Beautiful Rewind is an extended tribute to pirate radio, connecting the dots between jungle, garage and minimalist house music.

Instead of attempting to reinvent the wheel, he refines and extends his legacy, preserving the familiar while hearkening back to the uncanny moods that shroud his best ambient-leaning works.

It's not long before Punk Authority ceases to feel abrasive and is instead perceived as soothing, continuous streams of sound.

A diverse, compelling tapestry of 2-step, house and broken beats.

This is a short album that toggles around pretty familiar sounds without doing anything new with them. But in this final salvo, Walls have proven that they are a force.

Whatever James puts his name to could and should never be expected to make conventional sense, so Orphaned Deejay Selek only falters when denying his own slippery logic.

The result is an album split between brilliant and head-scratching moments, and it's all a lot take in at once. Anxiety dressed up Ashin's neuroses in glossy textures, while Age Of Transparency lets them writhe all over the floor. Like his live show, it's thrilling, confusing and uncomfortable in equal measure.

2013's Half Of Where You Live was largely built around recordings made while traveling the world, including Japan, so what's unique about Good Luck is how it sounds less like a specific place than a flurry of memories made there.

As DNA Feelings dissolves to a close, a quiet kind of power lingers on.

This celebratory nihilism defines an album that's sometimes dark and moody, sometimes manic and fun. There are familiar moments of quirky guitar pop ("Delete Forever," "You'll Miss Me When I'm Not Around"). More exciting is when Grimes goes big on reverb and club-sized beats.

Their music is timeless but pulls on nostalgic heartstrings—it can be goth, earnest, sad, happy, distant and close all at once. It scratches a very specific itch for atmospheric pop and rock music that most of their imitators still can't touch.

At its best, the LP touches on the dizzying maximalism that made past records so thrilling. But at other times it treads the same ground as the healing frequency meditation videos that proliferate on YouTube.

Pale Bloom, like all of Davachi's work, has a transportive, mystical quality. It could be so easy for the composer to recede into the endless abyss of staid ambient music, but this album proves that she has little interest in doing so. The more she continues to challenge herself and her audience, the more rewarding her work becomes.

The Last Panthers goes further, illustrating a picture of its own.

Bicep have never been afraid to go for broke, and their debut album is all the better for it.

A beautiful collection of tunes as striking as they are subtle.

None of these ventures feel forced, instead they flourish under the weight of some heavy emotional themes. After this versatile and unexpectedly wholesome depiction of a broken heart, Mykki Blanco has earned some deserved beauty sleep.

Sometimes Walker can have his cake and eat it, too, and on the best moments of Knockin' Boots, he does.

It is poignant and ragged with suffering, but it doesn't dwell there. It is also bright, optimistic and euphoric.

Eyeroll is Ziúr's most punk record to date, planting her proudly on the fringes where she's happiest.

The result could have been an album so mournful as to lose itself in self-serious introspection, but Dedication's brief track lengths mean the album is breezy in a manner unbefitting of its ostensibly grave subject matter.

Where McRyhew's first full-length approached footwork with playful individualism, this record favours freeform acid and techno structures.

The LP's spirally nature is actually its biggest problem, as the duo choose to coil back into themselves again and again, creating a merely good album that’s on the cusp of greatness.

Thanks to its quieter passages, Alternate/Endings breathes in and out gradually, never lingering or sprinting for too long.

This sounds like a coherent album rather than a string of collaborations, with his creamy tones-and occasionally clichéd lyrics-providing a common identity throughout.

As Rausch shows, Voigt is still finding inspiration in his childhood memories and those old forests, subtly changing the way we see and hear them each time.

Pink sits in between: not sonically and melodically rich enough to be digested with the bedroom fervour of, say, Rounds, but somehow not fully metamorphosed into whatever new form Hebden is pushing towards. Nobody's doubting the man's incredible skill as a producer, and the delicacy, intelligence and maturity of his ideas. But here, alchemy isn't quite achieved.

Phoenixxx is pure violence, with seemingly incidental moments of calm.

Despite falling somewhere on the noise music spectrum, there is an odd sense of calm throughout Lack. Daijing presents a dream, the plot of which, after waking, you can't quite piece together. Its walls of sound become etched onto your mind's surface. It's a vision that lingers in your psyche.

Though not without its charms, the floundering moments of Crash suggests that Charli XCX may be most comfortable making subversive music.

In Dust seems solely an accompaniment for alps and plains. Some space for the bedroom and lounge would have been nice too.

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.

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.

Some of these tracks are simply mind-melting.

"Closed Circuit" stands out on Sunergy for its restraint and musicality. Smith and Ciani riff around a melodic figure with a percussive edge, filling the space around the light-footed pattern with delicate, free-flowing harmonic color.

While it's not without flaws, Volume 2 isn't the sound of a label fizzling out. It's possible that they're just getting started.

