Its complex web of emotion and sound make for one of the most confounding yet gripping albums made in 2014; while it isn’t without its flaws, it captures the zeitgeist in a way that few other albums have managed this year, and has both revelers and detractors speaking passionately.

Combined with Köner's solo work, Biokinetics is a pivotal moment in electronic music and a decisive moment in one of the most important and brilliant oeuvres in contemporary music.

A largely beatific album, it propagates love over high living, but also shipped is the urban locale, the one-dimensional serenading and the cartoonish sexuality that informs a significant percentage of mainstream r'n'b, substituted for the same precocious wisdom, emotional intelligence, writerly nuance and reasoned portrayal of lust displayed on the Tumblr post.

Good Kid, m.A.A.d City impresses with its diversity and scope, but it's not just a record to admire: put simply, there's an embarrassment of killer material here.

That’s the achievement of Spaces: not simply to replicate the music of Frahm’s concerts, divine though it is, but to evoke the events’ communal intimacy.

It’s the sheer energy on display that pushes Run The Jewels 2 through. The production is popping throughout, funky as hell, and often dotted with unexpected twists and turns.

The Idler Wheel... is her most adult work yet, a record that's underpinned by the fundamental grown-up characteristic of embracing one's own ridiculous, stubborn dysfunction because, Hell, what other option is there?

You could even argue that To Be Kind is Gira’s first rock ‘n’ roll album, and though Swans’ records are invariably seedy, To Be Kind is downright sexy, tender like a snake and surprisingly intimate.

Holter may write stunning pop-tinged songs, but she’s an experimental artist through and through.

Burial's appointment as cemetery caretaker, presiding over the skeletons of rave, was always going have limited traction--after all, there's only so many ways you can express a bereavement--but perhaps in this EP he's found new purpose amongst the ruins.

You’re Dead! finds ways to keep things pumping.

It's not without faults, but overall it's a undoubtedly a very welcome gift.

It’s as if they’ve recaptured innocence. It’s the only way to describe what you feel had to have happened in order for the band to preserve the very essence of what was the music of their youth, in such a way that goes beyond replication.

Too Bright creates a captive audience in its effusive refusal to let you look away.

The Seer is clearly brilliant, and may even be Swans' finest album yet, three decades in.

Björk’s most fully realised, accessible record in years.

The result, unexpectedly, is his most ambitious record yet.

As long as you’re prepared to accept that it’s a Hollywood production inspired more by Steely Dan and California highways than Cajmere and French basements, then Random Access Memories is a treat.

Voices From The Lake is serene and sinister, hides more than it reveals and is so entirely absorbing that you could lose yourself in it indefinitely.

Reform Club's prime influences may be rooted in techno's past but what it lacks in formal innovation it more than makes up for with a rich and profound personal expression that will keep you company long after the rest of the world has shut down for the night.

Bécs is seldom unapproachable; it’s also his style to leave just enough beauty poking through the seams.

Run the Jewels is savage and witty, rich in gritty truths and genuinely affecting wisdom. It may not be the best thing either artist has done, but fans of both will still find plenty to love.

In its finished form, Miguel's Kaleidoscope Dream is a testament to his evolved songwriting, reverence to the past, and refusal to be pigeonholed.

It is certainly a gorgeous production, and tracks will possibly come across differently in a mix, even if it is not quite what many will have been expecting.

As with any major pop album, LP1 is a crew effort, there’s no doubt as to whose hand is on the rudder.

It's not going to make techno fans fall in love with noise, or noise fans fall in love with techno, but for those who, er, bat for both sides, it's a dream come true.

The album’s electronic feel sharpens the idea of sterility and a frictionless modern life, while providing, as British electronica has done since the days of John Foxx, a lexicon for existential nothingness.

As a portrait of a city, and a person, Acid Rap is about as good--and as honest--as they come.

13 Moons holds a broader appeal than some of his more abstract or challenging LPs. That said, there’s nothing particularly straightforward about the album.

At Shaking the Habitual’s core are the processes of deconstruction and reconstruction, so rare in the tradition of mostly reiterative pop music that the album feels transgressive, even though its underlying ideologies are reasonable rather than radical.

LHF offer up their most extensive, immersive work to date.

A record whose main theme may be death, but whose power comes from Kozelek’s vivid celebration of life.

Despite the occasional tendency to soar above when her songs could benefit from some earthiness, in the main Ware's sheer, confident boldness carries the day.

If Goldenheart was a monumental but monolithic edifice of an album, Blackheart is a shape-shifting house of mirrors in permanent flux, light where its predecessor was heavy, welcoming instead of forbidding.

