World Eater is Power's most eclectic record to date. Dumb Flesh, his second album as Blanck Mass, moved away from the wall of sound of his self-titled debut.

Stern's use of repetition is powerful and carefully considered, making space for deep thought and reflection. Pockets of silence strengthen this concentrative quality.

If the album doesn't always hit the same highs as the excellent Mondo Beat or Trance LPs, there's still plenty to love: the bending techno synth waves on "Modularity," the slowed-down Nitzer Ebb flashbacks on "Post Industrial," and the krautrock computer glitches on "Noise Floor."

Open Your Eyes has a confidently evolved sound.

What's completely clear about All The Right Noises is that it's a highly personal album. In his exploration of them, Flügel makes these non-spaces his own.

By most measures, Crush is an excellent record. But its aggression and obtuseness, for me at least, is relative—once the shock wears off, there remains a slight reserve, a sense that Shepherd's innermost rage has only fitfully overpowered competing aspects of his psyche.

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.

Stylistically, it's more of a grab-bag than ever before, occasionally tipping the scales from charming to bombastic.

If The Inheritors was the sound of the former trance artist undergoing a spiritual rebirth, The Animal Spirits is as close as he's come to transcendence.

An entire album of the stuff would likely be twee overkill, but Gonno's endearing quirks and lighthearted sensibilities are charming in small doses.

He's essentially building sonic environments, the kind a listener can enter and explore. That experience is less about the details than the journey, which Gengras carves out with the skill of a seasoned designer.

It shows him settling into a state of deep contentment, evoking the same warm and fuzzy feeling you get from throwing on a record that you know inside and out.

Voigt's mix of art music, techno and classical, of fairy tales and field recordings, feels singular and timeless 25 years on. It's not Voigt's most beautiful or immersive record as GAS, but it remains a forest we can all get lost in.

FabricLive.61 showcases a producer similarly disinterested in genre orthodoxy. But he's doing it in a different way. The mix might have its roots in dubstep's swampier side but is now intertwined with gnarled techno and thorny breaks.

It never fully sounds laid back, as if the producer is unwilling to let his sounds run as rampant or give into the funk quite like his Californian counterparts.

It could just be good timing, or that he remains the same ingeniously innovative songwriter, but Club Rez is yet another victory for the young producer.

[The album's] obfuscating mires of navel-gazing perhaps precludes it from attaining Ninja Tune classic status, but those of a darker disposition will likely be of the opinion this challenging opus collates Ortega's strongest work to date.

It's bold, maybe even avant-garde, but from beginning to end it's raucous, barnstorming, chair-dancing fun.

Visa finds Ripatti attuned to a very specific, focused energy, and the result is some of his best work.

It's an interesting diversion for Romans, and might just be the most admirable part of Valere Aude.

Their tenth LP, For That Beautiful Feeling, returns to their well-established formula once again, at times surging with renewed ambition and other times falling curiously flat.

Since the beginning, DJ-Kicks has been about finding unique takes on this craft. Kozalla's 50th instalment more than lives up to this tradition.

Wonderland shies away from the textural depths the duo made their name on. But what the album lacks in psychedelic richness it makes up for with wild, off-the-cuff energy, and it sounds like Demdike Stare had a lot of fun making it.

Patience is one of Kirby's most consistent and stylistically severe albums in recent memory, mostly solo piano with the occasional vocal thrown in.

A solid diversion from two artists who we know can do better.

Once it pulls you into its core, its dissonant sound becomes comforting, and then cathartic. In evoking confusion as to where man ends and machine begins, Borders offers a musical interpretation of a very modern dilemma.

No Home Of The Mind strikes a chord without uttering a word.

Staring into a murky void, Thundercat has actually made his clearest music yet.