As a whole, the music is warm and pleasant, even occasionally gorgeous, but it feels a bit bloodless.

As far as home-listening goes, Alpha is too inflexible to give a dynamic front-to-back experience. But that's not surprising: Alpha was made with DJs in mind. And on that level, the music has plenty to offer.

For Those Of You stands apart as a significant step up in Leeds' journey to carve out and master his own musical form.

Good pop is often pliable, its message broad or ambiguous enough for listeners to flex it to their taste. Political pop can be like this without compromising its message, but most of Hopelessness has no interest in pliability. It regards its audience as either fervent believers in Anohni's cause or a pop mass in need of blunt polemic.

The atmosphere is so consistent, the pacing so uniform, the sounds created with such a defined set of instrumental sources, that all the pieces blur into one.

So short and concentrated, the album feels like a style exercise rather than a major work, but it nonetheless finds Cutler refining his skills and presenting the best version of his 1992-via-2020 approach yet.

It's more about repetition than surprise, meditation than hyperactivity. Many tracks start slowly and quietly, and some hold entirely to that restraint.

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.

That final third of DJ-Kicks might not be its strongest section but it no less feels like the most emblematic of Riddick's timeless appeal--connecting funk's past, present and future with an unbreakable thread of authenticity and positivity.

Elasticity rewards repeat listens from start to finish.

Folding Time sounds so manicured and lovely that it's hard to find fault with its production value. If the album has a problem, it's that it makes a lateral move rather than a forward one.

Recorded in one take, fabric 87 captures the peak-time spirit of fabric's Room 2, and showcases exclusive edits from the DJ and remixes of currently boxfresh tracks like "Lolly Pop" by Reset Robot. So it's a shame that the mix runs out of energy before the end, pulling the knockout blow it should have had.

Most of The Triad lacks darkness or tension, which results in a lack of depth and contrast.

Where his best music was like reading pages from a diary, Rojus can feel like a passionate retelling of memories that were never his.

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

For a debut album from such a young artist, 99.9% is remarkably self-assured. It sets up Celestin as someone carving out his niche.

Oh No is an inventive and enjoyable pop record that only falls short of Lanza's own standards.

Yoyogi Park is at its best on the tracks where Kersten wanders out of his comfort zone.

Konnichiwa isn't perfect, but it mostly accomplishes the goals Skepta set for himself, and is certainly one of the best grime has seen so far.

The permanent ache in Blake's voice is one of his most arresting qualities, but it grows tiresome as The Colour In Anything wades through its 76 minutes.

Following shaky albums from both Yorke and Radiohead, A Moon Shaped Pool suggests that they were right to keep the faith.

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.

On the self-produced Will, there's an extraordinary confidence behind Barwick's voice and arrangements.

The Ship, his sixth Warp record in seven years, entwines various threads from these albums [Small Craft On A Milk Sea, Lux, and Highlife] into a heady amalgam that stands as his best work for the label to date.

This LP has the duo's best music; each track offers something to marvel at. But put them all together and it's like watching the world end 11 times in a row: what at first seems fearsome eventually turns mundane.

I AKA I moves from peak to peak, and you're never more than a couple of tracks away from open-mouthed awe.

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

With a relatively small number of building blocks, Acre has built an album that feels varied, showcases a range of emotion and, most importantly, feels whole.

The album is overproduced and polished to a fault, often vague and uninteresting. It's the defining characteristic of Become Alive. The individual performances are undeniably full of flavor and complexity, but put together they can overwhelm.

For all of its differences, Utility only sounds unnatural in the Kowton discography when it undermines the strengths of the music before it.

As the realised aspirations of Myson's inner-teen, Hollowed is startlingly articulate and mature.

Stott's latest marks a new stage on this journey into the pop unknown, but it feels like he's not quite there yet.

Petrol finds the artist coming into his own, interpreting his life experience into sublime electro-acoustic music.

