Comparisons to Moodymann, Dilla and Theo Parrish have been forthcoming, but Davis Jr's vista spreads wider.

Tracks regularly clock in at eight, nine and 10 minutes, yet Blondes never outstay their welcome.

This album trades in bleakness, but there’s beauty in it.

[An] ambitious, oddball, lush, relentlessly sexy electro-funk and twisted disco record.

It’s intense, ambitious and, in places, uneasy listening, but at the core of Overgrown lies unalloyed beauty.

With production help from Four Tet and Adrian Sherwood, he raps tenaciously over dark beats.

A charming, optimistic LP, delivered with a smile.

Opener ‘Miami Theme’ sets the tone, Erika Janunger’s voice floating over brooding piano chords, like a Lynchian club scene.

With only a couple of uninspiring tracks, this is an ambitious game-changer that’ll leave you with a renewed optimism about the future of music.

Fusing sonic intricacies, captivating melodies and compelling storytelling, Dirty Projectors’ eighth LP is their most honest and affecting yet.

The whole album drips with a palpable sense of lust and intensity.

There are no beats, just dynamic peaks and troughs, and the hugely textural and evocative results are unsettling yet absorbing.

The whole album drips with Caribbean zest, the tropical bounce of 'Can't Get Enough Of Myself' and the pumping 'Rendezvous Girl' balanced by eccentric slowies such as the oddball power ballad 'Run The Races'. There's plenty more too, candied but with class and pop bite.

Set them around rhythmically experimental dance tracks (‘An English House’, ‘Community’) and you have intelligent evolution.

The middle section may lean a little too heavily on balladry, but if you're looking for 2012's most sophisticated pop star, you may just have found her.

Mayer has always had an ability to weave the richest dancefloor cheese into forms both experimental and emotional, and here he’s chosen exactly the right people to amplify different sides of his music.

Seaton, as Call Super, invokes Peel’s memory on Fabric 92--if not in sound, then in the personal nature and spirit that percolates throughout.

It’s not perfect--a couple of tracks slightly overdo the asthmatic-sounding compression--but mainly it’s a really impressively consistent and well-structured listen, and definitely worth the wait.

Sometimes the constant shifts can leave you reeling and wondering what Jlin is trying to get at, but it’s never long before they pick you up again and pull you back into it. This is the sound of a huge talent blossoming.

The effect is one of hypnosis and seduction, a type of black magic boogie that acts as the perfect catalyst for moments of intense intimacy.

A welcome 40-minute excursion indeed.

Mastered by Berlin’s leading engineer Tobias Freud, the craftsmanship is simply untouchable, but the absence of any absolute stormers creates a slight shortfall.

If you’re a fan, you won’t be disappointed. ... If you’re new to the zoo, prepare for a 20-track musical trip you won’t forget in a hurry.

Effectively present(ish), past and downtempo, it’s a fascinating glimpse into one of dance’s most fertile minds.

Translating to ‘skin’ in English, its urgent, high-pitched signal follows the melancholy first-take of the artist’s vocal, who’s sung before but never with such vulnerability. It marks the start of a soaring new direction.

A comforting throb fills the album, an electronic heartbeat that soundtracks the swirling, arpeggiated ambience of Hippies, or the trippy acid-techno of 'Stop' with its spitting hi-hats and skirls of cathedral organ.

You may find it tough to get past the religiosity, but if you can, there’s real magic here.

Occasionally it's awkward, but for the most part it shows there's still plenty of life in the old Head yet. [Apr 2018, p.91]

Iif you’ve got a predilection for Vampire Weekend’s baroque alt-pop, Tame Impala’s psychedelica or the hazy bombast of M83 you’ll find this a comforting, welcoming destination.

A pretty heady blend of neo-soul, funk, jazz, boom bap and house, but overall things veer a little too close to the vanilla here. [Apr 2018, p.91]

An album that’s underpinned by atmospherics that flicker between stalling and soaring, Abysma is blissfully evocative from start to finish.

Versions sees the Idjuts bring new life to a collection of sprawling, dubby disco from the vaults.

My House From All Angles, comes some 27 years after his first effort. Almost nothing has changed in the interim: it’s all about drum machine, acid riff, repeated vocal, the odd disco loop--job’s a good ‘un. Kids a third of Dunn’s age go mad trying to create retro house, but he does it effortlessly, because it’s all he’s ever needed to do.

Sometimes it's slick, sometimes it's heartbreaking, but it definitely sounds like it'll suit a festival scenario with lasers on lock... and it's definitely the sound of an artist finding themselves.

Toddla T delves into new territory on his first release since 2012, fusing elements of gospel (‘Ungrateful’), funk (‘BlackJack21’), reggae (‘Foundation’), grime and dubstep (‘Foreign Light’). It’s a brave move to incorporate so many styles but, on the whole, it works.

