Whether he's rapping about stripping copper out of abandoned houses or addiction, Brown manages to wring humor and, somehow, relatability out of grim personal stories.

At 43 minutes long, Human Energy is so dizzy and quick that it's hard to find your bearings. It makes for a fun, if exhausting, ride.

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

Sirens is his best record because it's both his most straightforward and most experimental, his densest and lightest.

"Closed Circuit" stands out on Sunergy for its restraint and musicality. Smith and Ciani riff around a melodic figure with a percussive edge, filling the space around the light-footed pattern with delicate, free-flowing harmonic color.

Trim definitely isn't stuck on stupid, but a bit more self-awareness wouldn't go amiss.

There's a dreamlike logic to much of Care: it's atmospheric, but it doesn't make sense.

Open Your Eyes has a confidently evolved sound.

Phoenixxx is pure violence, with seemingly incidental moments of calm.

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

The album imagines pop as computer-generated architecture: vivid, plastic and physics-defying.

Callus is the sound of someone exorcising their demons with nothing but a few pieces of gear and his own snarling weapon of a voice--and growing stronger for it.

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

Many of the tracks on Hangin' At The Beach, much like Pink's low-key classic "Life In LA," grapple with the paradox of feeling lonely and alienated in paradise. Perlman's able to evoke these ideas without lyrics, using a casual, collagist approach to create his most profound work to date.

He's essentially building sonic environments, the kind a listener can enter and explore. That experience is less about the details than the journey, which Gengras carves out with the skill of a seasoned designer.

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.

Whatever's at the heart of these sonic fictions, it drove Crampton to reach for new audio possibilities, not for the sake of novelty but to keep pace with the futurity of her visions. It sets the album apart from other pieces of audio collage because it's not sound design for sound design's sake: it's what's required to bring the drama to life.

Four hours of dense, bewildering and occasionally fun electronic music, elseq 1-5 is a logical next step into the unknown for two pioneers.

The second Floorplan album feels triumphant enough to bear the title Victorious. It's a stellar follow-up to Paradise.

When it comes to grime producers, there are two kinds: those who simply make music and those who act as creative directors, getting involved with collaborators, arrangements and often more. Judging from the unevenness of Disaster Piece, he needs both.

As with all of Copeland's records, surprising angles and intriguing touches are strewn throughout. But this is also an incredibly fun record, which is enough reason to play it over and over.

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.

What's most disheartening about 32 Levels is how it floats by anonymously for 37 wishy-washy minutes, which is especially hard to take from a producer whose tracks used to command your attention.

DJ-Kicks isn't the best mix Jackmaster's ever done, largely because his taste in new house and techno is less convincing than what's in his record collection at home. There are, however, flashes of brilliance that confirm his status as one of the most skilful and thrilling DJs working today.

This album tells a deeper story that only grows more vibrant with every listen.

The record hews especially close to a strain of plush acid, albeit with Aphex Twin's inimitable charm. But a short change of pace arrives from the dissonant "CHEETA1b ms800" and "CHEETA2 ms800," which seem to be brief tests of rich, textured patches from the Cheetah. These tracks complete a record that finds inspiration and style from obstacles and restrictions.

Even if Graef and Astro don't seem to be headed anywhere in particular, it's still fun to hitch a hot-boxed ride with them.

With just a few more jolts, a few more unexpected twists and turns, Coolen and Scholte would have had something truly special on their hands. But even without them, Weval is a hushed delight.

Where Mala In Cuba boiled, Mirrors barely gets to a simmer.

Some of Davis's early records still sound exciting because of the raw talent and vision behind them, and because of the way he stitched together the threads of old songs into captivating new ones. Now, his music sounds bland, as if it was designed for chillout compilations or cocktail lounges.

Fool is the product of a powerful imagination, the kind of mind that's unburdened by assumptions and orthodoxies.

As a whole, the music is warm and pleasant, even occasionally gorgeous, but it feels a bit bloodless.

As far as home-listening goes, Alpha is too inflexible to give a dynamic front-to-back experience. But that's not surprising: Alpha was made with DJs in mind. And on that level, the music has plenty to offer.

For Those Of You stands apart as a significant step up in Leeds' journey to carve out and master his own musical form.

Good pop is often pliable, its message broad or ambiguous enough for listeners to flex it to their taste. Political pop can be like this without compromising its message, but most of Hopelessness has no interest in pliability. It regards its audience as either fervent believers in Anohni's cause or a pop mass in need of blunt polemic.

The atmosphere is so consistent, the pacing so uniform, the sounds created with such a defined set of instrumental sources, that all the pieces blur into one.

So short and concentrated, the album feels like a style exercise rather than a major work, but it nonetheless finds Cutler refining his skills and presenting the best version of his 1992-via-2020 approach yet.

It's more about repetition than surprise, meditation than hyperactivity. Many tracks start slowly and quietly, and some hold entirely to that restraint.

2013's Half Of Where You Live was largely built around recordings made while traveling the world, including Japan, so what's unique about Good Luck is how it sounds less like a specific place than a flurry of memories made there.

That final third of DJ-Kicks might not be its strongest section but it no less feels like the most emblematic of Riddick's timeless appeal--connecting funk's past, present and future with an unbreakable thread of authenticity and positivity.

Elasticity rewards repeat listens from start to finish.

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.

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.

Most of The Triad lacks darkness or tension, which results in a lack of depth and contrast.

Where his best music was like reading pages from a diary, Rojus can feel like a passionate retelling of memories that were never his.

Under The Sun isn't the major departure that it seems on the surface, but rather a pleasant detour through mythical, imagined landscapes.

