Overall, Satin Panthers is an excellent new entry in the Hudson Mohawke discography, a case in which an artist stayed the stylistic course and improved on an already-successful formula.

Though it’s easy to compare his music to the ambient and electronica progenitors, Elasticity is very much the product of now--from the depth of production to the modern palette deployed.

For those who seek out dancefloors in order to witness the unravelling of an electronic journey, this is one of only a handful albums this year to have delivered exactly that. Fewer still have done so with such distinctness.

The different styles explored throughout Carrier produce varying sonic results, but never fail to assure the listener that they are listening to one of the most emotionally rich electronic records of this year.

Neon Indian's second album is a collection of more serious and straightforward pop tunes that separate his penchants for the past and its oddities, and shed nearly all trademarks of the dubious genre he haphazardly pioneered.

Impressive in both scale and execution, Heartland succeeds not just due to Pallett's sizable talents, but his belief in his even larger ambition.

It's the defiantly weird edges that make Compass cohere.

Call it short and sweet. And the vibe is definitely sweet, all acoustic guitars, reverb synths, and Sly & Robbie-worthy bass and drum rhythms.

Backwater, is a further refinement of their sound, fleshing it out and blanketing it with a gauzy patina that’s almost intrinsically appealing.

Had he trimmed the fat a touch and maybe tacked on an extra track or two in its place, Ital's LP might have been something closer to remarkable.

It's that attachment to the Earth that makes Clams Casino's otherworldly hip-hop familiar enough to reach any true lover of beats.

The record accomplishes what Eno has proposed is ambient music's main purpose: to heighten one's sense of their surroundings while allowing their own narrative to fill the music with meaning and context.

The decision to reject seamless beatmatching has only enhanced the mix, and lets us look into the Actress's process in a different context.

So many things have been synthesized into Chewed Corners from so many sources and ideas that any sense of direction, reaction, or engagement with the cutting edge is markedly less adventurous than most releases on his own label.

The watery guitar parts of All the Way remain, rolled up into gritty, more linear drum-machine rhythms that occasionally give way to the serene drone of Growing's earlier years.

With more misses than hits on Bibio's new LP, it's apparent that his array of influences are best served in separate portions rather than blended together.

The Music Scene adds new knots to Blockhead's sly, ironic take on boom-bap, incorporating shifting structures that spiral into changing tempos, half-remembered snippets of soul horns and gnarly old guitars, and occasional drifts into hazy, shimmering psychedelia. Sadly, this fog thickly enshrouds the back half of the disc as the tempos stagnate, rendering it inert and crying out for a shot of adrenaline.

Perhaps realizing that it's divisive and reductive to only dabble in one or the other, SMD opts for a satisfactory middle ground in its live sets, rearranging the pair's accessible pop moments as skeletal reincarnations of themselves.

Comfort won't be for everyone, but it's hard to argue that the risks Coles has taken don't pay off. If nothing else, it's certainly fascinating to watch her expand her aesthetic beyond the dancefloor.

A cursory listen to The North Borders may give a "been there done that" impression at points, but a closer listen reveals just how much he's carefully pushing his own boundaries.

While it's engaging, tantalizing and consistently interesting, it tests the listener by wading through a foliage of field recordings and mouth harps to get to its core, requiring an effort which can potentially get wearying at times.

All of these seemingly fragmented entries would be rather disappointing were it not for the fact that they are all brought together in one final movement-a continuous DJ mix. It's like an 'aha' moment; without it, Hermansen's concept wouldn't successfully come together.

The thing that makes the LP so engaging is the fact that Shaw picks a mood and runs with it--this is not an album that lives up to the cliché of taking the listener on a journey; rather, it's a work that roots the listener to a spot and stares them dead in the eyes for an hour.

Jaga Jazzist transforms potentially icy sonics into warm, clever outbursts with apparent ease.

Bjorke's ear candy is delightful when consumed, but rarely worth a repeat. Still, Bjorke has plenty of sonic reach, and his album is worth a spin to find the scattering of gems.

Smalhans, [is] a return to his old self that alternatively plays things a little too safe by offering six tracks of Lindstrøm-by-numbers.

Personality is less a cohesive statement than a scattered reflection of the experimental process that's come to define Scuba's output in the new decade.

It has style and character, it's both puzzling and gratifying, and above all, it's filled with solid tunes.

Nothing feels forced or amplified for impact. It’s a humble and understated sound and one that endears me to her as a human. The tracks and the overall narrative are succinct, though I wished the trip was longer. When the album finished I was compelled to play it through again.

Darnell is entirely aware of his own bravado, and it's that bravado, along his willingness to keep tongue in cheek, that makes I Wake Up Screaming such a worthwhile listen.

It's a singular, though often exciting, vision with seemingly no end, but as the scope of Sun Araw expands wider and wider, it might benefit its creator and his tools to grow along with it.