Our only gripe is with its brevity--29 minutes is too short.

On 'Franks Kaktus' they squeal and screech against skirls of powerful blues strumming and thumping congas; things calm down on 'Flickor Och Pojkar' ('boys and girls' in Swedish), whose vibes and languid bass recall classic Air.

Patten’s third release is a whistle-stop tour of the UK’s hardcore continuum, never pausing long enough to get bored.

Tension comes through not only in the album’s titles--‘Storms’, ‘Screens’ and ‘Eco Friend’--but in the tone of the tracks, where at one moment a song delves deep into an urgent, synthetic cadence, and then expands into an ambient sense of the vast beauty of the physical world.

Like the sprawling city it celebrates, The Road: Part One is endlessly eclectic.

He's hijacked techno, destroyed its propulsion, and created something intriguingly spaced out.

Zombie Zombie are clearly aiming for the lysergic head as well as the ecstatic feet and the end result is an organic concoction that doesn’t disappoint.

Brighton six-piece The Go Team! imbue Semicircle with the high-octane vibes of a marching band taking on block party jams, Northern Soul and cutesy indie pop. It might sound crazy, but it works beautifully.

It's the instrumentals that impress the most.

You get gold-plated productions that will stand the test of time.

Take a cult Bristolian label and add an African influence from Italian musician Clap! Clap!, and we might just have the best fusion record to kick of 2017 so far.

There’s head-melting brilliance here, but he makes you work for it.

The tracks without vocal turns are left feeling slightly lacking, but the killer outweighs the filler.

There’s nothing new here, but you know what? That’s more than fine.

The momentum does slacken, though, and the album doesn’t feel particularly structured. Still, songs such as the fierce ‘Scum’ and the stately ‘No More’ are worthy additions to the band’s catalogue, and have far more grit and vividness than you’d expect from any band 37 years into their career.

It’s hugely fun and definitely full of Human Energy, ensuring that it’s an album well-named.

[A] collage of raw, percussive grooves that combines post-punk, performance poetry, analogue synth explorations, crypto-techno and acid. It’s challenging, yes, but endlessly hypnotic, too.

Providence is a jittery robot trip-out, but it’s full of juicy strangeness that will find favour with both fans of both techno and oddball electronica.

‘Love Sick’ is filled with sensual longing and ‘Mind Games’ screams out anger over crashing synths. ‘Trainwreck’, meanwhile, is an instant banger with Banks’ aggressive lyrics structured around trap-infused production. Elsewhere, though, soul-baring ballad ‘Mother Earth’ and stripped-back closer ‘To The Hilt’ are more easily forgotten.

It takes us back to the late 00s, when the likes of Martyn, Sepalcure and Joy Orbison were bringing lushness and melody to (post) dubstep--and that’s no bad place to be at all.

A total contrast to 'Banquet' and 'Two More Years', die-hard fans may need to give it a few spins, but in daring to reinvent themselves, Bloc Party show an impressive evolution.

We The Generation is full of catchy, radio-friendly earworms tailor-made for maximum impact at their blistering live performances.

With a new band alongside him, he fills The Animal Spirits with haunting brain-melters that fuse modular synths, jazzy musicianship and trance-like rhythms.

The influence of earthy sub-Saharan blues is readily apparent on the choppy fretwork of ‘Walrus’, and the raw loops he creates by on-the-fly sampling have universal appeal. Similarly his voice, with its soaring inflections and echoes of Sting and Jeff Buckley, is a hugely effective tool.

In particular, the beautiful and ambient narco-breakbeat of ‘4am Exhale’ and swooning downtempo of ‘9 Elms Over River Eno (Channel 9)’ are two gentle, aural hugs from these two esteemed purveyors of sonic sunshine.

While Under The Sun isn’t quite as strong as its monumental predecessor ‘76:14’, Pritchard still has an eye for coaxing out the astoundingly beautiful from ‘cold’ electronics.

‘Recursion’ sprawls across its six minutes like modern-day Bach, while ‘Prism Pt 1’ is loping analogue house that jerks and pivots to an idiosyncratic tempo.

All the samples and rhythms here you’ve heard a million times--but somehow, with this weirdness and his sheer panache as a producer, Vibert creates brand new rave dynamite, guaranteed to get dancefloors sweat-soaked and maniacal.

Epoch is perhaps a little overly fluffy at times, but plenty of sunshine pokes through the clouds.

For large parts, it’s funky, luxurious and giddy, with the Tony Allen Afrobeat collab ‘2nd Chance’ just the icing on the cake. A pleasant surprise.

Their post-rock roots are still detectable on New Spirit, but there’s a dark-hearted dance aesthetic filtering through it.

There’s the risk of pastiche here--and sometimes the slow builds, churning synths and sinister whispers seem generic, like you’ve heard them before--but at their best they sound elemental, and perfect for the darkest of dancefloors.

