At 16 songs and with impressive guest features, it's a sprawling portrait of James, one with mostly dark and subdued tones.

It's an album that sounds less extreme than it has any right to, inspiring a cold and technical appreciation for Lopatin's craftsmanship, but not necessarily excitement.

Some of the most affecting ambient music of the year, and perhaps even the very best in Halo's rich, unpredictable catalogue.

If only Tension lived up to the promise that she might be given something different. As it is, though, it's another entry in a rock-solid catalogue of dependable, uplifting club pop.

With its unabashed focus on large, universal emotions softened by the weight of adult experience, softscars is a beautiful blast from the past, made brighter with its emotionally timeless themes and crunchy rock aesthetics.

It's another sharp turn in the road on the winding journey of a creative nomad.

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.

Playing Robots Into Heaven pitches itself right in the middle, swallowing up Blake's wounded reveries in a tide of dance floor-friendly inspiration. It's the most vital he's sounded in years.

trip9love...??? is easily one of the greatest accomplishments in the small but impressive Tirzah catalogue.

Eyeroll is Ziúr's most punk record to date, planting her proudly on the fringes where she's happiest.

Instead of attempting to reinvent the wheel, he refines and extends his legacy, preserving the familiar while hearkening back to the uncanny moods that shroud his best ambient-leaning works.

Backed by a cast of co-producers like Pearson Sound, Tensnake and Paul White, she expands her sound to fit these more bracing topics, without losing the DIY charm that made her an instant star to begin with.

Huge credit is due to Audika: while Picture Of Bunny Rabbit is an archival compilation built from disparate sources, it feels like the kind of asymmetrical, twisty little solo album Russell would have made himself, not just a bonus disc.

It once again proves Barbieri to be a singular talent in the realm of synthesizer music, creating enormous, intimidating, completely enveloping work.

The spirit of those dance floors lives on through this second volume of the Legacy series.

Further Out Than The Edge's vibrant cast of characters, lively experimental rhythms and rich improvisation underlines why Speakers Corner Quartet are so firmly embedded within South London's musical landscape.

There's so much clarity and hope to be found in Jayda G's marriage of production with songwriting that any cloying moments are easily forgiven.

Even in the depths of despair she still managed to turn out something that feels lush and enticing. DREAMER is one of those albums people revisit for all kinds of reasons, whether they're sitting drinking wine with friends or out on a walk in need of a good cry.

I Hope You Can Forgive Me, ten songs under a half hour that move quickly but stay with you long after, is a full-fledged real-time resume that demonstrates how complex rhythms and careful arrangements can elevate the human voice to the ultimate instrument.

Secret Life is undeniably gorgeous. But it's a mainstream, you-know-how-this-ends kind of gorgeous, like a Hollywood remake of some European arthouse film. ... It's difficult to be mad at Secret Life. But the bigger problem is that it's hard to feel anything at all.

For the most part, though, their method bears fruit, yielding an irresistibly catchy pop record that holds true to its humble Welsh roots.

Tightening up the chaos that blighted his sophomore record, The Rat Road doubles down on SBTRKT's multi-genre vision and pulls it off slightly better. His cocktail of pop and underground influences sounds more decisive and refined, though there are still moments that fizzle rather than ignite.

Emerson's decision to duck out of dance music and resurface as an indie-electronica artist for her long-awaited debut album feels like a risk, but in its well-worn and world-weary approach to songwriting, it's also deeply familiar, almost comforting.

But what comes off at first as blistering and self-deprecating actually reveals her deep reverence and respect for her own complexity.

Whatever you want and could ever require from the progressive soul textbook is up in here. Darts, slaps, bops and most definitely thumpers. ... Renders a greater reward than we could ever envision. Voice Notes gives us just that.

The complexities of No Highs are masked by its minimalism. Hecker pairs expansive and bright songs with more repetitive compositions, capturing the beauty in uneasiness and vice versa, and keeping the album from blurring into an ambient haze.

It traces Yaeji's emotional development, coming to terms with anger and resentment she had suppressed as a child—a period that she channels into her charged and surprisingly bracing new LP.

It's meant to be experienced in one fell swoop. Once the record works its magic on you, it'll be hard to pull out a single moment.