The LP's strength is in that undecidedness. When he leans too far to one side, which actually doesn't happen all that often, the album can feel mournful or facile.

Regardless of whether they're successful or not isn't quite the point; what makes Shaking the Habitual so important is that The Knife used an important moment in their own history to truly subvert the hierarchy that both the band and the album exist in. Thankfully, they also wrote some near-perfect music in the process.

At it best moments, Overgrown proves that the two sides of James Blake—the dancefloor oddball and the crossover songwriter—can exist side by side, but it also demonstrates that, at least right now, the balance between the two is totally off.

It's a confident attempt to stake out a distinguishable sound within the web of influences and like-minded contemporaries the band has been linked to, including stalwarts like New Order and Radiohead, as well as newer faces like James Blake and The xx.

Without necessarily bucking the trends of today, Koze has provided a complete picture of his truly singular outlook on dance music.

A cursory listen to The North Borders may give a "been there done that" impression at points, but a closer listen reveals just how much he's carefully pushing his own boundaries.

Nostalgic is an exciting journey, but during the moments when Lapalux fails to provide a coherent roadmap, it's a bit too easy for the rest of us to get lost.

Though Miami displays a jazzier, looser, and often darker side of Brandt Brauer Frick, it doesn't overshadow the classical techno-ensemble sound the trio first introduced on You Make Me Real.

Disregarding the CD's tacked-on bonus cuts, what takes place between the record's two "Voiceprint"s is a richly detailed, time-dilating set from a producer who can make the most out of narrow limitations.

LISm remains a particularly mesmerizing listen, traveling through an impressively wide range of sounds and seamlessly blending them into a unified compostion.

As always, it's a lot to take in; even after a dozen listens, the album's too oblique to really register in the memory. That slipperiness does nothing to diminish the moments when things really stick, though.

In the end, Heliosphere is everything a techno LP should be, an effort that's not only a platform for delivering established sounds, but also an avenue for revealing new sides of the artist's production abilities and imagination.

Anxiety is a draining front-to-back listen; it becomes much more comfortable when one is able to take each track as an individual single. However, there is a reward for making it to the end of Ashin's therapy session.

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.

Picking up right where A Certain Distance left off, the Seattle-based producer's latest LP shows the same passion for methodical soundscapes, which are no less thoughtful for their glowing warmth.

Ultimately, Dutch is less vibrant and, well, relevant than dance deconstructions by Actress or Oneohtrix, but it's also a lot harder to pin down, and there's a rogue-ish appeal to that.

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

The record may not be Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill, but pieces like "Living Room" are the essence of Harris's singular oeuvre.

The production is immaculately pretty, but it also tends to swamp the music's thrust, and one ends the album unsure of exactly what Darkstar is anymore.

Home's biggest problem is that it can easily drift by almost unnoticed.

Thanks to his savvy techniques and careful placement, his penchant for the far-out fringes of dance music doesn't seem weird at all, but delightfully intriguing.

Centralia, for the most part, goes back to the duo's tried-and-true dynamics for a seemingly exhaustive summary of the band.

A bleak and beautiful ambient record that occasionally reaches beyond its self-imposed confines.

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.

What it may lack in sound system-minded sonics it makes up for with its distinctive mix of cacophonous rhythms and touches of warped soul that result in what is, simply put, an accomplished debut LP full of inventive house music.

Release is an impressive feat overall, one that offers up a handful of uniquely dancefloor-ready tracks while continuing to show that Pangaea and Hessle are not likely to fall behind the cutting edge of dance music anytime soon.

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.

Ultimately, the restless movement here doesn't help the "classical" tracks connect to a non-specialized audience, but it does make for an inventive dialogue between the club and the ivory tower.