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.

On an initial spin, the record's cold sheen is its most appealing quality. But what makes it so replayable is the layers that emerge once it thaws.

Do you love sick beat drops? Then you'll probably love Skrillex's new album. .... The diversity here is astonishing, if at times schizophrenic.

aya has created one of those rare sequels that manages to both outstrip and enhance the ideas behind her first album. Following up an incredible debut with something more ambitious and immediate is hard. Most sequels buckle under the weight of expectation. On hexed!, aya doesn't so much rise to it as tear right through it.

A masterclass in brooding, uncompromising techno.

While Shygirl clearly has a reverence for hip-hop's past, she never turns that admiration into staid nostalgia. Over early grime-type beats, we hear what might be otherwise well-worn clichés—sirens, flutes, drip drops and sped-up vocals—but under Shygirl's command, she manages to give them an international twist.

This is all delectable, sure, but what's memorable is how Davidson—who has the dexterity to crack a joke uniting Friedrich Engles and LNR on 2018's "Work It"—maintains her dark sense of humour.

The inclusion of dynamic percussion, as well as Darkside's openness, beckons music that is more kinetic, haphazard and melodic than anything the group has made before. .... Although it's hard not to miss the eerie glitchiness and endless meandering that made Psychic so explorable and viscerally unsettling, Nothing can be unnerving in its own way.

Behind swirling clouds of synth and reverb, her perspective is clear as day.

In anchoring her songwriting in the canon of '90s dance music, twigs shines with a quality we haven't really seen before. Eusexua is remarkably slippery, allowing songs to go anywhere and do anything, but propelled by the prowess of a songwriter in peak form.

While Active Agents And House Boys slows the aerodynamic rush of the duo's live sets, it reveals a new dimension to their work: something you could almost call songwriting.

When she steps away from the overproduced big drops and focuses on body groove, Kelly's world is worth stepping into.

Machine is as visceral as anything he's ever put out, but the album's use of negative space—a cornerstone of what, in that Electronic Beats interview, he identified as dub's "alien unknown quality"—creates a sense of heightened focus you don't get from his vocal albums. These tracks are certainly "floor weapons," as Martin has billed them in liner notes. But they'll work just as well for those looking to quietly meditate on bassweight at home.

Modern pop remix albums have had a lazy streak—tacked-on features, small-minded production and recycled vocals. But Charli comes to the club with new verses, exciting collaborators and a fresh eye for her past work.

Throughout the album's darkest passages we're struck by a sense of possibility: that everything Richard has endured, fought for and overcome has merely allowed space for beautiful new beginnings.

Honey also lack the narrative depth that invited us in so close on Suddenly. If you look beyond the sweet, sticky surface, you'll likely be left craving more substance—until you're distracted by melodies that spin you into infatuation once again. For newer Caribou or Daphni fans who aren't as concerned about the polarising split between Snaith's two projects, Honey still services that dance floor giddiness—with a subtle drip of bittersweetness.

While some of its tracks were closer to completion than others when she died, the album overall still sounds unfinished.

He can't find a way back into the very culture that created him. This tragedy, and its lack of resolution, defines the saccharine and overdone sound of In Waves, whose missing of the mark is evident from its earliest moments.

It's an album of unapologetic bangers, boasting some of the most enjoyable music Shepherd's ever released. But it also sacrifices some of what makes his best work so singular.

It's a career-defining work that lives, shapeshifts, and, crucially, grieves.

The tracks that feel like direct tributes to older, better tunes tend to fare better than the majority of the album, which is hugely sentimental but never sufficiently sharpens its edges to counteract all that mush.

Of course, this repetition is the point of a record titled Endlessness, yet it feels like a central motif seemingly existing for its own sake.

The flatness of their construction, despite refreshingly warm undertones, means the songs easily collapse beneath the weight of Smith's carefully constructed persona, losing the plot on his apparent quest to let loose. Where they might blossom, the album's new cuts mostly bore holes into themselves.

Everything Squared is both a closed loop back to the fundamentals of the band's sound and a new tributary opening up, once again confusing any attempts to accurately place Seefeel anywhere but in their own time and space.

The result is an ingeniously crafted album that, under the right conditions, heightens the senses and inspires heartfelt reflection.

This relationship between Anderson and her subject is what elevates Amelia from mere biography into an enormously moving, poignant creative triumph.

Quantum Baby still delivers on the kind of smoky, sexy numbers that we'd expect from her.

A mind-expanding debut compilation. More than just a primer, A Dancefloor in Ndola is a captivating exercise in crate-diggery. .... Kampire is doing more than putting together a compilation—she is helping form African pop history.

Cellophane Memories ranks among Lynch's best: slippery, bewitching and almost overwhelmingly Lynchian.

Rema remains steadfast on his path to brilliance. HEIS is a capstone of an artist who's left an indelible mark on Afrobeats, but also Rema's realisation of his own singularity—not just in the great Benin Kingdom before him but the world.

Their album together is a beautiful take on doom and gloom, but be warned: there's no promise of a happy ending.

A work with a fighting spirit so potent that tipping the world over begins to feel like a genuine possibility.

On You Said You'd Hold My Hand Through The Fire, they lay bare their heartbreak through squalls of sound, managing softness even in the album's more hardened sonic environments.

Bridging that pop-underground divide has always been what makes Gou an interesting artist, but on I Hear You, she can't seem to veer from the middle of the road.

Actress is still working at something like the peak of his powers, and there's never a wrong step on Statik—never an idea that falls flat, never a moment where Cunningham feels like he's compromising his sound rather than simply choosing to work in a smoother style on his latest whim.

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.

