This is a short album that toggles around pretty familiar sounds without doing anything new with them. But in this final salvo, Walls have proven that they are a force.

When Lantern hits its high points, it ends up somewhere in the stratosphere. When it falters, it's mostly because it's too ambitious, either thematically, as with the overblown love songs, or technically, as with the roller-coaster sequencing that halts the momentum over and over.

Folding Time sounds so manicured and lovely that it's hard to find fault with its production value. If the album has a problem, it's that it makes a lateral move rather than a forward one.

Dunn fulfills the title's promise by exploring other styles, though most fall squarely within the "old-school house" category. ... Other digressions don't fare as well. ... Still, when My House From All Angles hits, it hits hard.

The brilliance in moments of these tracks doesn't add up to a fully engaging album experience, but Aguayo deserves plenty of credit for continuing to show the imagination he thought minimal lacked all those years ago.

James spends most of the EP in that exploratory mode, and though there's a certain pleasure in listening to an artist figure things out, a full 28 minutes feels like overkill. Regardless, it's comforting to know James isn't settling into a routine.

The result is an album split between brilliant and head-scratching moments, and it's all a lot take in at once. Anxiety dressed up Ashin's neuroses in glossy textures, while Age Of Transparency lets them writhe all over the floor. Like his live show, it's thrilling, confusing and uncomfortable in equal measure.

Most of his LPs show his love of prog and fusion. In other words, they've been lengthy, ambitious full-lengths with an array of singles sprinkled throughout. Cerebral Hemispheres is exactly that. Whatever its flaws, it's a solid entry in a legendary discography.

Venetian Snares albums are usually tough and intense listens, but Traditional Synthesizer Music can be fuzzy to a fault. It lacks the internal turmoil that defines Funk's best music.

Where Ufabulum felt like a garish souvenir from the performance built around it, Damogen Furies is more substantial and self-contained.

Aa isn't a disappointment, but clocking in at 34 minutes with a handful of tracks that feel unfinished, it's not exactly a home run either.

Without much more than endless stretches of sound to hang onto, The Four Worlds occasionally drifts into tedium. The record's pair of vocal cuts stand out as a result, regardless of how effective they are.

Ultimately, Tears In The Club could have been a nearly flawless six-track EP--though the filler doesn't detract from the more noteworthy tunes on here, it doesn't really contribute either.

Recorded in one take, fabric 87 captures the peak-time spirit of fabric's Room 2, and showcases exclusive edits from the DJ and remixes of currently boxfresh tracks like "Lolly Pop" by Reset Robot. So it's a shame that the mix runs out of energy before the end, pulling the knockout blow it should have had.

What The Journey Man most clearly captures is that taste for excess and self-indulgence. It's the work of an elder statesman who still has a special touch, but who doesn't know when to stop himself.

[Blood Rain is] the track on Bodied that best reflects the influence of soundtrack work on Myson, music that feels powerful without being obvious or obtrusive. The rest of Bodied feels like a film score made for a blockbuster that isn't there. The LP's sculpted sound, dreamy sketches and haughty melodrama rarely feels like more than the sum of its often stunning parts.

Polymer's best parts show a keen balance of emotional and technical qualities. ... Still, Polymer gets soft roughly midway.

"DB Rip" feels like a missed opportunity to bring techno into play, while the title track overdoes its gothic pomp. The rest are slight but elegant mood pieces. Dal Forno is good at these, but it's her pop songs that do more than just tick the BEB boxes.

For all of its differences, Utility only sounds unnatural in the Kowton discography when it undermines the strengths of the music before it.

Three short instrumentals fail to muster the same energy. Interesting sounds abound, but they don't always connect, sometimes feeling less like music than collections of sound effects. At their best, though, Wolf Eyes evoke soundtracks to a lost drama whose characters are always in peril, be it from physical violence or internal torment.

Stylistically, it's more of a grab-bag than ever before, occasionally tipping the scales from charming to bombastic.

The State Between Us does, at times, attain a depth of its own, particularly when it's dealing in the sadness of separation Brexit engenders in roughly half of the population. But at other points it just seems to be saying, "Ooh, aren't we quirky?!"

Baio's tunes are short and snappy, and at around 40 minutes long, The Names takes less time than reading most chapters of a DeLillo book.

Where the artist's past work used abstract sound as a conceptual approach to trans identity, the choice to embrace lyricism makes Death Becomes Her a more fun and digestible listen.

This LP has the duo's best music; each track offers something to marvel at. But put them all together and it's like watching the world end 11 times in a row: what at first seems fearsome eventually turns mundane.

An album that's alluring in passing, but might not have you doubling back for a closer inspection.

Tejada being Tejada, the machines aren't done away with entirely. Amid the orchestral strings and irregular drums you'll hear the rich melodic layers and electronic processing that have long been Tejada hallmarks. His stamp is all over this typically classy if unsurprising album.

