Gently fizzing electronica meets grand structures and intimate explorations of instruments, and the results are both strange and deeply, instantly enjoyable. With the bar already set very high, he may just have produced his best record yet.

[A] collage of raw, percussive grooves that combines post-punk, performance poetry, analogue synth explorations, crypto-techno and acid. It’s challenging, yes, but endlessly hypnotic, too.

The momentum does slacken, though, and the album doesn’t feel particularly structured. Still, songs such as the fierce ‘Scum’ and the stately ‘No More’ are worthy additions to the band’s catalogue, and have far more grit and vividness than you’d expect from any band 37 years into their career.

There’s nothing new here, but you know what? That’s more than fine.

The tracks without vocal turns are left feeling slightly lacking, but the killer outweighs the filler.

Each track takes you to some very unexpected places. In the process, each delivers feelings much more potent than a lot of the supposedly “emotional” dancefloor music currently flooding the market at the moment.

There’s head-melting brilliance here, but he makes you work for it.

Fans of Flume and Caribou will find much to savour.

Growing up watching this, it’s no wonder we all ended up in dark rooms marching to repetitive beats.

Take a cult Bristolian label and add an African influence from Italian musician Clap! Clap!, and we might just have the best fusion record to kick of 2017 so far.

Seaton, as Call Super, invokes Peel’s memory on Fabric 92--if not in sound, then in the personal nature and spirit that percolates throughout.

It hangs on the pair’s innate ability to find light and space amid the sturm und drang.

There are no beats, just dynamic peaks and troughs, and the hugely textural and evocative results are unsettling yet absorbing.

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.

Fusing sonic intricacies, captivating melodies and compelling storytelling, Dirty Projectors’ eighth LP is their most honest and affecting yet.

Process is a moving, musical autobiography of futuristic, soulful electronica and brittle r’n’b.

Bleckmann rope-a-dopes like a voice boxer between the wobbly punches of ambient jazz and chilly chamber tones. [No. 139, p.53]

Hard Love is easy to adore. [No. 139, p.61]

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.

Meditative house music moments from Italojohnson and Vin Sol also bring the heat in the first hour, while for the final furlong, he opts for two peak-time Audion exclusives and brings the mix to a close with DJ Khalab & Baba Sissoko’s ‘Kumu’.

Like a warm embrace on an icy morning, the pair’s captivating harmonies come together effortlessly on debut album Silhouette.

Their post-rock roots are still detectable on New Spirit, but there’s a dark-hearted dance aesthetic filtering through it.

It’s a record of subtle strength, with all-encompassing warmth and chilled introspection.

Epoch is perhaps a little overly fluffy at times, but plenty of sunshine pokes through the clouds.

It does nothing new--its tone barely changes over the single 54-minute piece--yet it makes you feel really, really good. Always perverse, Eno achieves the most when he does the least.

A heavy bass throb infects ‘Retour au Champs de Mars’, beating out a slow, muted rhythm like a submarine engine, while the pair channel labelmate Nils Frahm with the emotive strings, piano and frazzled electronica of ‘Comme on a Dit’.

‘Recursion’ sprawls across its six minutes like modern-day Bach, while ‘Prism Pt 1’ is loping analogue house that jerks and pivots to an idiosyncratic tempo.

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

The xx have undergone a gentle makeover, but what lies at their heart remains the same. Songs for lovers. Songs for the rejected. Songs for all of us.

Lonely Planet is an exquisitely lush and naturalistic affair with humid jungle atmospheres, bird calls, yawning chords and fluttering melodies all encouraging you to lay back in the sun and let go.

Infectious and groove-laden, Lose My Cool manages to be both forward-thinking and vintage at the same time.

It’s what one might call a ‘proper’ LP, with its theme providing the foundation for some fantastic techno.

Charming, incredibly soulful and emotionally charged, this record introduces us to a whole new, golden side of Donald Glover--and should elevate him to a new level of stardom.

For large parts, it’s funky, luxurious and giddy, with the Tony Allen Afrobeat collab ‘2nd Chance’ just the icing on the cake. A pleasant surprise.

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

Energetic, endearing and still unlike anybody else, Sleigh Bells continue to unapolegtically pummel your senses.