As anyone who’s spent a night lurking by the subwoofers knows, these tracks have the power to rearrange internal organs. Uncomfortable though that may sound, it’s a pleasure to experience.

Sandison and Eoin have produced an album that, in spite of its considerable runtime, is genuinely absorbing and convincing in its narrative sweep.

Beyoncé is a stronger personal statement than Magna Carta… Holy Grail, less self-indulgent than The 20/20 Experience, and (in its own way) as dark and confrontational as Yeezus.

It's an ear-catching work, more immediate than anything Killer Mike has done since his brief commercial moment of glory in 2003.

This honest emotional core is something that Vincent has always put into his music, but rarely has it felt quite so effortless as it does here. It’s the kind of album you could imagine non-house and techno fans getting behind quite easily, and shows that his appeal shouldn’t just be limited to vinyl collectors.

Banks continues to get away with her obnoxiousness--and while the quality of the music remains disproportionate to the hype, it does make her bratty rejection of the rap establishment feel that much more thrilling.

This CD version has some outstanding moments, and at times is a masterful lesson in dream-like production.

The music is certainly some of El's most engaging yet, and should possess real lasting power.

Thomson's manifesto is articulate, incisive and practically book-length.

This is Kanye’s record: a cornucopia of concepts and collaborators reduced to a singular vision. That vision is what makes Yeezus stand out as one of Kanye’s finest moments.

Each track says something different, but with his honest subject matter and his unique arrangements constantly in focus, Snaith never loses his way.

If his aim was to give musical form to the eastern DRC’s “unnerving beauty and unflinching horror”, then A U R O R A is a dazzling success.

This album is as life-affirming a piece of music as anything else you’ll hear this year: there’s nothing more uplifting than a good band getting better.

Henke is always at great pains to direct Monolake so that it exists in a constant dialogue with the dancefloor and with its multifarious abstract leanings, Ghosts pushes that challenge to its limits. That it succeeds on both counts whilst balancing a fictive pathway with real emotion only makes it more remarkable.

As an exhilarating listen and the perfect reflection of Black Jazz Records’ singular musicians, Black Jazz Signature is a record you will probably keep and return to for life.

Everything about the record suggests a separation and a self-contained existence, like a second novel, and is wonderful for it.

In short, it's big, dumb, and a lot of fun, but the overriding feel to TNGHT is that it feels closer to being the start of something great than a great record in itself.

Yes, fine songs. But in part, though, a little of the success of July should be attributed to producer Randall Dunn.

It’s an album that feels measured and well timed and yet avoids sounding over-polished or awkwardly stage-managed.

For an album that, at times, is beautiful, it doesn't hypnotise you, it doesn't entrance you, and even its best moments fail to stay in your head.

Moodymann has inflated wildly, now standing at a monstrous 27 tracks in length through a generous stuffing of media samples and, in typical Kenny Dixon Jr fashion, a bunch of material that has already seen release.

Soused may not be the best record either Sunn O))) or Walker have released in the last few years--those accolades go to Monoliths & Dimensions and The Drift, respectively--but it’s still an endlessly compelling work, the match between singular solo artist and the pivotal group every bit as thrilling as you’d expect.

It is certainly every bit its predecessor, but through a more meditative, contemplative use of elements it is even better.

XXX might just represent the most polished and fully formed manifestation of street-meets-art rap so far.

This may be Carla Bozulich’s take on pop music, but Boy is rarely anything short of cathartic.

Sebenza demonstrates yet again that LV are an act as admirable as they are on, on their day, masterful.

By and large, the songs on Why Do the Heathen Rage? are brilliantly executed hybrids that manage to subvert received ideas even once you’ve processed the album’s premise, thanks to superb transposing and Daniel’s knack for lashing together motifs from utterly different styles.

Only when they tip the 'dumb' into an absurdism, in bouts of monotony or mindlessly devolved weirdness, do Metz sound anything like punk, or indeed art. Herein lies the retardation.

Although imperfect, The Electric Lady is a huge statement.

Panda Bear’s fourth full-length is a mature album of peace and reckoning, one that weaves ghostly textures, plumbs watery depths, but ultimately happens on something comforting and tranquil.

So, while ...Like Clockwork doesn’t have that many feel good hits of the summer, there are plenty of lullabies to paralyze.

In Conflict is an impressive record of worthy content, but the day he finds a way to reconcile his musical chops to his pop ear, then Owen Pallett will surely make his masterpiece.

More sweeping and grand than any of their previous records, the trio’s fourth LP is by far their most cinematic.