These short tracks hint at the more compact and engaging album #N/A could've been. But on "#2," the collaborators show they can also pull off long-form.

On EARS, Smith emerges as a novel, naturalistic and, yes, pop-savvy voice wielding an instrument known for esoteric experimentalism.

Potential is largely a wonderful collection of uplifting and humbling electronic pop.

Trendy as Silver's interests may have become, On Vacation feels no less personal and awe-inspiring in its stillness.

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

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

Unrestrained emotion is ultimately III's defining attribute, and that richness can be too much to bear.

In Hecker's uncanny knack for blending noise and ineffable sound together, he makes for a turbulent sonic trip that ultimately feels redemptive.

Tthe album as a whole is a step forward for Blunt. Though the music isn't his most gripping, he's never achieved such a powerful synthesis of sound, concept and character.

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.

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.

Aa isn't a disappointment, but clocking in at 34 minutes with a handful of tracks that feel unfinished, it's not exactly a home run either.

Venetian Snares albums are usually tough and intense listens, but Traditional Synthesizer Music can be fuzzy to a fault. It lacks the internal turmoil that defines Funk's best music.

The sheer density of his music is its most interesting quality, but also a weakness. Like the panicked crowds filling the streets in your favourite disaster movie, Stringer's tracks run in a hundred directions at once and ultimately get nowhere.

After working together on and off for years, this trio obviously have a special connection, but it's only apparent in fits and spurts.

Whatever Loop The Loop's flaws, Jenkins has definitely found his C, and he's justifiably pleased about it.

This is all standard Matmos; nothing here upsets their musical applecart. But the washing machine conceit gives their sample trickery a dramatic edge. It sometimes feels like we're descending deep into the innards of the machine.

Brute's most interesting flourishes are all surface-level. Take them away and you're left with Al Qadiri reusing the same musical ideas.

On first pass, A Minor Thought might sound like another Smallville record with all the expected tropes; listen more carefully and you'll hear a world of subtle tweaks and improvements. It's a beautiful illustration of the label's sound, a warm and welcoming style of house where predictability is a strength instead of a weakness.

You can spot similarities and name-check influences throughout, but Principe Del Norte still stands as Hermansen's most distinctive and satisfying record to date.

If there's a new sense of release in Beacon's music, the same can't be said of their lyrics. A familiar atmosphere of heartbroken reflection and pent-up frustration prevails.

Those few powerful moments [on Boy] are the exception rather than the norm. Their rawness is an essential element that could have lent Skilled Mechanics the sort of organic, internalized anxiety that once defined Tricky.

For sure, Animal Collective still have plenty of whimsical creativity left in them, but on Painting With they mostly color inside the lines.

It may have taken him a long time to release a mix in this way, but the quality of DJ-Kicks makes it worth the wait. At 30 selections, the tracklist is remarkably long, but nothing feels rushed.

As a survey of Africa's influence on contemporary dance music, Basar is an inspiring document. As an album, it's every bit as good.

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

Casual and understated as ever, Greenspan and Didemus seemed to be making a point: Big Black Coat isn't the triumphant return of Junior Boys, it's just the next chapter in an ongoing story.

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

The twists and turns can be compelling, but they make The Catastrophist feel somewhat lopsided, with scattered ideas too disparate to congeal as a cohesive listen.

Third Law trades emotion for physical power and presence. Porter has figured out how to channel the aggression of his early material into the maturity and otherworldliness of his solo work, and it's as breathtaking as it is bruising.

Live manipulation gives In Situ its textures, as Halo hardly lets a few bars go by without tweaking rhythmic elements, introducing new sonics or briefly leaning on an effect. The movements are unpredictable but never distracting or overwhelming.

Smith never went away exactly, but Bleeds feels like as storming comeback.

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.

Shackled to the piano, the album's range can feel a bit limited. It's worth sticking it out, though, if only for the moments when Gold's grand vision finally comes together.