In spite of its occasional missteps, it ably bridges futuristic synthscapes with the rhythmic dexterity of footwork's foremost practitioners.

An album whose tastefulness and craft never compromise its intrigue.

Only a handful of Replicant Moods' tracks make a lasting impression, but this foursome still consistently gets the entropy-to-pattern ratio just right.

As a series, Pop Ambient may gradually be losing its vitality, but its musical perspective does not have to. Moving forward, an adjustment to the delivery platform would do much to make Pop Ambient's sound more relevant.

This record may be an EP in name, but it's certainly a long-player in scope.

The album is relentlessly cinematic, almost oppressively so, which makes listening to Lost Themes from start to finish a bizarrely visual experience; whereas a great deal of electronic music is remarkably open to interpretation.

For the most part, it's simply a pleasure to sit back and plug in.

At the very least, Dear God, I Hate Myself marks a new level of maturity and self-awareness for the band.

Despite appearances from the likes of Mala, dBridge, Flying Lotus, Gang Gang Dance, and Cooly G, King Midas Sound's collection of Waiting for You remixes largely feels uneven and half-baked.

The main problem is that the songs too often feel like sketches. The punchline is sold too quickly, the finish too abrupt.

It’s a delicate, naked offering that flits between mournful vocals, processed backward synths and serrated edges of what sounds like guitar distortion.

Skating along on smooth sounds that seem almost effortless, these outer-galaxy footwork songs-along with the energy and aura they display--are Ital Tek's strong suit.

When a dance album cannot contain a grander narrative, the next best result is certainly a selection of floor-primed productions, and on this front, Orbiting delivers.

II may actually prove itself to be the group's most accomplished record, and one Moderat fans will come back to more often down the line.

Chorus is not quite clinical, but it's getting there.

Although his political ideas may be rough hewn, Doom's latest effort stands out from some of the major releases in his discography.

These songs, as subtle and delicate as they are, are vivid and transporting. It’s a fully-formed album, whatever its intent, and full of quiet passion.

Planet High School is obviously not perfect, nor should it be, but it is a step upwards and onwards for Mux Mool.

Mi Ami continues to explore its loose-groove, jam-band tendencies on the epic "Dreamers" and album closer "Slow," but in far more reserved quantities than Watersports, making for a much more exciting and immediately lovable listen.

Bass Clef may have created a solid album, but, in the end, this lovely exercise leaves a sense that it was all a bit too easy for him.

One of Paper Tiger's finest qualities is its ability to include a diverse list of contributors who provide just the right formula of loops, dub beats, and samples to the album without making it seem bloated.

Clearly, Rathbun is a talented producer, and his debut full-length appears to imply that he's nowhere near to running out of ideas.

From a distance, Paradise continues to connect the dots of Hood's career, but up close, it's completely absorbing.

The LP's 11 tracks play like a string of variations on two or three ideas, but most of Murray's and Smith's experimenting is strong enough that Syndrome Syndrome sounds more like a collection of singles written by a veteran outfit dedicated to perfecting one beloved sound.

It's a different, and more unique effort [than Rooms(s)]. Moreover, the LP doesn't look outside of itself to the same extent that its predecessor did.

One of the best editions of Total to come along in a while.

Though Miami displays a jazzier, looser, and often darker side of Brandt Brauer Frick, it doesn't overshadow the classical techno-ensemble sound the trio first introduced on You Make Me Real.

Salton Sea is good, but ultimately doesn't leave as strong an impression as it intends.

You can definitely hear her thinking her way through each track, treating each as packets of sound, to be observed and experienced in a loop.

Enthusiast is a solid, eclectic offering, and, if it truly is Siriusmo's last, it's not a bad way to end a long career.

Some lo-fi purists will undoubtedly cry foul when they hear "The Longest Shadows" or "When It Comes," which bookend the album with slightly glossier production and an '80s goth-disco vibe that recalls Siouxsie and The Banshees or The Church. These tracks, along with "On Giving Up" and "Constant Winter," undeniably signal High Places' shift toward a more accessible sound, but they also happen to be some of the brightest spots on the album.

One of the album's strong points is the balance it confidently finds between active and passive, as if it's encouraging listeners to be aware of their attention drifting between their thoughts and the spacious terrain provided by the music.

Despite scattered flashes of brilliance, too often it's an album that feels unambitious, as though it's content to dwell in the middle ground where the two producers' back catalogs intersect rather than forge something new.

Desecration of Desire is still built on everything that Dave Clarke has created to date, but the hardness is gone; and if you look close enough, you might be able to find the soft exterior he’s trying to show.

The project as a whole is impressive, but it's a testament to Gonzales that his music holds up to the grand scope of his endeavor.

A bleak and beautiful ambient record that occasionally reaches beyond its self-imposed confines.

Ultimately, Dutch is less vibrant and, well, relevant than dance deconstructions by Actress or Oneohtrix, but it's also a lot harder to pin down, and there's a rogue-ish appeal to that.

