Air release their seventh studio album, taking inspiration from George Méliès 1902 silent science fiction movie of the same name – now restored. The soundtrack delivers eleven tracks of retro-futurism, blessed by Air’s unmistakeably stoic charm.

As per usual, Godin and Dunckel’s balmy instrumentals bristle with Gallic allure; the music recorded and produced with impeccable attention to detail, allowing you to focus fully on the duo’s propulsive, interweaving harmonic structures.

However, in comparative terms, Air’s own adventure into the airwaves does not quite share the same novelty or wonder (I would imagine) as the original movie once did. Air’s sci-fi serenading sounds forced and strained, too honed on trying to capture an era rather than the flavour of the movie – or perhaps taking the risk of giving it a more modern Total Recall.

As psychedelic guitar solos buzz and bluster over the chugging computer-rhythms of Parade and Lava, one wonders if they haven’t got a little lost between soundtrack mode and what they really want to be doing.

When taken at face value, Le Voyage Dans La Lune is slightly more appealing. The moody Moon Fever and Who Am I Now deliver the sort of languid mystique the band are best known for, but with the album barely lasting 30 minutes, the record barely reaches orbit nevermind the celestial impact crater one might have hoped for.

Soundtracks are always a risk, and although Air have tried to make that leap whilst sticking to their trademark esoteric vibe, Le Voyage Dans La Lune remains a pleasant, if unremarkable listen, treading perilously close to the drop in standards one might have initially feared upon learning of the project, but surviving, just.