As expected, the Norwich-based producer's first full-length culls together another mass of genres, this time with the fresh additions of footwork and UK funky flavours.

Kompakt's recent box set for Voigt's Gas project is arguably the ne plus ultra of emotionally resonant ambient music from the past two decades. Its influence looms over Pop Ambient 2017, but this music can nonetheless be its own soundtrack for daydreaming. On that level, the series continues to be worthwhile, but if its reach was just a little wider, it could be even more.

Overwhelming as Delphi's mood swings can be, they're worth putting up with. Douglas's production is full of elaborate ideas and strange tricks, even if it sometimes feels cheesy or overwrought.

Absorbing a Squarepusher LP in one sitting has always been for more adventurous or diligent listeners, but the dank final section means that, outside of more hardcore fans, Be Up A Hello will probably need to be navigated in exactly the right sort of mood.

Early Riser recalls '70s LPs by the likes of Herbie Hancock--with whom McFerrin Sr. collaborated--and actually evokes the process of remembering, insomuch as it's full of teasing hints and hazy feelings that ebb and flow throughout.

This is machine music for a machine-ruled future made by someone who truly loves machines.

Essential isn't as essential as its title suggests, but don't let that stop you from seeking it out. It has more of the loveable chaos that once made Soulwax among the most important acts in electronic music. This time it's more controlled.

A singularly impressive work.

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.

This is a record of great technical skill and imagination, and one that's also nonetheless soulful and sincere.

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.

hej! is one of PC Music's most well-rounded records yet.

Oft-delayed, long-overdue, but quietly, subtly worth the wait.

Under The Same Sky might not be the most original or ambitious album you will hear this year, but it's arresting, it moves quickly and it never looks back.

Both tracks [Love In The Time Of Lexapro and Last Known Image Of A Song], though, are dreamscapes of ineffable yearning. The EP's other cuts feel almost like a letdown, though only by degrees.

The haunting chorus and zither strings of "Cry Winds Or Flames," the distorted, swampy drama of "Enter Venus" and the propulsive "The Water Sibyl" all offset the LP's drowsy qualities. Perhaps most crucially, Calypso also feels personal.

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.

By drawing energy from Garcia’s abundant source, these remixers try to answer those questions in their own respective sonic languages, offering intriguing answers and new ways to hear Garcia's potent energy.

Hye Jin refines her sound, pulling from trap and boom-bap, not to mention dubstep and techno, to turn out a coming of age hip-house album. Before I Die is the clearest artistic vision we've heard from Hye Jin.

Sadly, tracks like "Years Ago, Days Pass" or "Wired"--even with their intricate array of digital ornaments--remain badly in need of a proper tune; album closer "Nights," on the other hand, simply comes across as an anemic piano-led ballad: clocking in at seven minutes, it easily outstays its welcome and ends the album on a lukewarm note.

From the way the melodies climb through the hanging atmosphere of "Ripples" to the Sasha-like glitter of "Cloud Refuge," Swirlings is full of lovely, considered music that sticks in your mind long after the synth fog dissipates.

While Songs Of Silence succeeds as a rich and intriguing drone album then, it won't satisfy those hoping to learn more about one of British pop's great enigmas.

But even if it isn't brilliant all the way through, Belief System is still an achievement. 12 of its tracks are as electrifying and giddy as you'll hear all year.

Mala in Cuba is a statement of consummate mastery-of a form, of a tempo, of a set of tools-shaped by the implacable creative imagination of one of the finest producers of his generation.

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

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

Hive Mind, follows in the vein of "Ital's Theme" by focusing on warm, softly throbbing textural slides over insistent 4/4 rhythms to forge a kind of day-drifted vagabond music akin to the work of acts like Blondes or The Miracles Club.

It's almost too easy to become completely enamoured with the very sounds it's employing, rather than the mood it's ostensibly trying to convey.

The LP's initial tranquility gives way to a perkier second half, transitioning from sugar-dusted melodies to a fusion sound that feels more live.

Lazer Sword's somewhat gloomy sophomore album does still represent a largely enjoyable body of work that packs in plenty of well-executed ideas.

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.

Murmurations is as rewarding for the listener as it must've been for the artists.

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.

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.

Though his abilities with oddball party jams are unquestionable, Davis proves he can be equally compelling when he tones it down a notch.

There's a fine line drawn between pastiche and surefire songwriting, and the group straddle it deftly.

It's a total weirdo crossover success, and perhaps Bahdeni Nami's standout if club fodder is what you're after.

It's not about to break any new ground, but her attractively elegant mixture of dream pop, post-punk and luxurious atmospherics are a hard combination to resist.

Coles has a way of making her tracks sound massive and intimate at the same time, using reverb in a way that evokes both the expanse of an arena and the introspection of a bedroom.... Comfort has enough of these moments to remind us of her casual brilliance, but not enough to make it the complete knockout it could be.

It's a testament to his stature as a leading purveyor of experimental electronics that the results of those pursuits, as seen once again on Kilo, are reliably unpredictable.

Pangaea Ultima is equally rewarding to those who dive in and devour every minuscule detail as it is to those who listen more passively.

Much like switching on a 24-hour news channel, No No is engrossing for the first ten minutes or so. Then the parade of lurid images continues, and sure enough, they give you a headache.

The result is a thrilling meditation on the weirdness of now.

For the most part, Vibert's approach to drum & bass still sounds unique, although there are some signs that this was produced in the '90s if you're looking for them.

For all the dub diehards, Late Night Endless is a must-have. For the rest, it's a leisurely detour in the catalogues of two great artists who proved themselves a long time ago.