Mixing organic instrumentation, such as the ethereal guitar of ‘Vision Trail’, this album laces its cuddliness with melancholy.

There remains something unknowable about them; their presence is always somewhat enigmatic, served only by the gilded sheen of their music which remains ornate but, crucially, as approachable as ever.

There’s enough in the graceful deep techno and misty synths of ‘Far Away From A Distance’ and the subtly jacking ‘Flying Or Falling’ to satisfy both head and feet.

This isn’t going to win over any newcomers but, when you tune in to its ebbing and flowing intensities, it can be totally transporting.

Who Are You? shuttles between Honolulu and Jamaica as he splices lap steel guitar and rim shots, before spinning off into Chris Brann-style deep house on ‘Endless Sundays’. Things get even more somnambulant on the dubby ‘Gravity Waves’, which threatens to keel over at any minute.

This is music born from information overload and the quick slide toward environmental and political chaos, but while Gamble threatens to leave you scarred, he also offers refuge, too, in the form of his signature styles.

The album’s percussive moments are perfect for sunny festival slots. Elsewhere, ‘London Lights’ is comparatively relaxed, though its slow-burning synth-line stretches into club territory, and the expansive sonic landscape throughout ‘Black Prism’ could be a James Blake cut.

At times the LP’s nostalgic outlook can be all-consuming, The likes of ‘Memory’ and ‘Vacuume’ do lighten the tone, but it would have been nice to see Haley also tackle darker timbres more often, as he does on ‘Syrthio’ and the title track.

It explores a plethora of bold sounds and styles with a distinctive ethereal edge--and just a touch of delectable curios

Concrete Desert is a potent blend of cinematic music-for-outsiders and deep, drone-leaning sounds.

Ultimately, the sincerity and craft of the composition and production make it much more emotionally satisfying than the untold PCO knock-offs out there.

It eventually drifts into spaced-out blissfulness on the final four tracks, bringing a melodic ear-trip to a close.

Zola Jesus’ distinctive, dramatic voice has always been the prime weapon in her arsenal, and on new album ‘Okovi’ it sounds more brooding than ever.

It’s not always entirely straightforward listening, but when it comes together--like on the military march-meets-indie/techno schaffel of ‘Selling The Shadow’--it’s a timely reminder of Weatherall’s knack for putting smiles on faces

Then there’s her voice, sweet and breathy, uttering lyrics that are always in Spanish, yet sometimes content just to form unfamiliar, onomatopoeic sounds. It’s endlessly bewitching.

‘Superfresh’ is less than the sum of its disco parts, though, while the less said about ‘Hot Property’ the better. But it picks up with ‘Something About You’ and ‘Summer Girl’, while ‘Carla’ is an electro-funk classic.

There are times when it does feel a little dry, but it’s still an album that’s definitely deserving of your time.

Millennial inertia is a target--see ‘It’s All Good’ and ‘Nobody Cares’--but their bite is balanced with blear and bounce in equal measure.

The aural familiarity of tracks such as ‘Anyware’, with its warp-speed cellphone melodies, imbibes Motion Graphics with warmth and, above all, joy.

It hangs on the pair’s innate ability to find light and space amid the sturm und drang.

The best tracks are ‘In Paris’, a song which Lady Gaga would be proud of; the disco-tinged ‘Other Guys’, a brilliant coming together of her voice and former Ima Robot member Tim Anderson’s production; and the brooding ‘By Your Side’, which wouldn’t sound out of place on the new London Grammar album.

It's hard not to get emotional. Cavernous drums and multi-layered vocals characterise 'Open Your Eyes', which has the ambitious sweep of classic 80s pop (think Berlin) and, with glacial, droning chords and Deheza's quivering, velvety vocals, the beatless 'Confusion' may well reduce you to mush.

There are a few tear-out moments (see the unhinged 'Black Gates' and the volatile 'Burnerz'), but the biggest rewards come from more alien and introspective moments such as 'Glass Harp Interlude'.

There are certainly moments of huge elegance and even dancefloor nirvana here, but the rigidity seems to stifle some of the magic in comparison to the album’s predecessor.

With only six new songs (and just seven tracks in total), it could have been a longer trip.

A charming, understated record.

Love School Of Seven Bells and The XX? You'll like this.

While it’s hard not to view the five solo instrumentals as some of the strongest work here, overall Getting Closer is well worth some private investigating.

If you stop trying to hear it as grime, and listen to it as a sci-fi movie of an album, a classy electronica dream journey through a high tech Orient, then that gloss becomes a strength, and it really does stand up on its own.

This debut from Tinie Tempah producer Labrinth sits comfortably in the Kanye West school of autotuned mid-youth crisis, yet this album isn't without merit.

Sticking with a winning formula can be commendable, but this is pales in comparison with past glories.