Most tracks play like one elongated idea and only a few songs sound fully fleshed-out, giving Thing a half-baked, underwhelming vibe.

Dream On finds him utilizing the computer-processed end of his sound with a newly savage intensity.

Make no mistake, Our Inventions is a very nice album—"Rest Your Head" and "Everything is Always" are precious little slices of pop music—just don't expect kids who have been gorging on the psychedelic exploits of Animal Collective to flip out over this one.

Bespoke features a wealth of sounds and guest singers, but Darlington often lacks the glue to hold them together.

It's a better idea to approach the album for what it is: a pretty, if somewhat slight take on sun-saturated psychedelia.

The angst and abrasiveness inherent to Adult. is still present in some form (even a quick look at track names like "Nothing Lasts," "At the End of It All," and "Heartbreak" reveals that much), but the band has undoubtedly smoothed things over and pushed its sound closer to the dancefloor.

White Hills have struck a riveting balance between heaviness and ethereality while proving space rock can still stimulate four decades after its Big Bang.

The knotty lyricism and psychedelic rumble of 12 Reasons to Die II should be more than enough to keep Ghostface fans satisfied.

In the end, his attempt to tackle the alienating, intense feelings related to this subject turns out to not only be insightful and emotional, but oddly graceful as well.

The album's dusty beats, pointed electronics, and cinematic feel are pleasantly familiar, at best they recall the band's past glory rather than pushing forward their legacy.

Home's biggest problem is that it can easily drift by almost unnoticed.

Though his misses may make Ghettoville appear lopsided and drab, every on-point production buried in the heap makes mucking through Cunningham's warped ideas rewarding work.

While the duo proves to have an able hand at constructing reflective, chilled-out, or pleasant vibes, the record's darker and more brooding auras come up a little short.

Occasional lyrical missteps aside, Arrington's voice sounds as smooth as ever on this album, which is great, although it does overshadow Dam-Funk's significant vocal talent.

Carbonated may not be exactly what the legions of devoted Mount Kimbie fans have been pining for, but music with such intricately weaved details surely takes time, and this EP proves to be a welcome stopgap to help hold us over.

II’s songs can glide by like a benevolent mirage, not quite registering but still leaving an afterglow. That afterglow is exquisite, however.

Half of Where You Live is a considerably more rewarding album, one that creates lush, sophisticated, and disarmingly inviting music using the simple building blocks of sample-based beats and deeply personal musical storytelling.

While Power exhibits his range in mood and melody on this self-titled debut, one can't help but wonder how much the album could have benefited from even the smallest touch of the rhythms that give his other outfit its vibrant energy.

There are a few lulls to be heard on Haven (as in songs like "Someone" or "At Last," that begin with good ideas but never form into anything more substantial), but they are all easily overshadowed by the fascinating convergence of influences that comprise the album's 10 tracks, making it an extremely promising debut and a uniquely assertive statement in its own right.

Through it all, in the music and in Weatherall’s characterful vocals, Public Image Limited is a clear influence. The album is at its best, though, at its most cosmic.

Dance to it if you must, but enjoy Fading Love for what it is--a lovely, heartfelt set of tunes from a still-evolving composer and producer.

Dark Crawler is the sound of Terror Danjah hitting artistic maturity.

The kitsch value may warrant a spin or two for curiosity's sake, but few of the album's 10 productions have the staying power of the musical touchstones Com Truise is referencing.

His Headcage EP, released yesterday via Ghostly, continues on that trajectory, moving toward music for a wider audience while maintaining much of the oddness that makes him popular in the world beyond the mainstream.

Bundick's Causers of This is also peaceful, but the album's tranquil tones sound a lot more like happy accidents than well-executed plans.

It wanders more like a Hype Williams album would, and leaves that opening promise to dangle unfulfilled.

Joke in the Hole is an unusually infectious outing for an artist whose recent work with Black Dice, although intermittently catchy, remains as unrelentingly challenging as it's ever been.

Despite what its title might imply, The Keychain Collection feels very cohesive, more like a planned progression than a mere combination of tunes.

Tracer is an album executed with seriousness and intelligence, and although it is never outright contemplative, the record is never jubilant either.

The speedy segue between Jungle Buddha’s raucous DnB cut “Drug Me” and Black Acid’s eponymous 303 track is the pick of the early exchanges, but it feels rushed and airless--deeply contrasting with Burial’s trademark spacey sound-chasms. ... [OKZharp & Manthe Ribane’s “Treasure Erasure”] arrives during a decent section that also includes the more gentle timbres of Ben Frost (remixed by Jlin) and Proc Fiskal (also on Hyperdub); these are nice, but are separated by the squeaky rudeboy MCing of Dean Blunt’s Babyfather alter-ego, another bizarrely jarring selection. ... FabricLive 100 feels hurried, uncomfortable, and impossible to feel truly at peace in.