It might be dismissed as dinner party music by those with a hunger for more experimental fare, but The North Borders is charming, fascinating and a touch mysterious.

MHYSA gets most expressive with her vocal processing, sometimes rapping in hot bursts, sometimes creating soft and surreal textures, other times using abrasive distortion and noise. When beats do appear, they're patient and sparse, highlighting the artist's contentment with silence.

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.

In composing a piece so well-defined yet so adaptable, Eno adds yet another page to ambient music canon.

What's remarkable about the LP is that most of its 11 artists--whether newcomers, collaborators or longtime fans--all make tracks that sound like natural extensions of the originals.

The truly ambient moments of Living With Ghosts are easily its most arresting, providing brief periods of respite amid the album's unrelenting greyscale grasp.

Ambiguities can make Olympic Mess's charms difficult to excavate, but it's well worth making the effort to do so.

Glass isn't a concept album, though, nor does it need to be. Music this impressive is a statement in and of itself.

This new LP is understated by comparison, with fewer jarring moments and more shifting grooves.

The Centre Cannot Hold is about flux, about the flow of change through cycles of destruction and serenity. It's a more hopeful record than you might think.

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

Lafawndah's stripped-down approach invites us to sit in these new environments, culminating in an album that feels as thoroughly absorbing as a good novel.

There are no new tricks at hand here, no experimental forays into the goonier psych-prog ends of the space disco genre. And you know what? Thank f*** for that.

There isn't a track on the record that isn't somehow scuffed, bruised or degraded. The recording fidelity is uniformly scruffy but not at the expense of dance floor efficacy—you'll have punchier music in your collection, but these tracks should still cut through.

Its tackiness has transformed over time into a thing of beauty. A perfect reflection of the flora in your life, Mother Earth's Plantasia is garish, green and hopelessly sincere. It never fails to put a smile on your face or pull the sunshine into every room.

Brimming with standalones ... but it sometimes feel[s] more like a collection of songs than a singularly-minded and cohesive album.

Atonal but definitely not without its charms, it's the producer's most distinctive statement yet.

A graceful continuation of her catalogue, Air Lows has an alluringly frosty charm.

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

Gamble successfully deploys his robotic collaborators as tools in his sonic worldbuilding rather than as ends in themselves.

The Killer seems to reveal a pattern on Pawlowitz's part, yet it somehow remains every bit as viscerally captivating as his best material, a formula still as cryptic as it ever was.

The end result sounds like a shameful karaoke. Nonetheless, fans of Miss Kittin should still give Calling From The Stars a go, as it remains her most accomplished solo release to date.

Beneath its stylish veneer, Unspell lacks substance.

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

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

Seven Steps Behind is too unfocused to be a slam dunk, but there's potential for something truly new here. In an era where club classics in the concert hall have lost their novelty, it's thrilling to hear orchestral instruments twisted like this.

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."

Endgame excels when its structures are more orthodox.

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

Pop Ambient 2014 is the fluffiest, most cushioned set of zone-outs in the series' recent history.

Most tracks have so much going on that it begins to feel like tectonic plates pulling in opposite directions, heaving two ways at once and leaving the listener dizzy and disoriented. It's Ryat's crystal clear, wriggling voice that's the glue just barely holding everything together.

The album has a swampy, overheated feel, which takes some of the impact away from its sharper moments but enhances its more languid stretches.

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.

Mouse On Mars now occasionally sounds like a hybrid of other artists rather than a unique entity.

Ultimately, Rustie's purism exposes the limitations of his style.

This is not Jaar's best album, nor is it his strangest, but it's a wonderful listen that tempts you to get lost in its many layers. It is beautiful but confounding, an artwork whose "solid form" still passes through like water trickling down between your fingers.

At almost 70 minutes, Where All Is Fled may take a few unnecessary detours across its 14 tracks, but it's ultimately Hauschildt's most cohesive work. Here, he's matched his well-established talents as a composer of cosmic ambient with a new depth of artistic direction.

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.

There isn't a bad track on Black Boulder and it is certainly an accessible crossover release that's suited to the long-player format. But it's not very original either.

Ikonika has delivered one of 2013's definitive summer albums. It's time to get happy.

Patten is clearly willing to toy with his numerous ideas in lieu of easy hooks, and he concedes remarkably little here.

Product is simply forward-thinking, flawlessly-produced electronic music that wants no more than to slap a grin on the dance floor.

Shackled to the piano, the album's range can feel a bit limited. It's worth sticking it out, though, if only for the moments when Gold's grand vision finally comes together.

Ancestor Boy's world is one of filial love, of kinship through blood or spirit, of otherness and self-reliance.

Without knowing it was made by a young Paul Woolfword, it might come off simply as passionate and touching hardware sketches with classic techno components. Nevertheless, these tapes show signs of promise in Woolford's ability to work within his limitations to create something powerful and personal.

Lyrically, 7 Days Of Funk offers little to muse on. Snoop's mainly concerned with discussing how funky he is and what a good time he's having. It's largely free of the misogyny and gangsterisms that have defined his past work.

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.

The result is a set of tracks that, compared to the prickly, experimental music of Shaking The Habitual, are purposeful, propulsive and emotionally direct.

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

Much like its musical parent, Without You effortlessly inhales and exhales strands of musical influence past, present and future.

The Shakes is worth hearing for the sonic detail alone. The best tracks have an inclusive, sweeping abandon that rivals the high points of Scale.

Ultimately, Reachy Prints is a bravura performance that lacks bite.