There are times when it does feel a little dry, but it’s still an album that’s definitely deserving of your time.

Undulating melodies, exquisite sparkling detail and a sense of vast space all add up to a blissful listening experience.

His new LP feels like a return to the resonance of his earlier work.

Flashes of 80s electro sleaze, throwback house and glossy diva vocals all add to the fun.

It’s a labour of love, with edits laid over each other in places like sheets of fine filo pastry. There are officially 19 tracks, but it takes 42 records for Scuba to build them from.

This isn’t going to win over any newcomers but, when you tune in to its ebbing and flowing intensities, it can be totally transporting.

The key, though, is that each track will slot effortlessly into their famously hypnotic live shows.

There’s enough in the graceful deep techno and misty synths of ‘Far Away From A Distance’ and the subtly jacking ‘Flying Or Falling’ to satisfy both head and feet.

There remains something unknowable about them; their presence is always somewhat enigmatic, served only by the gilded sheen of their music which remains ornate but, crucially, as approachable as ever.

Album number three is her finest, and most topical, yet.

Woman is a really good record and an accomplished, confident body of work, but it may leave those hankering for something with more venom feeling a little impatient.

Mayer has always had an ability to weave the richest dancefloor cheese into forms both experimental and emotional, and here he’s chosen exactly the right people to amplify different sides of his music.

The album’s percussive moments are perfect for sunny festival slots. Elsewhere, ‘London Lights’ is comparatively relaxed, though its slow-burning synth-line stretches into club territory, and the expansive sonic landscape throughout ‘Black Prism’ could be a James Blake cut.

Strings also form the structure of ‘Fuel The Fire’, one of the album’s standouts. And then there’s the ominous ‘Paradise’, which places light and darkness side by side in a tremendous exercise of juxtaposition. That same balance is present through the album and, combined with Illum’s knack for making everything sound so exquisite, makes it a superb little record.

Mixing organic instrumentation, such as the ethereal guitar of ‘Vision Trail’, this album laces its cuddliness with melancholy.

Other tracks have a steady kick and soulful samples, but these are made glitchy and trippy in the style of classic Akufen (see ‘Come Close to Me’ and ‘New Love’), or have wonky synth tones that blurt out of the mix (‘Je T’Aime’, ‘L.U.V.’). And the downtempo tunes that surround them also swerve off their expected tracks and into psychedelic and deliciously weird territory. This is precisely the sort of confounding of expectations we love to hear, and bodes well for a long, interesting career.

Witty, conceptual, original and above all both musically exciting and enjoyable, it’s an understatement to say that DVA’s second album NOTU_URONLINEU is mature.

Make no mistake, it’s Jaar in microcosm: a groundbreaking artist using all the weapons at his disposal in an attempt to move you. And trust us, you will be

In particular, the beautiful and ambient narco-breakbeat of ‘4am Exhale’ and swooning downtempo of ‘9 Elms Over River Eno (Channel 9)’ are two gentle, aural hugs from these two esteemed purveyors of sonic sunshine.

The influence of earthy sub-Saharan blues is readily apparent on the choppy fretwork of ‘Walrus’, and the raw loops he creates by on-the-fly sampling have universal appeal. Similarly his voice, with its soaring inflections and echoes of Sting and Jeff Buckley, is a hugely effective tool.

A thematic sequel to 2011 breakout mixtape ‘XXX’, Danny Brown remains rap’s most unique force.

We’re a long way from Super Collider, but there’s really not a duff card in the pack.

Its 13 tracks are more versatile in lyrical depth and vocal flow than before and, when added to his trademark intensity, are proof that Mykki's moved to the next level.

Whether it’s in the tribal drums, sensual vocals or huge range of instruments, you’re unlikely to hear a more diverse collection of music this year.

It’s hugely fun and definitely full of Human Energy, ensuring that it’s an album well-named.

As a producer, Barratt is the equal of anyone working today, but what’s most amazing is that even after 30-plus years, he still seems to be as connected with the magic of dancefloor moments as he ever was.

Bolder and with increased confidence, I Remember sounds more succinct and complete than 2013 debut ‘Body Music’.

Maier’s urbane persona is as funny, funky and disquieting as ever, and this album is a righteously fresh addition to their catalogue.

