Asking for more of a good thing isn't something to baulk at. On Dying…, Aussel and Miniawy have created a brave, if not pertinent, record of experimental brain-benders, building on their previous work to make something altogether stranger—much like our fractured world.

Although the album has energy in spades early on, its momentum crashes four tracks in by design—by the time it's over, you wonder if maybe FKA twigs should have just called it a night.

If Lopatin's recent albums wowed with their density, Tranquilizer highlights the preciousness of its constituent parts by making it sound like they might flit away at any second.

The LP's concerted efforts toward eclecticism feel more like a frantic effort towards containment, playing out like rote exercises in proving Snaith's stylistic mastery rather than genuine moments of strobe-lit inspiration.

No Lube is an impressively literate expansion of Peaches' sonic universe and stands in stark contrast to the one-note tonality of their previous work.

Sexistential is a document of Robyn the artist reaching full potential, thanks to Robyn the human reaching inner peace.

The impact of Written in Changes on its own terms may feel a little elusive, yet it's admirable to hear someone as musically omnivorous as Emerson continue to allow herself to change.

If it was difficult to fathom what could surpass Forever, Ya Girl's genius, there are no signs of sophomore slump on hooke's law. Building on the modern R&B template of her debut, her second album accomplishes a Herculean task: being conceptual and moving as well as fun.

Those aching for Parker's winning synthesis of classic rock's melancholy and poppy euphoria still have plenty to chew on here. To ravers, Deadbeat might sound like not much more than beach bar music.

SickElixir channels his metal background into a masterpiece of slanted techno. These 14 molten tracks judder from industrial hip-hop to syncopated sludge, redefining what a techno album can be.

They race through their earliest, long-abandoned digicore work with newfound dexterity and a fiercer sense of self.

The arresting thing about Robertson, and what makes her latest so effective, is her aversion to absolutes.

Essex Honey, with its cool, crisp textures and elliptical rhythms, is expansive and beguiling, an inviting place to rest in a chaotic year.

The Passionate Ones, ponders late-stage capitalism, loneliness and love over an impeccable blend of breezy indie pop and grainy electro-funk. Brown's deadpan baritone is loose and relaxed, and he croons like he's drawling in bed. He delivers stunning poetic refrains with heart and the kind of vulnerable confidence only developed after climbing out of rock bottom.

AIN'T NO DAMN WAY!'s 12 tracks are a cohesive joyride through Kaytra's earliest influences, indulging his omnivorous taste for rap, jazz and orchestral music through the connective tissue of house.

At its best, Black Star shows an artist amplifying Afrodiasporic club music with modern verve, unlocking a new wave of Black pop stardom all the while.

For a while, "Techno De Favelado" locks into a satisfying techno kick, before hollowing out and ultimately collapsing into a familiar funk pattern. At times, the record's use of popular dance music tropes fails. .... But really, Radio Libertada ! is mostly spice, and rarely sugar.

It's his most mature and realised vision to date.

The project consists of six previously released remixes, which have been butchered into new edits half their original size, one remastered demo track leaked online 15 years ago ("Gone Gone Gone") and one new remix. .... This may not be the Veronica we wanted, but the Veronica we have is a pleasant enough nostalgia exercise for the golden era of late '90s dance music.

Muzeyyen's technical proficiency is undeniable, but somewhat beside the point. Beside Myself comes off less like a manifesto than a scream—and it's all the stronger for it.

The language of contrasts she creates only immerses us further in Laini Tani's transcendent, nearly purgatorial atmosphere as it builds. But beyond its conscious atemporality, Laini Tani's beauty is what makes it so entrancing.

Nazar's deadpan delivery bleeds into Demilitarize's rough parchment of kuduro, blotting out Guerilla's sharper-edged scroll, sometimes more heavily than it needs to. It's a slight blemish on a record that otherwise sees Nazar further reshape kuduro into a singular style that speaks to the shut-ins as much as it does the dancers.

This album has an overall ephemeral quality. It's commanding when it's on, but aside from a few highlights, it feels like a minor work in both artists' discography. Time will tell.

It's a confidently self-referential record that goes with her own flow, settling into a sensual downtempo sound as effortless as it is studied.

The mixtape jumps from acid basslines to Daft Punk-style chops in the time it takes to draw a breath. Just take "Stateside," which layers a goody bag of textures (scratchy percussion loops, vinyl scratches, stratospheric leads, and no fewer than three different bass tones) that whirl away from a breathless hook like petals. With her third full-length project, PinkPantheress refurbishes the refurbishers for yet another new generation

Shell~Wave reaches intense highs. But, at times, it falls victim to the imperfect nature of spontaneity due to the pronounced use of delay. .... Shell~Wave bottles the veteran's personal experience with his machines and delivers it to listeners with the improvisation of a free jazz musician.

Like Dogsbody, Pirouette is a wildly feral album. This time, though, we're inclined to sway with the beat rather than thrash against it.

These songs are fast, coming at you from all angles, with little time to think twice. If anything, the record is a large, flashing stop light for anyone who dares to try her again.