He throws minute snippets of deep soul, techno, funk, liquid acid, Kraftwerk, Eurythmics, cosmic jazz and more into his blender, chops them into freaky, twitchy rhythms and underpins them with monumental bass--and it is amazing.

The only trouble is, it all feels a little... dated.

It’s easy to pick out highlights, but every single one delivers something different and equally fantastic.

It’s absolutely breathtaking in its audacity and intergalactic ambition, and even breathtakingly beautiful in places. But... it’s bloody tiring too.

Lone tunes are nothing if not growers--but there’s no question that this is one of our best artists on the form of his life.

Sometimes great, often fun, but mostly quite confused, it’s not a focused LP--though it’s certainly an expression of the oddness of 2014.

Viewed as a showcase of reinvention The Feast Of The Broken Heart is a success. Judged as a cohesive album, it’s far tighter than their previous long-player and repeat listens do indeed find new, exciting depths and melodies at play.

"If in doubt, smile and dance" is the agenda.

If you stop trying to hear it as grime, and listen to it as a sci-fi movie of an album, a classy electronica dream journey through a high tech Orient, then that gloss becomes a strength, and it really does stand up on its own.

OK, it can be a bit tiring at times, but if you’re feeling open minded enough, this is a fluid, super-charged masterpiece.

Glow is an epic achievement, an album that bolsters its disco-flecked gems with 80s funk, Euro synth-pop and chunky 90s house tropes.

He’s a soundboy at heart, so you’ll hear bass-propelled elements at play (dewy jungle breaks, grimey synth stabs, low-end bumps, the no-bullshit patter of MC DRS), but ‘Presents James Grieve’ is all about exhilarating propulsion and the power of drums.

There are some moments of absolute beauty here but all too often the vocalists don’t bring the character of a Horace Andy or Tracey Thorn (or indeed 3D or Daddy G), and overall it all feels a bit slick.

Opener ‘Miami Theme’ sets the tone, Erika Janunger’s voice floating over brooding piano chords, like a Lynchian club scene.

It’s as beguiling and bewitching as you’d expect.

This is some of Willner’s most enriching and captivating work yet.

There’s something about CEO’s second album that’s so wide-eyed, so full of wonder that even when it approaches absolute sugar overload it’s impossible to dislike.

With no twee gimmicks, vibrant colour and bold substance are present in spades, resulting in an album that’s nothing short of a masterclass in left-of-centre dance music.

Little Red’s desire to tread new ground is admirable and, in principle, the idea of Katy going head-to-head with US r’n’b singers is great, but the quality is simply not as dynamic, hook-laden or convincing as the first five songs.

Get ready for shimmering, disco-dipped house and digital soul, long German titles and impish unconventionality.

A texturally rugged selection with plenty of technical dexterity along the way maintains a bumping tempo--in turn, completing a solid trio of mixes themed around one of the Capital’s leading residencies.

During the more hurtling crescendos the arrangement gets a little cluttered and abrasive, but on the whole, Walking Lines is a notable addition to the shoegaze category.

[Ron Morelli] actively dislikes clubs--but he’s managing to infiltrate them with this insurgent electronic music.

Still puzzling, but for the most part very lovely.

Effectively present(ish), past and downtempo, it’s a fascinating glimpse into one of dance’s most fertile minds.

A vastly resourceful and well-structured opus by a true master of horizontal stylings.

Eve is no ground-breaker, but Booka Shade’s solid reputation remains safe.

The way it evolves is engrossing; from the get-go you’re submerged in thunderous kicks, alarming bleeps and juddering basslines, and what makes it even more impressive is that much of it was created on the fly.