Far from being austere, though, the cavernous riffs of ‘November’ or undulating synth pulses of ‘Phoenicia’ are like a warm blanket of comforting sound, while more direct and urgent Joy Division-esque kickers like ‘Complicated’ lurk elsewhere.

‘Love Sick’ is filled with sensual longing and ‘Mind Games’ screams out anger over crashing synths. ‘Trainwreck’, meanwhile, is an instant banger with Banks’ aggressive lyrics structured around trap-infused production. Elsewhere, though, soul-baring ballad ‘Mother Earth’ and stripped-back closer ‘To The Hilt’ are more easily forgotten.

As expected, the new offering from Oizo is a revelation--no-one quite does it like him. Now, with the help of his friends, he’s created another nigh-on masterpiece.

Patten’s third release is a whistle-stop tour of the UK’s hardcore continuum, never pausing long enough to get bored.

Boy King is intrusive, abrasive and in-your-face--but that’s no criticism: one can imagine lads properly belting out ‘Big Cat’ and ‘Alpha Female’ at live shows.

All of the trademark Marconi-isms are here, but they’re now emboldened by broader musical strokes.

It takes us back to the late 00s, when the likes of Martyn, Sepalcure and Joy Orbison were bringing lushness and melody to (post) dubstep--and that’s no bad place to be at all.

Nobody else sounds like them right now.

The aural familiarity of tracks such as ‘Anyware’, with its warp-speed cellphone melodies, imbibes Motion Graphics with warmth and, above all, joy.

This is the record Zomby’s always promised to make, and it’s everything we could have hoped for.

Even if you’re not spiritually inclined, the music is still proper techno: chuggy in some places and mystical in others, but always total class.

The man who won a BAFTA for his soundtrack to Broadchurch stitches his own sombre and beatless exclusives into rainy, greyscale pop, intimate ambient and frosty bass like it ain’t no thing beautiful.

An energetic, main-room mix that touches on many styles.

The whole album is perfectly paced, with hypnotic grooves and simple songwriting: density and space are constantly played off each other, helping to create something that should be taken in as a whole. It’s been well worth the wait.

This is a complex and endlessly enjoyable record.

Sometimes the album’s pacing drifts a little, but that’s a price worth paying for being taken to such mysterious places.

Ibifornia is a lush, exotic album with star-studded collabs which sounds as inspired by the jungle as it is by the dancefloor.

Recorded in Sydney, New York and California, ‘Faraway Reach’ bursts with sun-soaked vibes.

It’s a twilight dream of a record that’s uncompromisingly odd but absolutely direct, and addictive from first listen. The Invisible have made the album of the summer.

It’s just him, a piano and a bunch of songs (some original, some standards), and they feel so raw that listening to them borders on the uncomfortable.

Written in her producer’s garden shed rather than the confines of a studio, Laura Mvula sounds confident and free throughout her second album.

Trippy instrumental ‘Traanc’ is probably the most quintessential Audion track, while ‘Destroyer’ and ‘Sucker’ scream Circoloco 2016 until their production lungs run out of steam.

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.

There’s the risk of pastiche here--and sometimes the slow builds, churning synths and sinister whispers seem generic, like you’ve heard them before--but at their best they sound elemental, and perfect for the darkest of dancefloors.

Edited to its very essence, the album is only 36 minutes long, but sometimes that’s all you need.

Some of his best yet.

Journeying and introspective, U pieces together a narrative that reflects on a past relationship; sculpting electronica, garage and piano together effortlessly.

Swapping sixth form studies for her real passion of singing, writing and producing music, the 19-year-old’s mature debut is an autobiographical “art project”.

It’s reminiscent of that doyenne of experimental electronica, Laurie Anderson--and that’s a heck of a compliment.

Should I Remain Here At Sea? and Taste stand as proof that "Mastermind, Islands" should be Thorburn's lead credit. [No. 131, p.57]

It makes for a tumultuous trip that has all the highs and lows of a real relationship, and one that sounds as good alone, on headphones, as it will in the club.

On occasion the constantly shifting patterns can get a bit itchy and unsettling, but for the most part it’s a joyful creation.

For the most part, it’s a sweaty journey of ribcage-rattling techno from the genre’s biggest players.

From where we’re standing, this is the debut album of the year.