SINGLE REVIEW: In-Flight Movie – Factory
‘Factory’ opens in a haze of weaving, meandering electronic beats, their steady cruise peppered with the soft shuffle of cymbals. There’s a patience to the introduction, an almost cinematic pacing that sets the stage before the vocals slide in with an arty, ‘80s-infused theatricality. It’s an entrance that immediately establishes personality—stylised without pretension, sitting somewhere between synth-pop cool and art-rock drama. Beneath it all, there’s a restless, wiry synth-punk undercurrent, giving the track a low-level volatility that keeps you on edge. The sound feels polished yet human, each detail placed with intention.
The first real rupture comes as the synth textures give way to guitars that rage with a sudden, almost physical force. The drums shift from understated accompaniment to a driving heartbeat, adding a surge of urgency. It’s a dynamic push-and-pull—moments of lightness anchored by shadows, moments of weight cutting through the gloss. That contrast is where the track really locks in, allowing each return to the synth-led passages to feel like a breath before the next plunge.
As it builds for the final time, ‘Factory’ steps fully into sparse/dense post-rock terrain, stretching space before collapsing it in on itself. The closing section throws caution aside, with distorted noise-rock chaos bleeding into a reverb-drenched guitar solo that howls against the fading backdrop. By the end, In-Flight Movie have taken you through a set of transformations that feel deliberate yet organic, turning ‘Factory’ into something more than a song—it’s a mood cycle, one you’ll want to sink back into as soon as it’s over.
