Directional swerves are admirable, but make an uneven set, especially as the material from their first three albums has more palpable sparkle than the rest.

Too many cuts are lost in the middle. [Jun 2018, p.115]

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

There's no distinct personality to be heard, or the kind of dynamic ideas that could give it the ability to totally dominate a room.

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.

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.

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.

Another patchy long-player from a proven producer.

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

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.

Love School Of Seven Bells and The XX? You'll like this.

Even when the groove lessens, doubters are liable to be persuaded by their innate knack for epic choruses.

The results, all shimmering synths and echo effects noodle along on 4/4, often for the best part of seven minutes, and we can't help but feel that some of this has been done before.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

They’re solid tracks though few approach his greatest moments.

Despite falling short of its higher-octane predecessor, this difficult second album isn’t without its moments.

Is it a fun, well-selected mix to throw on at a party and dance to? Yes. And, sometimes, that's enough.

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.

This is a largely dejected and sombre affair that is perhaps only for those of a darker disposition.

Mostly it's party music, pure and simple.

Fun, if a little two-dimensional.

It can be difficult listening, but stick with Prinz's half-spoken vocals and Horn's snaking basslines, and your reward is an album of raw, rhythmic energy.

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

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

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 charming, understated record.

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

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.

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

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.

Atmospheric, intriguing and emotional.

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.

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.

An oddity, sure: but a fun one.

Funchess' extraordinary voice will get much attention, but this is the full package.

While it’s hard not to view the five solo instrumentals as some of the strongest work here, overall Getting Closer is well worth some private investigating.

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.

This remix compilation is a Who's Who of the electronic left field, but doesn't quite retain the character of the album.

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.

Sticking with a winning formula can be commendable, but this is pales in comparison with past glories.

Their darker second album leans more towards mid-80s baroque-pop.

A richly listenable collection.

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.

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.

While you could argue that Soul Clap have made better tracks than the 13 on offer here, there's no doubt that EFUNK is an enjoyable party album filled with jovial invention and several major tricks up its sleeve.

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

It's not 100 per cent coherent, but especially if you get the bonus instrumental disc you'll find proof of an important talent spreading his wings.

Unashamedly one-dimensional, this mix will continue to divide.