When a dance album cannot contain a grander narrative, the next best result is certainly a selection of floor-primed productions, and on this front, Orbiting delivers.

While it's engaging, tantalizing and consistently interesting, it tests the listener by wading through a foliage of field recordings and mouth harps to get to its core, requiring an effort which can potentially get wearying at times.

Call it whatever you want-Barnett and his bandmates are just getting started with their musical experiments.

While Power exhibits his range in mood and melody on this self-titled debut, one can't help but wonder how much the album could have benefited from even the smallest touch of the rhythms that give his other outfit its vibrant energy.

As it is now, John Wizards is an effortlessly fun, pan-global pop record that stands on its own, no qualification needed.

Some lo-fi purists will undoubtedly cry foul when they hear "The Longest Shadows" or "When It Comes," which bookend the album with slightly glossier production and an '80s goth-disco vibe that recalls Siouxsie and The Banshees or The Church. These tracks, along with "On Giving Up" and "Constant Winter," undeniably signal High Places' shift toward a more accessible sound, but they also happen to be some of the brightest spots on the album.

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.

All in all, the full 30 minutes of Kuiper seems logical as a comfortable extension of, and compromise between, Shepherd's recent discography: as he continues to unravel the additional possibilities of live instrumentalism, we can be sure to expect plenty more of the same.

Field-Pickering isn't yet the type to release a grand album statement, but so far, his best moments have been the monolithic ones. Now, it's just a matter of amassing enough of them for a long-player.

It takes a few notable risks in composition and rhythmic style, but as is evident from the title, this isn't the new Machinedrum album.

III is a pleasant--although occasionally forgettable--listen from a seasoned artist who is playing to his strengths.

The pair has also hit on what makes the bass-music hybrid so alluring; by connecting the dots between various club-music genres, Nguzunguzu continues to invite more people of different tastes to share in the experience.

Drone Logic is a fastidious and memorable debut, though the middle suffers from a significant lull in energy.

Raffertie by and large stays out of the way of his songwriting, and opts for subtlety over bombast--an asset that eludes many songwriters.

While not as complete or precise as any major release from Hot Chip, this is a strong debut album, even after factoring in the slightly elevated expectations based upon Goddard's previous successes.

The band now has the command of this organic/synthetic versatility in its toolbelt, often using it to find an ideal balance between highly finessed electronic soundscapes and bouts of raw, physical musicianship.

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.

One of Paper Tiger's finest qualities is its ability to include a diverse list of contributors who provide just the right formula of loops, dub beats, and samples to the album without making it seem bloated.

The new record doesn't quite live up to its predecessor, but its middle third is especially strong.

Although it may not represent a complete return to form, it's still a welcome stop on a production career that appears to have a lot of life left in it.

Whether or not one buys into Menzies' unrelentingly bleak vision, it's hard not to admire how well he captures the mood.

It's hard to knock Aguayo's unique spirit, and the boldness with which that shines through on this LP is certainly captivating in its own right.

The watery guitar parts of All the Way remain, rolled up into gritty, more linear drum-machine rhythms that occasionally give way to the serene drone of Growing's earlier years.

Track after track of nostalgia-inducing pastiche that, though a bit self-referential—they're almost dance tracks about dance tracks--somehow sound fresh. They’re effective both as exercises in the power of memory and as compelling club cuts in their own right.

Light Asylum is the product of two very talented purists whose focus on a particularly stylish bygone era has actually surpassed its roots to sound unexpectedly modern.

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.

The LP is merely the byproduct of Barnes steadily refining his intricate and very particular sound.

Shlohmo's "debut" LP arrives slightly bloated due to its own blind ambition, and might require a few taps of the skip button for a more rewarding listen.