There is a natural grace to these compositions that's difficult to deny.

It's conflicted, ambivalent, complex.

What makes Eternal Turn of the Wheel so captivating is not so much the band's furious blend of rural sampling combined with their consistent prowess as black metal musicians, but the enchanting manor in which they craft the tracks.

Cancer 4 Cure is as hard and vital as anything El-P has ever released, and that's no light praise.

On his masterful third album, Actress perfects a thrilling sonic aletheia that simultaneously reveals and conceals, opens and closes, remembers and experiences anew, giving some insight into the truth of post-rave electronic music as it has developed over the past 20 years, into both frame and artwork, stage and actress.

Where once this cut deep, extended, it discloses itself merely as pleasant and pleasantly familiar.

The album as a whole falls short of offering us anything new or of exceeding quality in relation to either Porras' other projects or the work of similarly-minded artists. Still, Black Mesa is an unmistakably effective, quality genre piece by an artist highly invested in the form.

It's the clingiest and most needy record I've heard in a while.

Krzysztof Penderecki and Jonny Greenwood are cultivating a dialogue of past, present, and future ideas, presented as potential energy for creation--and also for acquiring new ways of understanding music.

Love is the Plan, The Plan is Death, perhaps Blackshaw's most lucid and rawest effort to date, explores the effects and possibilities of repetition, plunging deep into a humility that suggests the movements of this process of refinement.

Gallery is an effort by a young artist who stylistically manages to be consistent yet not sophisticated, involving yet not affecting.

There's nothing here that so sheerly encompasses the tragi-gorgeous indie nexus as earlier tunes "Already Over" or "Spectator and Pupil," though "When To Let Go" comes close.

[Unpatterns] contains some of the most mature, atmospheric music we've heard from sirs Ford and Shaw - and, periodically, some monstrous grooves pierce through the ambient haze.

It is familiar, but it is Peter's familiarity.

The lyrics here are trite and the melodies saccharine.

Transistor Rhythm is an album with a thin atmosphere. There is little reverberation, just repetition, vocal samples repeating without degrading.

Despite its shortcomings, Always Want is a debut that shows considerable promise and a willingness to test the boundaries of the singer-songwriter framework.

What Batoh offers us here is a snapshot of a despondent, acousmatic psychogeography - a grief-stricken poetics wherein the blank nirvana-impulse of the Shinto rite of chinkonsai jars against the bleeding-edge caterwaul of his BPM machine.

Downright seductive.

As it stands, the album (along with the essential corresponding film, Icon Eye) stands as a rather moving document of the profundity of the cross-cultural and cross-generational conversation that goes on throughout all popular culture, and given the niche audiences for both Sun Araw and The Congos, this project offers a view on a very rarely explored conversation at that.

[Modern Jester] is, admittedly, a comprehensive representation of his course thus far, but the amalgamation of Dilloway's diverse temperament presents something untried and, for want of a better way to put it, pretty ****ing violent.

The real genius of this record, and of Ghost Box's output more generally, is that it works even if you don't 'get' the references in anything like a conscious sense, even if they don't make you feel 'nostalgic' per se.

Perhaps his greatest record.

Cynics might call it selling out or betrayal, but the convenience of bringing Death Grips' innovative and destructive sound to a potentially wider audience is, at the very least, a positive thing.

Harmonicraft is a short, sweet collection of pop-metal confectionery, irresistible if not unforgettable.

This is a sexy album.

There are plenty of sticky hooks and hummable melodies to be found, and their existence inside the delicate, shifting tapestries are what makes Dreams Say so endearing.

Something in the air of the hoary label worked obscurely on his imagination.