The result is some of the most intimate and grandiose music he's ever produced.

Xen remains as singular--and often as brilliant--as the rest of the Arca catalogue.

A much more concise statement than last year's Welcome To The Chi, Double Cup is an exciting portrait of a maverick artist with complete creative freedom, and the skills to hold it all together.

It's equal parts dark and light, these two elements intermingling to create an ambivalent set of emotions, from gnawing fear to brief tranquillity, as unnerving and uncertain as you imagine life in a war zone might be.

Captain Of None places Schott's voice front-and-centre and folds in her long-burning love for dub and reggae rhythms, making for her most approachable and otherworldly record yet.

Sirens is his best record because it's both his most straightforward and most experimental, his densest and lightest.

Conatus is Zola Jesus' most gratifying offering so far.

Even if Graef and Astro don't seem to be headed anywhere in particular, it's still fun to hitch a hot-boxed ride with them.

The producer's peacenik ambitions are never far away, though, and the more naked they become, the more his music loses its depth and subtlety.

Naturally, the good tracks are sublime... [yet] familiar overreaching, archness even, creeps in elsewhere.

"DB Rip" feels like a missed opportunity to bring techno into play, while the title track overdoes its gothic pomp. The rest are slight but elegant mood pieces. Dal Forno is good at these, but it's her pop songs that do more than just tick the BEB boxes.

Owens is an exciting new artist. Her voice is lovely. Her songwriting is accessible. Her arrangements feel smooth, and she moves with ease between styles. The only drawback to Kelly Lee Owens is an occasional tweeness that can come with such sweet, weightless music.

[A] formidable, baffling, often delightful behemoth of an album.

On Filo Loves The Acid, Dozzy has held back his more radical approach, as well as his typically subtle use of the 303, to deliver an exemplary acid toolkit.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions, just slightly overcorrects with its mainstream-seeking direction, opting for more James Blake-esque electronic pop and reeling in the eccentricities.

With slightly more judicious editing, Let's Turn It Into Sound could have been a grand crossover statement, combining admittedly trendy synth experiments with freak-folk charisma. But that's not what Smith is going for here. Instead, the LP feels like listening to someone try out a new talent, learning as they go along, substituting practiced polish with a hunger for new ideas and self-expression.

Under The Sun isn't the major departure that it seems on the surface, but rather a pleasant detour through mythical, imagined landscapes.

The guest vocalists round out the album's satisfying balance of antiquated and futuristic.

A well-considered and promising debut album, one that knows just when to stop and breathe before breaking another sweat.

Synthetic birdsong, rustling keys and a contemplative melody suggest someone pondering the world outside. The album, in turn, offers a glimpse into Kate NV's rich imagination.

GOD's interest in questionable styles and its elaborate backstory seem designed to keep things interesting after the giant step forward that was R Plus Seven.

Sure, the LP has its eccentric moments, and it takes a long time to really get to know. But, as The Redeemer hinted and Black Metal proves, beneath all the YouTube sampling, bizarre press and one-off Russian blog releases, Blunt is a talented singer-songwriter with a keen ear for odd sounds.

It's this combination of shadowy unknowability and full-hearted melody that makes Pull My Hair Back such an intriguing listen, and certainly one of the year's best debuts.

Chardiet's presence on the album is so commanding, however, that you can almost feel her reaching out to you from beyond the recording. It'll shake you up, no matter what.

With vulnerability comes strength, and each Octo Octa record further builds a catalogue that serves as a rich, therapeutic memoir.

Sonically, Take Off Mode is not as ambitious as Da Trak Genious. ... But among these standouts, many of the other tracks lack the chaotic charisma key to the DJ Nate sound. His apparent abandonment of footwork in recent years could be at the heart of the LP's uneven quality. But changing one's style doesn't mean losing the soul of the sound.

Ghostly and grim, with the radiance of Stott's synths allowed only to penetrate the gloom in periodic bursts. It's telling that Stott somehow makes this aesthetic seem so compelling, a type of dark energy that makes you want to hit a punch bag or chair dance rather than wade in self-reflection.

Its best moments draw you to the formative dance floors of Space's past, the parties where he watched dancers react to the thrilling amalgam of styles that would become footwork, and where he danced himself, absorbing the lessons that would feed into a genre based on movement.

COW is the sound of The Orb stripped down its essence, revealing the splendor that's always been there.

Tenderness is exciting because of how simple and distilled it is, and how memorable its songs are even after just one or two listens.

ey clearly understand the value of the direct appeal, but on Coracle, the duo has rounded out the pre-manufactured pleasantries of their debut into headier, more substantive approaches to IDM, Chicago house, and nu-kosmische.

For a project of its size and vision, Vol. 1 is remarkably coherent. It's a testament to the label's endurance and vitality that they assembled so many top-notch exclusive tracks from friends both old and new.

