Take Off Mode doesn’t forge any new paths so much as it retreads old ones. ... That said, Take Off Mode’s most retro moment is also its best.

His LNT is a soothing, calming mix for music lovers and night owls, with a human touch that’s impossible to replicate.

hat’s most striking is that the album really does tell a story. Its glorious conclusion arrives a little too soon, but it’s good enough to have you hitting rewind. Listen in a dark room, on headphones, and you’re likely to experience a few hairs-on-end moments. It’s ugly, yes, and sometimes contrived. But it’s beautiful too.

There are some songs which start off tepid, become lukewarm, and emit flickers of Blake’s usual brilliance. ... hile it's easy to criticise Blake’s chart-pandering forays into trap and pop, it is actually Assume Form’s most unashamed pop songs that rescue it from insufferable drabness.

Yorke’s job here is to maximise the impact of the film through sound, something he does masterfully whenever employed. ... The film itself may have done some harm to Guadagnino’s reputation as a defining director of this era. The soundtrack, however, will do no damage to Yorke’s credentials as a composer.

Everything from the album’s sharp, shimmering opulence (its cover could be a still from Annihilation) to its thematic interactions between machine and being align it with Garland’s apocalyptic work. Objekt--whether artist, producer or mad professor--is on top of his game, and his latest creation is as beautiful as it is powerful.

The album might not have quite enough Flying Lotus for some, and a little too much Aloe Blacc for others, but it has just enough Georgia Anne Muldrow to be another worthy entry into the catalog of a truly gifted musician.

The speedy segue between Jungle Buddha’s raucous DnB cut “Drug Me” and Black Acid’s eponymous 303 track is the pick of the early exchanges, but it feels rushed and airless--deeply contrasting with Burial’s trademark spacey sound-chasms. ... [OKZharp & Manthe Ribane’s “Treasure Erasure”] arrives during a decent section that also includes the more gentle timbres of Ben Frost (remixed by Jlin) and Proc Fiskal (also on Hyperdub); these are nice, but are separated by the squeaky rudeboy MCing of Dean Blunt’s Babyfather alter-ego, another bizarrely jarring selection. ... FabricLive 100 feels hurried, uncomfortable, and impossible to feel truly at peace in.

With the lyrical talent she shows in places here, the more Noname challenges herself--the deeper she delves into her own mind--the more fascinating, stimulating, and thought-provoking her music will become.

Although beatless, it is not altogether one of those ambient albums you could play in the background and ignore, nor necessarily fall asleep listening to. At times unsettling and industrial-sounding, this is far from forgettable music; it is engaging, futuristic, and trippy as hell.

Upon first listen, this album will disappoint those searching for the clever and inventive dancefloor tracks for which Vynehall has become most loved. There isn’t actually anything here which could be recognized as house music. ... Once you do get over it--and it may take several listens--Nothing Is Still is an intriguing engagement with an ambitious artist clearly still in development.

A record notable not only for its considerable length (16 tracks) but its sense of cohesion and staggering brilliance.

DNA Feelings has moments of brilliance, but its dark mood and single-minded vision become oppressive over the course of its runtime. Those fleeting rave touches combine so well with her extraordinary voice, you can only wish there were more of them.

At times the record is hypnotic and yet mesmerizing with its abstract sound quirks. Heartfelt and authentic, each listen brings something new.

Although it's possible to pick out this individual highlight, it’s when you take in the record in one sitting--with its subtle shifts of mood, highs, and lows--that you arrive on the other side mentally revived.

These songs, as subtle and delicate as they are, are vivid and transporting. It’s a fully-formed album, whatever its intent, and full of quiet passion.

Not only does this stand out as one of Paradinas' best albums to date, but also as one of IDM's.

He showcases the breadth of footwork and pushes the sound forward by building links with trap, R&B, and Jersey. In doing so, he reinvigorates footwork and brings it up to date with 2018 dance culture.

That Le Kov is so loaded with meaning and significance adds to its appeal, but ultimately it’s the emotion and sound of the songs that make it such a wonderful and unusual record.

On reflection, Glass exemplifies what a beautifully mysterious form ambient improvisation can be.

Nothing feels forced or amplified for impact. It’s a humble and understated sound and one that endears me to her as a human. The tracks and the overall narrative are succinct, though I wished the trip was longer. When the album finished I was compelled to play it through again.

As a record, Con Todo El Mundo won’t change the world, but it will make your day brighter. Once you’ve maxed out playing records by The Budos Band and Bonobo, then Khruangbin should be next in your selection.

With All Melody, Nils Frahm has retained his unique approach and emotional sensitivity. He’s also expanded his sound, and shown more of his soul than ever before. It’s a record to be treasured.

For Paris has an avant-gardist taste, and the homemade artwork and written statements ring sincere.

Weighing of the Heart is, to me, an unripe album. The recording is slick and the mix is by the guy who mixed the last Gorillaz album, but I just don’t feel any outstanding music-making talent or skill. I see a marketable product.

Arpo feels like a real album, with a distinct narrative and recurring themes. Most of all, it’s a captivating and original listen, from an artist who sounds like no one else.

Desecration of Desire is still built on everything that Dave Clarke has created to date, but the hardness is gone; and if you look close enough, you might be able to find the soft exterior he’s trying to show.

There’s a widescreen vibe to these tracks; with their patient, sometimes nearly imperceptible cycles of accretion and subsidence, they feel as much like landscapes as they do music. But they’re vistas that have been internalized and made personal, and that process--along with the calm majesty of the songs--is the source of Phantom Brickworks emotional sweep.