Long's drum programming in general lacks finesse. It has neither the rhythmic spark to make bodies move, nor the sculpted precision for a mind-expanding armchair experience. Sometimes this isn't a problem.

If there's a new sense of release in Beacon's music, the same can't be said of their lyrics. A familiar atmosphere of heartbroken reflection and pent-up frustration prevails.

Modern Streets may lack ingenuity, but it works as a sincere and relatable portrayal of the artist's experience.

All That Must Be is a smooth journey from start to finish, but it too often feels familiar. In spite of a new cast of collaborators, little about the LP improves on its predecessor. What sounded unique from FitzGerald three years ago isn't quite as satisfying this time around.

Repeat listens don't reveal any deeper logic to its tracklist, which remains a collection of intriguing ideas and not much more.

The jolt you get from Tiger & Wood's best work is missing. Perhaps the songs are too ornate, or maybe they're too similar to so much other retro-themed club fodder. Tiger & Woods haven't lost their spark, but their music shines less brightly than before.

Rather than an earth-shattering opus, Dream A Garden is a stepping stone to a new sound, one with enough promising moments to suggest it's only a matter of time before Latham gets there.

The mood of each piece sticks to a narrow range between quietly brooding and vaguely anthemic. But it's not only business as usual for Rival Consoles. In small pockets and slight gestures, distinctive traits emerge from West's symphonic electronics.

The forms are extraordinary and the surfaces dazzling, but it's unclear how to navigate through them. You're impressed but also confused, and you keep an eye out for the exit. Several tracks shine regardless.

Gou's DJ-Kicks, though filled with some stretches of sleek club music, struggles to find an overall thread to hold it together. The personal angle is not enough. Each of these tunes may hold a special significance in Gou's life. But to the listener, they don't quite reveal the story.

Ghost Culture is a good record from an artist who is probably capable of a great one.

Cunningham focuses primarily on selection for his hour-long jaunt through murky technoisms. All too often, though, technique and sequencing seem to have been banned from the booth.

The title track dates back to last year, and it makes a great case for SOPHIE as a Top 40 pop producer.... On the other three songs, it sounds like singer and producer are still learning how to work together.

Burn Slow isn't the most original or exciting work. But it's a thoughtful and personal album that allows Liebing to move beyond his techno reputation with grace.

The melodies have their usual childlike playfulness, but not the haunting quality that's lent them so much mystery and depth in the past.

Overall, little of This Behavior has the mystery or subtlety of touch suggested by the gloved magician's hands on the cover. Rather, this is ADULT. showing their iron fist, and not every punch lands.

Ψ cleverly returns to the skewed body music on patten's first album, which nearly offsets the tangle of blurred gestures and garbled theorizing.

There are few surprises here, but much of it is enjoyable.

As things stand, there's a sense that somewhere along the line Nordström lost the capacity to self-edit. ... Nordström is mad for attempting this project, but even in partial failure Dusk To Dawn is among the more ambitious dance albums ever dreamt up.

With enough listens, you'll even catch yourself humming its melodies, but the ideas come close to feeling generic.

Fabriclive 100 is without a doubt an inspired effort, an ambitious and highly creative attempt at capturing its selectors' musical lineage. But it's also a bit of a mess. It feels like the wild second-to-last draft of a creative project.

& is essentially a compilation of disparate tracks. There are a few good moments, enough decent efforts and some failures.

As nice and welcoming as Getting Closer is, it'll never challenge you.

Even with an album's worth of new material, there's something missing here; the format might be Herculean in scale, but Craig's efforts don't match up.

It's a wild, theatrical and, at times, bloated ride.

Like most Caribou albums, Our Love is a grower.

Magazine 13 doesn't feel like a coherent album so much as a more open-ended platform for the same thing we get on his 12-inches.

For sure, Animal Collective still have plenty of whimsical creativity left in them, but on Painting With they mostly color inside the lines.

While a clearing of the cobwebs is liberating for the artist, the resulting record is a tough sell for its audience, even one as dedicated as Vladislav Delay's. Rakka could be a step towards something great. But too often, getting through it is like walking with a stone in your shoe.

ESTOILE NAIANT is perfectly pleasant while it’s playing, but you might not remember it so well afterwards.

What she's lost in subtlety she's gained in star power, off the back of two years of touring and a slow-burning hit album.

Food might sound pretty, but it's weaker than the sum of its parts.

Copeland is an accomplished collage artist adept at combining the highbrow and the trashy, but when the individual bits are laid out on their own they can seem a bit throwaway.

Born In The Echoes follows the duo's formula of saving the more psychedelic tracks for the end.

Considering the odds, it shows an animated and still vigorous trio worthy of its semi-legendary status.

