When Lantern hits its high points, it ends up somewhere in the stratosphere. When it falters, it's mostly because it's too ambitious, either thematically, as with the overblown love songs, or technically, as with the roller-coaster sequencing that halts the momentum over and over.

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.

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.

The brilliance in moments of these tracks doesn't add up to a fully engaging album experience, but Aguayo deserves plenty of credit for continuing to show the imagination he thought minimal lacked all those years ago.

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.

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.

Most of his LPs show his love of prog and fusion. In other words, they've been lengthy, ambitious full-lengths with an array of singles sprinkled throughout. Cerebral Hemispheres is exactly that. Whatever its flaws, it's a solid entry in a legendary discography.

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.

Where Ufabulum felt like a garish souvenir from the performance built around it, Damogen Furies is more substantial and self-contained.

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.

Without much more than endless stretches of sound to hang onto, The Four Worlds occasionally drifts into tedium. The record's pair of vocal cuts stand out as a result, regardless of how effective they are.

Ultimately, Tears In The Club could have been a nearly flawless six-track EP--though the filler doesn't detract from the more noteworthy tunes on here, it doesn't really contribute either.

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.

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.

[Blood Rain is] the track on Bodied that best reflects the influence of soundtrack work on Myson, music that feels powerful without being obvious or obtrusive. The rest of Bodied feels like a film score made for a blockbuster that isn't there. The LP's sculpted sound, dreamy sketches and haughty melodrama rarely feels like more than the sum of its often stunning parts.

Polymer's best parts show a keen balance of emotional and technical qualities. ... Still, Polymer gets soft roughly midway.

"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.

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

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.

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

The State Between Us does, at times, attain a depth of its own, particularly when it's dealing in the sadness of separation Brexit engenders in roughly half of the population. But at other points it just seems to be saying, "Ooh, aren't we quirky?!"

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.

Where the artist's past work used abstract sound as a conceptual approach to trans identity, the choice to embrace lyricism makes Death Becomes Her a more fun and digestible listen.

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.

An album that's alluring in passing, but might not have you doubling back for a closer inspection.

Tejada being Tejada, the machines aren't done away with entirely. Amid the orchestral strings and irregular drums you'll hear the rich melodic layers and electronic processing that have long been Tejada hallmarks. His stamp is all over this typically classy if unsurprising album.

Long's drum programming in general lacks finesse. It has neither the rhythmic spark to make bodies move, nor the sculpted precision for a mind-expanding armchair experience. Sometimes this isn't a problem.

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.