The first few listens don’t disclose the full complexities of Simon’s work – it remains semi-horizontal and distant, like a tired shrug. But after several repeats, the circular motifs begin to, if not get under the skin, then at least claw at it a bit. [Mar 2018, p.44]

The execution is elegantly minimal and yet alive with textures and warmth, despite the album's melancholy and often morbid content. [Mar 2018, p.55]

A confidently created body of work that shows her strength in piecing together abstract compositions. [Oct 2017, p.65]

The results isn't always compelling; at times the trio lean on cliched sounds--ominous synth tones, for example, or whirring stock effects--that have also crept into previous release. But more often, the pieces on Rainbow Mirror avoid banality through forced patience. The extended track lengths greatly benefit Fernow’s chosen range of sounds and moods. Given the room to stretch and develop, he and his colleagues maintain a level of subtlety throughout. [Dec 2017, p.56]

A cohesive album in the traditional sense, Hesaitix is an epic world-building exercise littered with simulations of natural beauty. [Dec 2017, p.55]

Distorted and wobbly piano samples summon up the spirit of 1990s rave, but in a quietly euphoric way. Harmonies occasionally jut out, seemingly more a product of chance than by design. [Oct 2017, p.49]

Impossibly both epic and restrained; somebody call CERN. [Nov 2017, p.67]

Far from consistent, its best tracks are those unconcerned with hooks or choruses, maintaining a stealthy pace but humming with all the frantic, pristine detail of the best Future tracks. [Dec 2017, p.64]

Throughout there's a strangely prosaic lyricism at work making the mundane threatening. [Dec 2018, p.48]

Moving between diverse musical contexts, with self-assurance yet also unflagging inquisitiveness, open to the unexpected even within the familiar contours of Ruby My Dear or ’Round Midnight, Smith continues to renew and transcend his legacy. [Dec 2017, p.58]

He might be a slightly better rapper [than his father Will], he’s certainly a more adventurous artist and the fact that he’s a product of his generation shouldn’t detract from that. [Jan 2018, p.78]

All the more powerful for jumping from comic invocations of Ric Flair and Friday The 13th to casual and viciously flippant references to Xanax and other addictions. [Jan 2018, p.78]

Female defiance and desire in a glossy, dystopic package. [Jan 2018, p.77]

Post Self is an extreme, and extremely good, record, as moving as it is troubling. [Jan 2018, p.69]

he way the music suddenly jerks into life from stasis to movement is fine and the whole thing is beautiful and embracing and makes you think peaceful thoughts. By mid-afternoon though things get really ragged. ... Whatever made those earlier tracks sound so great is missing now. [Jan 2018, p.62]

This ludicrously exhaustive deluxe edition includes hour after hour of live takes, demos and interviews. Fascinating, but none of it overshadows the original album. [Dec 2017, p.70]

Fans will find things to love here, I’m sure. But Savage Young Dü won’t be making any converts. [Dec 2017, p.69]

Diggin’ In The Carts is the most inventive video game music compilation in living memory. [Dec 2017, p.67]

The Saga Continues is a somewhat unwieldy collection of Wu offcuts with seemingly no concept. Less an album than a collection of outtakes. [Dec 2017, p.64]

Amalie Bruun (aka Myrkur) returns in feral form with a fresh set of frozen warnings and blackened ballads. ... On “Funeral” she teams up with Chelsea Wolfe for a duet that never quite gels and feels frustratingly half formed, while “Kætteren” confusingly slips a sliver of traditional Scandinavian folk music into the mix. Even worse is end track “Børnehjem” where demonic child whispering over Myrkur’s medieval monkish chant evokes Blair Witch memories and ultimately drags the whole album down. [Dec 2017, p.60]

Moore responds by occasionally holding on to his riffs, exploring their textures before returning to chop and grind mode. Such moments help break up the pair’s machine-like momentum, which in places makes tracks blur together; some actually sound like reprises of each other, somewhere between natural motifs and a well of ideas running dry. But the thrill of Moore and Hayward’s best right hooks and body blows justify the amount of punches thrown. [Dec 2017, p.55]

The update here is that the music is from Glasgow, a city apart from the more cosmopolitan hubs of the global dance network, and one that’s increasingly recognised for its ‘scenius’. It’s perhaps these dislocated elements that make Golden Teacher a solid though ultimately unspectacular British curiosity. [Dec 2017, p.52]

The quartet sound vital here, powered by a passion that is infectious and thrilling. [Dec 2017, p.52]

There are no radical leaps forward from the previous album, but that matters not a jot. The soil in this territory is rich, the flora is fragrant, and the echoes of the past harmonise together like happy memories. [Dec 2017, p.51]

What works so well here is that all the elements are pursued with equal intensity. It is not that noise cedes to the electronics, or the guitars make way for the voice, or turns are taken. On the contrary, everything is plugged in, blindly ongoing without lessening. [Dec 2017, p.50]

The Icelandic icon moves ever closer to the Platonic ideal of what it means to be Bjork. [Dec 2017, p.50]

The record inevitably calls to mind such seminal sci-fi soundtracks as The Terminator and Blade Runner. ...The album is nonetheless imbued with an intrinsic purposiveness which emphatically renders its sounds meaningful in excess or independent of conceptual determination. [Dec 2017, p.49]

When she laughs that she’s never read Robert Greene’s self-help manual 48 Laws, not only is she declaring her album a bullshit-free zone, she’s redefining priorities for 21st century grown-up rap. On this form you have to hope her approach prevails. [Nov 2017, p.70]