Le single Superstar est extrait du futur album We can't fly, (sortie le 25 octobre.)

Disponible en 12''.

You fly with Aeroplane once, you don’t forget it. In just three years,
the Italian-Belgian duo have established themselves as party-starting
DJs, remixers du jour -with their spacious cosmic-disco re-rerubs of
Grace Jones (William’s Blood), Friendly Fires (Paris) and Sebastien
Tellier (Kilometer) - and, via their own piano-sprinkled melancholic
beauties like Caramellas, leaders of the nu-disco and Balearica scene.
So Aeroplane’s debut album, We Can’t Fly, arrives with sky-high hopes.
Now that our appetites have been whetted by those brief, tantalising
excursions, what delights await us on their maiden long-haul flight?

Plenty, it turns out. Recorded in Toulouse, Paris, London and Los
Angeles, We Can’t Fly (co-produced by Bertrand Burgalat), is a grown
up, dazzlingly accomplished record that showcases not just a passion
for stately, soulful disco and early 80s electronica, but a lush and
bittersweet set of influences that stretch from Abba and film
soundtracks to Floyd, the Stones and the Italian crooners that Vito
Deluca’s mama played him in his Brussels youth.

Aeroplane is now a one-man operation, Vito having amicably parted
company with his bandmate Stephen Fasano. Not that we should be
alarmed. “There are worse things in life!” says Vito. “Stephen's gonna
do music on his own, I'm gonna do music on my own. I’m the studio guy,
he was more the DJ so when the music became more important, the more I
was alone in the studio. The future of Aeroplane was this album and I
wrote it and played every instrument.” The two are still on good terms:
“He's picking me up tomorrow at the airport. I’m probably going to
produce the stuff he writes in the future and I’m not going to have a
word to say about it!”

Flying solo has given Vito the chance to flex his classically trained
musical muscles: “We’ve been put in the dance music category but I’m a
songwriter, that’s what I know how to do. I wanted to go back to proper
pop music, not being forced to do nine-minute tracks so the DJ can mix
in before and after.”  Aeroplane have never been at the mercy of
traditional bpms, and being free of “the dancefloor pressure” has given
Vito additional license to slow things down and look around. “I’m at my
best at 105bpm,” he says. “That’s the speed where I make the best
music. You can do more, there’s more groove, more feeling.” 

He’s not kidding. Take We Can’t Fly, the languid, showstopping
anthem-to-be with which Aeroplane kicked off their landmark 500th Radio
1 Essential Mix at Circus in Liverpool earlier this year. Laying gospel
harmonies over Compass Point-era Grace Jones reggae, blissed-out Rimini
keyboards and kiddie vocal samples, it’s handsome proof that
dancability and musicality don’t have to be mutally exclusive. It’s
going to sound rapturous live, when Vito and an expanded on-stage
line-up play Aeroplane’s first dates later this year.  

Being let loose in a proper, bells-and-whistles studio for the first
time has been something of an eye-opener. “I’ve been recording in my
bedroom for my entire life so it sounds a million times better,” says
Vito. “I was totally like a kid in a sweetshop.” The results are
spectacular - and at times intensely cinematic. The widescreen,
string-splashed Mountains of Moscow is the soundtrack to the best
Eighties blockbuster you’ve never seen, while London Bridge and Point
of No Return are mini-epics of spiralling Floydian guitar riffs and
plaintive Tangerine Dream synths. “That's my dream actually, writing
scores for movies,” says Vito. “For me the Rocky soundtrack is at the
same level as Dark Side of the Moon, it’s the same kind of perfection.”

Another mighty inspiration was Giorgio Moroder, whose gleaming
electronic scores for Scarface and Midnight Express fed into the
vintage disco stylings of My Enemy and the propulsive, piano-led
Superstar, which Vito describes as “Moroder meets Canned Heat”. The
latter features vocoder vocals from Vito himself, but Moroder was so
impressed that he agreed to lay down the vocals for an alternative
version of the track, which will be released later in the year.

Moroder wasn’t the only one of Vito’s heroes to be recruited. The
raucous, razor-blade rock of I Don’t Feel features the formidable
vocals of Merry Clayton, who backed Jagger on Vito’s favourite Stones
song, Gimme Shelter. ”There was always this black chick singing at the
end and I never knew who she was. I also had this amazing soul-funk
record by a girl called Merry Clayton. Then one day they played Gimme
Shelter on the radio and the DJ explained that it was Merry singing. I
lost the plot and said we have to try everything we can to get her.”
Get her they did, and Clayton wraps her arena-sized lungs around
squalling Bowie-ish riffs to impressive effect. “She killed the song,
it was amazing.”

The roster of guest singers is impeccable. Nicolas Ker, the frontman of
French italo-disco outfit Poni Hoax, adds a sullen elan to Fish in the
Sky, an electro torch song worthy of Human League, while dream-pop
outfit Au Revoir Simone breathe delicate harmonies over the woozy
ballad We Fall Over, and London’s Jonathan Jeremiah transforms Good
Riddance into a low-slung slice of honky-tonk soul.

Perhaps the most ear-catching turn comes from the precocious LA
teen-vixen Sky Ferreira on Without Lies, a cover of a song by the
Belgian screen star Marie Gillain. The 17 year-old Ferreira takes
obvious relish in delivering suggestive lines like “When I eat cake I
prefer the cherry”. Vito picked her because “we needed a young voice
but kind of sexy too. It’s like an angel and a demon in the same body.”

It’s a breathtakingly diverse collection of songs, but what runs
through all of them is that wistful Aeroplane trademark, what Vito
calls “sad happiness”. It’s something he learned from the Italian pop
maestros so beloved of his mum, men like Lucio Battisti and Adriano
Celentano. An exquisite, bittersweet state that’s neither overly dark
nor simplistically happy. It’s the Aeroplane way - wake up and smell
the kerosene.