For a debut album from such a young artist, 99.9% is remarkably self-assured. It sets up Celestin as someone carving out his niche.

Oh No is an inventive and enjoyable pop record that only falls short of Lanza's own standards.

Yoyogi Park is at its best on the tracks where Kersten wanders out of his comfort zone.

Konnichiwa isn't perfect, but it mostly accomplishes the goals Skepta set for himself, and is certainly one of the best grime has seen so far.

The permanent ache in Blake's voice is one of his most arresting qualities, but it grows tiresome as The Colour In Anything wades through its 76 minutes.

Following shaky albums from both Yorke and Radiohead, A Moon Shaped Pool suggests that they were right to keep the faith.

For a project of its size and vision, Vol. 1 is remarkably coherent. It's a testament to the label's endurance and vitality that they assembled so many top-notch exclusive tracks from friends both old and new.

On the self-produced Will, there's an extraordinary confidence behind Barwick's voice and arrangements.

The Ship, his sixth Warp record in seven years, entwines various threads from these albums [Small Craft On A Milk Sea, Lux, and Highlife] into a heady amalgam that stands as his best work for the label to date.

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.

I AKA I moves from peak to peak, and you're never more than a couple of tracks away from open-mouthed awe.

Honey lacks the coherence of her previous albums, but as a love letter to the rave it's eloquent and sincere.

With a relatively small number of building blocks, Acre has built an album that feels varied, showcases a range of emotion and, most importantly, feels whole.

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.

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

As the realised aspirations of Myson's inner-teen, Hollowed is startlingly articulate and mature.

Stott's latest marks a new stage on this journey into the pop unknown, but it feels like he's not quite there yet.

Petrol finds the artist coming into his own, interpreting his life experience into sublime electro-acoustic music.

These short tracks hint at the more compact and engaging album #N/A could've been. But on "#2," the collaborators show they can also pull off long-form.

On EARS, Smith emerges as a novel, naturalistic and, yes, pop-savvy voice wielding an instrument known for esoteric experimentalism.

Potential is largely a wonderful collection of uplifting and humbling electronic pop.

Trendy as Silver's interests may have become, On Vacation feels no less personal and awe-inspiring in its stillness.

Where McRyhew's first full-length approached footwork with playful individualism, this record favours freeform acid and techno structures.

The Last Panthers goes further, illustrating a picture of its own.

Unrestrained emotion is ultimately III's defining attribute, and that richness can be too much to bear.

In Hecker's uncanny knack for blending noise and ineffable sound together, he makes for a turbulent sonic trip that ultimately feels redemptive.

Tthe album as a whole is a step forward for Blunt. Though the music isn't his most gripping, he's never achieved such a powerful synthesis of sound, concept and character.

Defined by repetition and mesmerizing as ever, The Follower isn't a huge stretch for Willner. Its best moments are in the second half, when the music revels in ethereality.

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.

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.

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.

The sheer density of his music is its most interesting quality, but also a weakness. Like the panicked crowds filling the streets in your favourite disaster movie, Stringer's tracks run in a hundred directions at once and ultimately get nowhere.

After working together on and off for years, this trio obviously have a special connection, but it's only apparent in fits and spurts.

Whatever Loop The Loop's flaws, Jenkins has definitely found his C, and he's justifiably pleased about it.

This is all standard Matmos; nothing here upsets their musical applecart. But the washing machine conceit gives their sample trickery a dramatic edge. It sometimes feels like we're descending deep into the innards of the machine.

Brute's most interesting flourishes are all surface-level. Take them away and you're left with Al Qadiri reusing the same musical ideas.

On first pass, A Minor Thought might sound like another Smallville record with all the expected tropes; listen more carefully and you'll hear a world of subtle tweaks and improvements. It's a beautiful illustration of the label's sound, a warm and welcoming style of house where predictability is a strength instead of a weakness.

You can spot similarities and name-check influences throughout, but Principe Del Norte still stands as Hermansen's most distinctive and satisfying record to date.

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.

Those few powerful moments [on Boy] are the exception rather than the norm. Their rawness is an essential element that could have lent Skilled Mechanics the sort of organic, internalized anxiety that once defined Tricky.

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

It may have taken him a long time to release a mix in this way, but the quality of DJ-Kicks makes it worth the wait. At 30 selections, the tracklist is remarkably long, but nothing feels rushed.

As a survey of Africa's influence on contemporary dance music, Basar is an inspiring document. As an album, it's every bit as good.

Their electronic music brims with heartfelt emotions that anyone could understand.

Casual and understated as ever, Greenspan and Didemus seemed to be making a point: Big Black Coat isn't the triumphant return of Junior Boys, it's just the next chapter in an ongoing story.

The duo's linear arrangements could keep a dance floor chuntering along, but they make for clunky pop songs.

The twists and turns can be compelling, but they make The Catastrophist feel somewhat lopsided, with scattered ideas too disparate to congeal as a cohesive listen.

Third Law trades emotion for physical power and presence. Porter has figured out how to channel the aggression of his early material into the maturity and otherworldliness of his solo work, and it's as breathtaking as it is bruising.

Live manipulation gives In Situ its textures, as Halo hardly lets a few bars go by without tweaking rhythmic elements, introducing new sonics or briefly leaning on an effect. The movements are unpredictable but never distracting or overwhelming.

Smith never went away exactly, but Bleeds feels like as storming comeback.

At times this cute-and-cuddly record lacks a bit of dirt under its fingernails. But when the stars align, Lee hits on a pristine emotional pitch so honest and open it's impossible to resist.