Bend your ears to this saccharine, kaleidoscopic slice of fantasy funk courtesy of Germany’s Airport Angst that artfully and airily matches sticky euro-synth symphonics, a baggy night-drive gangsta trip groove and some beautifully budget balaeric atmospherics to some pining, heartbroken robot vocals in a way that recalls fellow blissed-away pioneers in frontierless pop music adventuring Air France and seems to ressurrect the long buried dreams of the 1980s’ most hopeful in their sadly speculating on how a brand new love might feel in the millenium. It still hurts, baby.

Airport Angst – Hamburger Hill

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