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.