Too often--as on ‘The Last Of Goodbyes’, with its limp rap and doleful Burialisms--it sounds like Moby pastiching his old self. On the flip side, ‘Welcome To Hard Times’, a sunny Balearic soul shuffle, is lovely, and the ghostly piano haunting ‘The Tired And The Hurt’ contains the muscle memory of his masterpiece ‘Porcelain’, but they’re isolated sparkles.

Reminiscent of a clumsier kind of guitar-drums-bass (plus synths) arrangement, the only remnant of Hung’s Fuck Buttons days is the privileging of drums in the mix. The rest of this unexpected foray is a trip into a post-punk and synth-pop past that needs no repeating.

If you’re a little refreshed and in the midst of a heartfelt festival singalong, things might sound different. But it’s hard to get caught up in some of the grandiose gestures on offer here.

Weirder tracks such as ‘System 100’ break the routine a bit, but it’d be nice to hear Moiré’s huge production skill with more variation of tone.

It drifts from merely being waftily pretty to really elegant to sublime and back with the greatest ease, which can be frustrating--but those sublime moments are enough to make you come back for more.

It’d be nice to hear voice and production crack and cut loose even more--but he’s heading in the right direction.

As it is, the high points still make this essential, but shorn of a few tracks, this album would be so much better.

There are a few tracks (including the two straight-ahead rap tunes and haunting closer ‘Suicide Pact’) where he does actually let the groove unfold naturally, but that just makes even more frustratingly clear how much better the rest of this record could be if only Shadow would just ease off on the tinkering and fidgeting.

Heartfelt lullabies backed by rich instrumentation make for a promising enough first half that leads to the dour title track. From here, razor-blade distortion, crashing cymbals and mournful torment combine to create a tough listen, before respite eventually comes in the form of an exhausted outro.

Despite its length, it's not pushing any boundaries: it's smooth and sweet, with nothing to give you nightmares, but as a piece of high-class chillout music, it works very well.

The squelchy synths and intergalactic funk of the record's first half stand tall, but at 20 tracks long, it becomes a tad tiresome at the halfway mark.

With only six new songs (and just seven tracks in total), it could have been a longer trip.

As culturally diverse as it all is, it’s the tonal depth of the assembly that creates an engaging synergy.

The less fluffy tunes are the best: ‘Elevate’ and ‘Go All Night’ both have old-skool house elements and a jacking groove that mean there’s more to this LP than a collection of festival sing-alongs.

Groundbreaking it may not be, but Huxley brings a touch more class than some of his contemporaries.

There are some excellent tracks here--‘Lights On’, ‘Two Weeks’, ‘Pendulum’--and her talent is obvious, but the men at the production desk could perhaps have been braver.

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

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

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

At points it’s utterly lovely--you can’t beat the combination of strings and Tony Allen’s drumming--but at others it’s slightly silly.

A richly listenable collection.

Although some of the arrangements and electronic embellishments are lavish, there are few obvious peaks and troughs apart from the epic throb of ‘Thea’.