"I think about it all the time" is among the most surprising moments on the record, as Aitchison sings about the possibilities and paranoias of motherhood so openly and casually like she quickly scribbled on the back of a napkin—that it comes between heaving dance floor tracks only underlines how Aitchison is harnessing her chaotic energy to the fullest, but also how real it is. .... BRAT finds the sweet spot most leftfield pop stars only dream of: keep it experimental and referential, but enjoy the party while it lasts.

This is a dense, longform piece of near future sci-fi that clothes abstract storytelling in visceral, goosebump-inducing club music.

Lives Outgrown is a quiet folk album, but there are elements of the carnivalesque and the sublime.

Both introspective and marking the importance of community and friendship, I AM JORDAN is energising music that can only instill joy and catharsis.

There's an intimacy here that compliments Broadcast's already close, cosy sound. Even the shorter songs bear fruit. .... It's hard not to imagine what these songs could have been: would Broadcast have kept them as-is and dove more into psychedelic folk, or would they have embellished more, and added more synths and electronics? Either way, it's a fascinating glimmer of what they might have done next.

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

Affection is everything one would want from a pop album—the way it shimmies along with catchy beats, whistle-along melodies and hooks that easily live rent-free in the long-term memory banks. The Jenkins touch here is an unmistakable charm that could very well nudge Affection into "cult album" territory.

Hyperdrama is more impactful than Woman, but not quite as ostentatiously in-your-face as Audio, Video, Disco. The duo sound better for it.

It was a chance encounter with Stanford's Center for Computer Research in Music and Acoustics that helped Jain discover her knack for producing this kind of music. That kind of serendipitous experience illustrates what she's instilling here—following the seeds of your interest, however small, to blossom the singularity of your voice. For Arushi Jain, spring has sprung.

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.

She's become somewhat of an experimental music poster child by democratizing styles like field recordings and sound collages, which may seem daunting to new listeners. sentiment leans heavily into this, finding a middle ground between often structureless musique concrète and DIY pop tunes.

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.

The results are unmistakably Mount Kimbie, showcasing their love for pop, R&B, electronica and Krautrock, while also forging a new identity for themselves within indie rock.

It's her strongest project to date, a thrilling fusion of classical and electronic music delivered in astounding clarity.

The history of misogyny that followed Journey In Satchidananda complicates the serenity and innovation within it.

The results are astoundingly beautiful, like a field recording taken from some uncharted corner of the earth. Elsewhere, the climax at the end of the ominous "Talking To The Whisper" beggars belief, it's a traffic jam of cascading keys, sporadic drumming, serpentine brass and more, an explosion of chaotic sound to conclude one of her best songs ever.

It's a record that balances the hardcore continuum with emotion as she turns out club tunes touched by vulnerability.

Tyla's music hovers in a zone that occupies amapiano, Afrobeats, and R&B all at once. That she's able to occupy all these spaces in a way that feels familiar is a testament to her poise and ingenuity.

The way he calls back to nearly all of his past projects, one could make the mistake that Hebden's best years are behind him. That would be missing the point, though. Regardless of all the attention he's received from his massive performances, he's still looking for new ways to be Four Tet.

As excerpts of poetry sound like heart-stricken dialogue and foggy soundscapes take the shape of a score, it often steps out of the confines of music and begins to approach theatre.

The album bops and bangs as he explores throbbing Detroit techno and bouncy Kraftwerkian synth pop, overlaying those genres with recordings of his time in Hong Kong to create a deeply spiritual album that fuses traditions, lineages and memories.

Instead of building on the momentum of her songwriting career, Still pulls her back into her comfort zone, with promising hints of something new waiting in the spaces between.

Adult Contemporary might not break any new ground or present any radical ideas, but as the familiar saying goes, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

The real freaks can nerd out on the harmonic theory that will wash right over most ears on this divinely sequenced record. You don't need to be educated to enjoy Malone's music: it's emotive, world-building and all-encompassing. The beauty lies within that.

Wise's third album is striking not only because of his unparalleled voice or his candid verse, parts of his artistry that already caught our attention on the last two albums, but because of the way these elements come together in such an assured way, in a space that demands swagger bravado from its virtuosos delivered with a welcome vulnerability.

King Perry (released on Tricky's label—he also co-produces four tracks) simply falls flat, lost in technological tricks and devoid of Perry's classic, quizzical warmth.

Vibrant, dynamic displays that veer towards transcendence. Rife with the yearning for more prevalent love, Lovegaze is a bewitching offering of psychedelia and astral folk that goes beyond the mind, and peers into the soul of a distinct talent as she exalts beauty in its rawest forms.

This album can work when it's in service of something other than itself. Listened to in smaller stretches, it becomes a bit easier to digest, and opens up a bit.

While Songs Of Silence succeeds as a rich and intriguing drone album then, it won't satisfy those hoping to learn more about one of British pop's great enigmas.

It keeps intact what makes her one of the most exciting UK pop acts of the 2020s, gesturing towards the mainstream while still keeping one foot in her musical hometown. It's the kind of record a promising artist puts out before they release something truly next-level.

Not so serious, just damn fun. Davis is taking big swings, purposely stomping through giant puddles like a kid again, eager to see how stain patterns form. So even when he misses, he still hits.

Part of the reason why LXXXVIII is so enjoyable is all these callbacks—it's catnip to a diehard Actress fan. There's a few new wrinkles on there, sure—the jazzy chord changes, the piano, the almost formless ambient sections—but mostly it's what he does best.

Gamble successfully deploys his robotic collaborators as tools in his sonic worldbuilding rather than as ends in themselves.

It's a boisterous, life-affirming record that successfully blends essential elements of dancefloor house music with some of the more convivial markers of Peruvian and Latin American music and culture at large.

Across Goodbye, Hotel Arkada, she continues to craft poignant work that tints the atmosphere, transporting the listener to the remembrances and moments of imagination that float freely within the mind's eye.