Producer Nigel Godrich has made of this a modern masterclass--and one that sets the bar for collaborations extremely high.

It arguably only packs one real standout track, but Cellar Door is still a refined and fluid long-player.

Like his pioneering UK heroes, this hour-long LP works best lost in the moment with your ears nestled between a pair of good speakers and your head in the clouds.

A haunting memorial.

With everything lathered in exquisite, 90s-sounding euphoria, the duo prove to be irresistible, once again.

Belief System is not only Special Request’s most definitive piece of work, but it will also, probably, prove to be Paul Woolford’s magnum opus.

A welcome 40-minute excursion indeed.

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

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.

‘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.

There are only nine tracks in all, with pieces such as the mesmerising ‘Boids’ and the blissful ‘Glider’ less focused on the floor. It ensures you never feel like the same tricks are being repeated, and the power of those mellifluous voices never wanes. [Jun 2018, p.114]

It makes for a tumultuous trip that has all the highs and lows of a real relationship, and one that sounds as good alone, on headphones, as it will in the club.

Where ‘Coastal Grooves’ felt like an indie kid playing at being an r’n’b superstar, here the metamorphosis seems complete.

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

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

Once you delve in you’re taken on a guided tour through the duo’s illustrious back catalogue in a quite majestic way.

The most exciting thing about Comfort is the sense that this is an artist who has only scratched the surface of her talent.

The dark, incendiary electronica of Mr Dynamite harking back to the anything-goes post-punk aesthetic of the late 70s. The work of Benge, Tuung’s Phil Winter, Cabaret Voltaire frontman Stephen Mallinder and everyone’s favourite mellifluous alt-crooner, John Grant, they ensure the record never stands still.

Although some of the arrangements and electronic embellishments are lavish, there are few obvious peaks and troughs apart from the epic throb of ‘Thea’.

It’s an accomplished record.

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.

It does nothing new--its tone barely changes over the single 54-minute piece--yet it makes you feel really, really good. Always perverse, Eno achieves the most when he does the least.

Strings also form the structure of ‘Fuel The Fire’, one of the album’s standouts. And then there’s the ominous ‘Paradise’, which places light and darkness side by side in a tremendous exercise of juxtaposition. That same balance is present through the album and, combined with Illum’s knack for making everything sound so exquisite, makes it a superb little record.

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.

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.

While the bold brush strokes of Personality may alienate some hardened purists, it may just turn out to be the defining release of Scuba's career.

What you get here is more of the same star-crossed rave-pop.

The result is skull-crushing, claustrophobic and wonderful.