Though not without its charms, the floundering moments of Crash suggests that Charli XCX may be most comfortable making subversive music.

His fans might find this fascinating. For anyone else, there are better entry points into Jonson's catalogue.

It's an unadventurous but pleasant effort from a talented artist who used to make everyone else look boring.

Coming from a producer who habitually finds new ways to dazzle, Pearson Sound is uncharacteristically average.

Beyoncé is clearly itching to experiment with her sound. This latest album may not be her most cohesive release, but it does come with a handful of well-executed surprises. ... The album falls flat when it tries too hard to immerse itself in a culture that does not belong to Beyoncé.

While Orbits is a tighter record, its joints are still too weak to hold it all up.

Brandt Brauer Frick's contribution to the series, while not a classic, is still a little treasure trove.

These songs still aim to elicit an emotion from you, and they're still not particularly subtle. The difference is you don't feel like it's being shoved down your throat.

Feel It Break feels a bit front-loaded: its second half sags a bit with more ballad-oriented material, but closes on a strong note with "The Beast."

It never fully sounds laid back, as if the producer is unwilling to let his sounds run as rampant or give into the funk quite like his Californian counterparts.

Pagan is a singular vision. There's plenty to enjoy--no individual track is a misstep. But consumed as whole, Pagan goes from sugary pop to sickly sweet, and is ultimately unsatisfying.

Perhaps most frustratingly, Scintilli doesn't have as much of a sense of continuum as the aforementioned trilogy--which is something that any good album should have.

The album is overproduced and polished to a fault, often vague and uninteresting. It's the defining characteristic of Become Alive. The individual performances are undeniably full of flavor and complexity, but put together they can overwhelm.

Factory Floor's aesthetic is rarely comforting, and yet their new music settles into itself as it revisits old habits.

Their tenth LP, For That Beautiful Feeling, returns to their well-established formula once again, at times surging with renewed ambition and other times falling curiously flat.

Sometimes producers catch a wave, sometimes they wipe out. But this theory is quickly rubbished by Hauff's own back catalogue. She's released consistent albums and EPs that said a lot with a little. Qualm achieves the same, but only in moments.

The Curved Line is a pretty harmless, quirky listen, and enjoyable enough if you've got a bit of a sweet tooth.

The Predicting Machine sounds more like a homage to various styles, from the naive, exploratory ambient works of Radioactivity-era Kraftwerk ("Radio Channel"), to the whimsical homespun techno of label-mate Superpitcher ("Orbiter").

Tropics' debut album stands its ground as a promising start for an artist still figuring out exactly what he wants to say.

It's unclear if Elements of Light represents an evolutionary mark for the producer or a one-off exercise inspired by a summer's day in Oslo, but as an effort at minimalism, it's a modest success at best.

Despite its shortcomings, Howl is a fine album for those interested in analog electronics and curious what can be done with them outside of a club environment.

There's the occasional hint of another, more vivid album.... Elsewhere they often seem all too separate, like combatants squaring off in a strange, airless room.

Though it's often lost in the overwrought emotions of Dva, her gift for sound remains even when she overshoots the mark.

There's a near-perfect EP buried in here somewhere, and an inventive musical personality waiting to burst out, but Moiré's debut album does a better job of showcasing his potential than realizing it.

So while Cold Spring is in many ways a massive leap forward for Mount Kimbie, it's also the sort of transitional album you might expect from a group with a knockout debut.

Movement, then, is more a proof of concept than a fully fleshed-out thought, though Herndon brings enough passion to her sound to suggest one is coming.

Too much of the album feels restrained, unable to truly revel in the bliss of melody.

Though far from the full-on dance album Yorke's DJ gigs and 50 Weapons single had presaged, Amok does feel like a collection of tracks, not songs.

Wraetlic has the lingering feeling of prematurity, offering snatches of brilliance too easily snuffed out by its own tendency to hide its features in the dark.

The music sometimes suggests inventive new directions, but the strange, tonal weirdness of the vocals doesn't always sit right, and ends up sucking out the individuality from Pharrell and Kendrick Lamar alike.

Homogenous and slightly predictable, Panorama Bar 05 is not Steffi at her most adventurous.

Overstuffed with ideas, some of Magic Oneohtrix Point Never's odd juxtapositions and clever references feel merely "neat." You don't get the sense Lopatin's deeply invested—more that he's throwing concepts at the wall and seeing what sticks. There are stunning moments on Magic Oneohtrix Point Never.

Starfire won't get stuck in your head for days, but you could spend weeks unpacking it and still never quite get to the bottom of it.

A solid diversion from two artists who we know can do better.

If The Phoenix is that feature film we were waiting for, it could stand an edit or two.

Audio, Video, Disco may not be as clever and as original as Justice think it is, but it definitely isn't as terrible as everyone else would want you to believe.