” – and in these playfully lo-fidelity sonic realms, we can only assume that’s the keyboard, and not the motorbike – ‘Antenna‘ is a thoroughly likeable trawl through electronica’s treasured cast-offs. ‘Microphones‘ offers a pared-down take on the Aphex Twin‘s skittish dynamism, ‘Message From The Bigman‘ marries lonely unfurling synths to some very bad swear words, and the aforementioned ‘Turtle‘ pulls off a similar trick to the remarkable Funkstorung remix of Bjvrk’s ‘All Is Full Of Love‘ earlier this year – so emotive are its strains, that you can barely believe that it’s been pieced together with cold, dead machinery.
No ghosts in Pilote‘s machine, then. But refreshingly, a human heart.