An album that is both powerful in its execution of an idea, but also quite sure of its own modest signature.

Only ‘The Seasons Won’t Change (And Neither Will You)’ feels slightly extraneous. Otherwise, Restless Idylls is all we might have hoped for in a Tropic Of Cancer LP.

There are moments of dynamism, like the excellent quivering steppers’ bassline in ‘Time’, or ‘In’’s disemboweled grime-pulse sounds. But even these tracks feel weighed down by a relentless paranoiac mood that soon begins to tire, their gestures sparse and restrained in a manner that’s presumably meant to be evocative, but often just feels unadventurous.

The hard-won fruits of this album have been worth it.

Prurient’s masterpiece.... Frozen Niagara Falls is also one of Prurient’s most accessible works, with Fernow’s arrangements constantly pulling you along.

It’s really, really beautiful--beauty as it should be in music: something precious, elusive and exotic, or indeterminate, a little sad and more than a little elegant.

Words and Music by St Etienne really brings it on itself, and the result is totally vapid.

Despite a couple of missteps and the odd moment of doubt, I can't remember the last time a series of three full-length records released this close together has captured me--and others--in the way that this has.

Doris is miles ahead of 2010’s Earl, and on it, Earl surpasses nearly all of his contemporaries (save perhaps “King of New York” Kendrick Lamar, who is comparatively a grizzled veteran at 26).

Drone albums are by their nature immersive, but it’s rare to come across one so tempestuous, evocative and compelling from start to finish as Wilderness of Mirrors.

Overgrown is a heartening step in the right direction, and reassurance that Blake’s talents are far from on the wane.

Their obvious musical talent and distinctive voice make Silence Yourself an uncompromising and very enjoyable paean to individual agency.

Packed with bold ideas and striking new forms, Da Mind Of Traxman Volume 2 is as good a testament as any to the ongoing vitality of footwork.

It’s a very puzzling record, but the last thing you should do is try and puzzle it out: just go with it and you’ll find its strange charms working much more quickly than you might have thought at first.

R.I.P is a fantastical, fascinating album: as Actress intended, it feels not really of this world.

In terms of compositional sophistication, Doyle struggles to compete with the Jon Hopkinses of this world, his emotional brushstrokes unambiguous and delineated. But considering he’s a 22 year old home producer, comparing Total Strife Forever to last year’s EP shows that he’s growing exponentially.

It’s a shame that their debut album is so short on variety and surprises, and doesn’t capture the imagination past a couple of listens.

It’s an impressive achievement--and, what’s more, one that’s likely to piss of his fans a treat.

The self-awareness of this conflict makes Life Is Good a more compelling listen than Nas has delivered in a while.

From the evocative title on down, there is nothing about Cut 4 Me that doesn’t challenge the listener’s expectations of what R&B can be in 2013 and beyond.

Punish, Honey intrigues, but it’s the prospect of where Seb Gainsborough goes next that’s really fascinating.

R Plus Seven feels isolated and eerily post-human. Musically it may be Oneohtrix Point Never’s most accessible work yet, but the emotional pull it exerts is minimal.

It might be their fifteenth album in a 30-year career, but Push The Sky Away proves beyond all doubt--even mine--that the group is still at the top of their game.

Shabazz Palaces deserve credit where it’s due for building their sound outward; if Black Up established their status as hip-hop outliers, then Lese Majesty solidifies their place in the pantheon of rap’s oddball geniuses.

As its title suggests, Quixotism’s narrative arc is obscure, and as such the album contains no real highlights or low points; instead, each part maintains a discrete identity of its own, serving both as groundwork for each subsequent part and the basis for its counterpoint.

The Man Who Died In His Boat is, to put it simply, more of the same--and whether that’s a worthy thing for an album to be is largely down to your view on this period of Grouper’s output. For what it’s worth, it’s absolutely fine by me.

Nobody's denying Herndon's ambition and technical chops, but the goals of this album--however successfully they might be achieved--are often unappealing; the sonic outcomes, regrettably, a little dull.

It’s not there yet, but Beast Mode is an excellent place to start.

Cutler’s music hasn’t tended to concern itself with tension so much as otherwordly harmony. When he introduces a bit of friction--between the real and the imagined, the grit of life and the sheen of fantasy--the results are all the more seductive.

In Visa, Ripatti has constructed an album evocative of one extremely specific place--and it’s a place which couldn’t have been accessed by anybody but him.

By taking electronic to mean, largely, removed introspection, WIXIX might be the one example of a guitar band who, by fully embracing electronica, have regressed.