Considering the breadth of the collection, there are bound to be some missteps—the rhythmic drive of "Wide Open" and "W" feel particularly out of place, while some of the pair's piano work blurs together. Nonetheless, it's hard to complain about a release that puts these talented composers' collaborations all in one place.

Fascinating and vibrant, Texture Like Sun finds Deenmamode less concerned with his own life and times, focusing instead on the world around him.

Science Fiction Dancehall Classics is a treasure trove for newcomers as well as On-U completists (there's a generous number of previously unreleased tracks), and a fascinating piece of dance music genealogy.

Three bonus tracks included with the re-release are almost as good, though they stretch the album to a daunting 75 minutes. City Lake's main effect is to make you appreciate the charms of its successor all the more. Its main effect, but not its only one.

The mechanistic form and function can feel totally lifeless, but there's a layer of mourning beneath the gleaming metal.

Product is simply forward-thinking, flawlessly-produced electronic music that wants no more than to slap a grin on the dance floor.

Ultimately, Rustie's purism exposes the limitations of his style.

The forms are extraordinary and the surfaces dazzling, but it's unclear how to navigate through them. You're impressed but also confused, and you keep an eye out for the exit. Several tracks shine regardless.

Despite its shortcomings, Howl is a fine album for those interested in analog electronics and curious what can be done with them outside of a club environment.

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.

Art Angels wipes the fog from her lens and lays out her vision, clear and uncompromising.

Shepherd's flawless Eglo catalogue had the power to coax his followers off the dance floor with him, and Elaenia's sophisticated sense of musical accomplishment ought to keep them there.

Under The Same Sky might not be the most original or ambitious album you will hear this year, but it's arresting, it moves quickly and it never looks back.

Much like switching on a 24-hour news channel, No No is engrossing for the first ten minutes or so. Then the parade of lurid images continues, and sure enough, they give you a headache.

What Burton nails on Communion is how to fold in sounds from all over--electronic music and the real world--to make powerful and terrifying music in 2015. If the club is a shelter from an oppressive and dangerous society, then Communion is what waits outside.

Baio's tunes are short and snappy, and at around 40 minutes long, The Names takes less time than reading most chapters of a DeLillo book.

Vibert's turned in a brazenly colourful, glitter-dusted and streamer-throwing affair, so have fun with it.

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.

Making good on Quattlebaum's professed interest in radical queer politics, the music on C-ORE feels suitably radical, queer and non-conformist.

St Germain conjures up rich and atmospheric landscapes equal to Navarre's earlier work. They're different from where we last left him, but they still seem to find him right at home.

At almost 70 minutes, Where All Is Fled may take a few unnecessary detours across its 14 tracks, but it's ultimately Hauschildt's most cohesive work. Here, he's matched his well-established talents as a composer of cosmic ambient with a new depth of artistic direction.

Safe is an incongruous blend of calm and anxiety. It's also full of raw human emotion.

Without any contrast, his vibraphone seems to grin vacantly, as if pumped full of sedatives.

This is a record of great technical skill and imagination, and one that's also nonetheless soulful and sincere.

The music on µ20 is equally a view into that mind and its peculiar tastes. Though he rarely gets the level of recognition and respect as his good friend and one-time collaborator Aphex Twin, Paradinas is a visionary, an incredibly talented producer and a savvy curator.

They've become powerful songwriters since they focused on the craft in 2010, and Foam Island shows it off more than anything else.

Days Gone By focuses on the band's smoky, bedroom-ready style. It's only half the story, but it's still a pretty good one.

Even if Have You In My Wilderness is Holter's most accessible record to date, it's riddled with enough puzzles, lyrical twists and delicate refinement to remain intriguing listen after listen.

Caracal has the effect of a magician performing a trick twice in a row, rendering once clandestine, miraculous movements suddenly obvious, over-rehearsed and unnatural.

The Curved Line is a pretty harmless, quirky listen, and enjoyable enough if you've got a bit of a sweet tooth.

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