Ambitious and homespun all at once, Welcome to Mikrosector-50 is like diving into the overgrown imagination of a young child.

Like Seeds Of Destiny, Life After Death is an unsettling work with glimmers of positivity.

The inherent structural flaws of any given remix album also plague TKOL RMX--a lack of consistency, flow or narrative.

Some of Davis's early records still sound exciting because of the raw talent and vision behind them, and because of the way he stitched together the threads of old songs into captivating new ones. Now, his music sounds bland, as if it was designed for chillout compilations or cocktail lounges.

Standing alongside DeGraw's contribution as an EP standout, Teengirl Fantasy offer an all too brief remix of "Monkey Riches" that takes in analogue house, indie thrash and dreamy Machinedrum-style juke.

Chromeo still aren't the most serious guys in the world, but White Women is a smart pop album rendered in vivid, 3-D detail.

Callus is the sound of someone exorcising their demons with nothing but a few pieces of gear and his own snarling weapon of a voice--and growing stronger for it.

The fundamental problem with Mst is not that it sounds like someone else, but that these ten tracks rarely match the profound emotional gravitas of that significant other.

Drown Out really lets his music breathe.

With Teebs and Shlohmo you often float away, with Lineage your feet feel firmly planted on the ground.

Dunn fulfills the title's promise by exploring other styles, though most fall squarely within the "old-school house" category. ... Other digressions don't fare as well. ... Still, when My House From All Angles hits, it hits hard.

Sure, it's still quite messy, but in separating the vast array of influences and ideas present in Ras G's deceptively complex music, Earth lays it all out in a much more digestible manner.

The whole album sounds like it was mastered from a chewed-up old C90--it's post-chillwave music, busy and glitchy, but as relaxing as a soak in a warm bath.

Pagan is a singular vision. There's plenty to enjoy--no individual track is a misstep. But consumed as whole, Pagan goes from sugary pop to sickly sweet, and is ultimately unsatisfying.

My Love Is A Bulldozer is a deeply ostentatious album, though knowingly so.

Considering the odds, it shows an animated and still vigorous trio worthy of its semi-legendary status.

What The Journey Man most clearly captures is that taste for excess and self-indulgence. It's the work of an elder statesman who still has a special touch, but who doesn't know when to stop himself.

Though the record at times leans toward Pantha du Prince's slowly evolving, dewy-eyed sense of melody, Urpsrung is without question Weber's most experimental and evasive work to date.

Trumpets, drums, vocals, violins, flutes, saxophones and cellos make for a much fuller, richer and more authentic sound than ever before.

Walk Dance Talk Sing shows you can't have too much of a good thing.

Get Lost [is] McGuire's most accessible album to date.

Sleek, confident and totally captivating, New Epoch is bound to attract interest and even incite excitement in those who might have thought the 140 BPM form outmoded and uninteresting.

They'll be fully outted soon--with an album this good, the backstory can't help but see the light of day--but even without the anonymity, Tiger & Woods will be plenty spicy.

The result, for its few flaws and its exhilarations, at the very least, sounds fantastic, production-wise; Grace finds the band melding tooth-ground guitar assaults; '80s throwback candy pop; fluttery house templates; dusty, almost Stax-worthy soul getaways and sample-laced electro throbs into an album willing to sacrifice sonic exactitude for a mélange of sounds, tempos and genre exercises that still feels very much of a singular-albeit kaleidoscopic-piece.

Glow dumbs down Niemerski's music into mass market-ready chunks.

As nice and welcoming as Getting Closer is, it'll never challenge you.

For many, it was going to be hard for Tellier to surpass Sexuality's sensuous odyssey. Thankfully, My God Is Blue does at least equal it.

Regional Surrealism [is] somewhere you'll want to lose yourself again and again.

Most of these tracks feel like they would evaporate instantaneously if they tried to leave the house, let alone take their place in any public space. As a debut collection of electronic oddities, it works just fine, though.

Even though Brighter falls short, in this context it does illustrates that the indie WhoMadeWho infuse their dance with has more funk and attitude than most.

Too often, Letherette is synthetic and manufactured, but in those slower, stranger moments it feels like the real deal.