All of the extra effort has paid off: fabric 90 is a killer dance mix first, a technical exercise second.

On K.O their ideas are rendered in higher fidelity, and while not every track on here leaves a lasting impression, the album as a whole certainly does.

Shades feels like a group effort. Khan's deadpan but catchy vocals are a huge part of the appeal, and the whole band sounds locked in, especially Calderwood and his wild soloing. ... It's the kind of quietly brilliant record that makes you fall in love with a band all over again, sharpening their approach—and songwriting—without losing the shambolic charm that made them so loveable in the first place.

It's certainly still bleak as ever, but there's more hope than before.

As a soundtrack for a wide variety of scenes, Distractions enhances Chen's reputation as one of UK club music's most adaptable artists.

For all the memories Stranger Things and its soundtrack evoke, they've also given us something new worth remembering.

As usual, Karma & Desire is a sprawling, unpredictable maze of an album, but Actress is no longer a solitary figure navigating rain-streaked streets alone. He's invited others along to zigzag with him.

Hardcourage is not necessarily his most exciting music--in fact it gets a little sleepy after a while. But once you're drifting away to the dreamy "Bells," as it saunters half-lidded to a close, you might wonder if that's actually the point.

Less is more has never been a part of Kaytranada's creative ethos, and while there are many ear-catching tidbits on Timeless, the LP also has its fair share of moments that get lost in the shuffle. .... But even with these misses, the album never fully slides into outright dullness—there's always a big idea or complex breakdown right around the corner.

If you're a Sandwell District fan, fabric 69 isn't going to blow your head off. You've heard these guys mix these kind of tunes together before. But you've never heard them do a mix as careful or considered as this one.

One of the most adventurous in recent memory.

Fleshed out with flecks of African-style guitar and tumbling bass...there's still the trademarked bedrock: that motor-fueled, machine-grind churn.

Body Pill is thoroughly understated throughout. It's an odd little album that only shows us part of the Anthony Naples puzzle, which is probably appropriate for an artist whose work seems to come in small and unusual bursts of inspiration.

Its narratives bump up against moments of real beauty, casting a robotic detachment over even its warmest moments. But Rahbek does an admirable job of presenting visions that are hard to shake.

With ideas that Froese wisely and generously left behind in this earthly realm, Froese has given us another Tangerine Dream near-masterpiece, created by the loyal pupils who grew up in his significant shadow.

While a clearing of the cobwebs is liberating for the artist, the resulting record is a tough sell for its audience, even one as dedicated as Vladislav Delay's. Rakka could be a step towards something great. But too often, getting through it is like walking with a stone in your shoe.

Three short instrumentals fail to muster the same energy. Interesting sounds abound, but they don't always connect, sometimes feeling less like music than collections of sound effects. At their best, though, Wolf Eyes evoke soundtracks to a lost drama whose characters are always in peril, be it from physical violence or internal torment.

A collection of big, bouncy and immaculately produced club tunes, it brings together some fine productions. But it's also a tough record to love.

Defined by repetition and mesmerizing as ever, The Follower isn't a huge stretch for Willner. Its best moments are in the second half, when the music revels in ethereality.

His latest LP, Prins Thomas 5, is a less extravagant take on space disco. ... The LP's calmest moments are its standouts.

At times this cute-and-cuddly record lacks a bit of dirt under its fingernails. But when the stars align, Lee hits on a pristine emotional pitch so honest and open it's impossible to resist.

Hunt's debut isn't just a representation of her compelling Emotional Junglist sound, but a firm push against the boundaries of modern, nostalgic jungle, underlining how much even the toughest dance music can benefit from a little vulnerability.

Swinscoe has a knack for both producing lush orchestral movements and picking worthy collaborators. On To Believe, they are unfortunately not more than the sum of their parts.

Surely Saginaw's most confident work yet, No Better Time Than Now shows a young artist maturing with the grace of a seasoned musician.

Gou's DJ-Kicks, though filled with some stretches of sleek club music, struggles to find an overall thread to hold it together. The personal angle is not enough. Each of these tunes may hold a special significance in Gou's life. But to the listener, they don't quite reveal the story.

At a little under 40 minutes, Screen Memories is a concise LP with few faults. Its sequencing brings out the variety on offer.

There's a weightiness to Polar's songwriting that both complements and contrasts the crystalline production touches.

Anyone who's seen her DJ could tell you about the confrontational aggression she hasn't yet captured on an official album. KicK iii tries, pushing the choppy, freeform and unrelenting part of Arca to the fore and pulverizing the listener over its brief, 36-minute runtime.

Nozinja Lodge is joyous, colourful dance music from one of the electronic scene's most eccentric and promising personalities.

With its intrepid nonconformity, masterfully undercooked programming and swagger, it's hard not to view Transsektoral as anything other than a resounding success.