The record holds up alongside standout moments from Dear's discography, but adopts an unexpectedly rugged disposition.

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.

Though it's often lost in the overwrought emotions of Dva, her gift for sound remains even when she overshoots the mark.

Ada's lengthy absence has allowed her the freedom to switch creative modes without any seemingly abrupt transitions. Meine Zarten Pfoten is bright and soft and tender, a kind of warm-bath comfort that should be perfect for those downy hours before you put the day behind you.

The title track dates back to last year, and it makes a great case for SOPHIE as a Top 40 pop producer.... On the other three songs, it sounds like singer and producer are still learning how to work together.

James spends most of the EP in that exploratory mode, and though there's a certain pleasure in listening to an artist figure things out, a full 28 minutes feels like overkill. Regardless, it's comforting to know James isn't settling into a routine.

Gordian is a delightful listen, packed with plenty of rewarding oddities if you care to sit down and really take your time with it.

On "Drop Down," Lunice's bass stabs align nicely with Le1f's vocal stabs. With a few more tracks like these, the LP would have made for an even more dramatic return to the spotlight.

Honey lacks the coherence of her previous albums, but as a love letter to the rave it's eloquent and sincere.

While there’s a yearning for youth about the album, it also has calibre that’s to be celebrated. Matthews’ voice, his mastery of mood and storytelling shines through, lifting this to a satisfyingly high point of achievement.

Their electronic music brims with heartfelt emotions that anyone could understand.

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.

LISm is a sprawl, a circuitous meander, but one in which every second counts.

The endorphin-rush techno of "Forgive Me," meanwhile, is sure to ignite one of his main stage festival sets. That's the setting in which Boratto shows his energy and confidence as an artist. Too much of Pentagram, by contrast, feels tired or confused.

These songs still aim to elicit an emotion from you, and they're still not particularly subtle. The difference is you don't feel like it's being shoved down your throat.

Runddans is an intriguing and sometimes fun experiment, but it's not quite a meeting of great musical minds.

Listening to Imagin is like pulling on a old pair of trainers: comfortable, familiar and, ultimately, rather boring.

FM Sushi is straighter, painstaking in its own low-budget way and--bathed as it is in a potent fug of despairing melancholy--far more emotionally resonant.

Melding the jerkiness of dancehall with deconstructed house, it's raw to the point of bloodiness.

It lacks the depth, intrigue and smirking beauty of the group's best work—a product, presumably, of Blunt and Copeland's peculiar chemistry—but doesn't replace it with anything fresh. For all that, it's not bad.

Quite possibly represents Edgar's most full-blooded work yet.

If The Mainframe is a film, then it's a Michael Bay blockbuster: slick and engaging but totally adolescent in worldview, its plot tortuous, its characters flimsily drawn, all of it an excuse for a string of eye-popping action set-pieces.

Secret Life is undeniably gorgeous. But it's a mainstream, you-know-how-this-ends kind of gorgeous, like a Hollywood remake of some European arthouse film. ... It's difficult to be mad at Secret Life. But the bigger problem is that it's hard to feel anything at all.

Even at its biggest, it sounds disappointingly thin.

The duo's linear arrangements could keep a dance floor chuntering along, but they make for clunky pop songs.

For Years feels like the natural conclusion to the quest he quietly started back in 2010.

It's an unadventurous but pleasant effort from a talented artist who used to make everyone else look boring.

There's the occasional hint of another, more vivid album.... Elsewhere they often seem all too separate, like combatants squaring off in a strange, airless room.

It is a real gem.

Youth Code isn't a perfect album, but it is one hell of a first stab.

It hardly bears Moroder's personality at all.

In its studio form, though, II remains a lukewarm, ambivalent understatement.

In losing sight of the dance floor, Battle Lines does away with Bob Moses' greatest strength, and the quality that made them stand out from countless other pop and rock acts.

While Orbits is a tighter record, its joints are still too weak to hold it all up.

These tracks [with pop collaborations] amount to unremarkable radio fare and dilute the artistic voices of all involved. ... The instrumentals have more bite.