She's become somewhat of an experimental music poster child by democratizing styles like field recordings and sound collages, which may seem daunting to new listeners. sentiment leans heavily into this, finding a middle ground between often structureless musique concrète and DIY pop tunes.

Hunt's debut isn't just a representation of her compelling Emotional Junglist sound, but a firm push against the boundaries of modern, nostalgic jungle, underlining how much even the toughest dance music can benefit from a little vulnerability.

The results are unmistakably Mount Kimbie, showcasing their love for pop, R&B, electronica and Krautrock, while also forging a new identity for themselves within indie rock.

It's her strongest project to date, a thrilling fusion of classical and electronic music delivered in astounding clarity.

The history of misogyny that followed Journey In Satchidananda complicates the serenity and innovation within it.

The results are astoundingly beautiful, like a field recording taken from some uncharted corner of the earth. Elsewhere, the climax at the end of the ominous "Talking To The Whisper" beggars belief, it's a traffic jam of cascading keys, sporadic drumming, serpentine brass and more, an explosion of chaotic sound to conclude one of her best songs ever.

It's a record that balances the hardcore continuum with emotion as she turns out club tunes touched by vulnerability.

Tyla's music hovers in a zone that occupies amapiano, Afrobeats, and R&B all at once. That she's able to occupy all these spaces in a way that feels familiar is a testament to her poise and ingenuity.

The way he calls back to nearly all of his past projects, one could make the mistake that Hebden's best years are behind him. That would be missing the point, though. Regardless of all the attention he's received from his massive performances, he's still looking for new ways to be Four Tet.

As excerpts of poetry sound like heart-stricken dialogue and foggy soundscapes take the shape of a score, it often steps out of the confines of music and begins to approach theatre.

The album bops and bangs as he explores throbbing Detroit techno and bouncy Kraftwerkian synth pop, overlaying those genres with recordings of his time in Hong Kong to create a deeply spiritual album that fuses traditions, lineages and memories.

Instead of building on the momentum of her songwriting career, Still pulls her back into her comfort zone, with promising hints of something new waiting in the spaces between.

Adult Contemporary might not break any new ground or present any radical ideas, but as the familiar saying goes, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

The real freaks can nerd out on the harmonic theory that will wash right over most ears on this divinely sequenced record. You don't need to be educated to enjoy Malone's music: it's emotive, world-building and all-encompassing. The beauty lies within that.

Wise's third album is striking not only because of his unparalleled voice or his candid verse, parts of his artistry that already caught our attention on the last two albums, but because of the way these elements come together in such an assured way, in a space that demands swagger bravado from its virtuosos delivered with a welcome vulnerability.

King Perry (released on Tricky's label—he also co-produces four tracks) simply falls flat, lost in technological tricks and devoid of Perry's classic, quizzical warmth.

Vibrant, dynamic displays that veer towards transcendence. Rife with the yearning for more prevalent love, Lovegaze is a bewitching offering of psychedelia and astral folk that goes beyond the mind, and peers into the soul of a distinct talent as she exalts beauty in its rawest forms.

This album can work when it's in service of something other than itself. Listened to in smaller stretches, it becomes a bit easier to digest, and opens up a bit.

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.

It keeps intact what makes her one of the most exciting UK pop acts of the 2020s, gesturing towards the mainstream while still keeping one foot in her musical hometown. It's the kind of record a promising artist puts out before they release something truly next-level.

Not so serious, just damn fun. Davis is taking big swings, purposely stomping through giant puddles like a kid again, eager to see how stain patterns form. So even when he misses, he still hits.

Part of the reason why LXXXVIII is so enjoyable is all these callbacks—it's catnip to a diehard Actress fan. There's a few new wrinkles on there, sure—the jazzy chord changes, the piano, the almost formless ambient sections—but mostly it's what he does best.

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

It's a boisterous, life-affirming record that successfully blends essential elements of dancefloor house music with some of the more convivial markers of Peruvian and Latin American music and culture at large.

Across Goodbye, Hotel Arkada, she continues to craft poignant work that tints the atmosphere, transporting the listener to the remembrances and moments of imagination that float freely within the mind's eye.

At 16 songs and with impressive guest features, it's a sprawling portrait of James, one with mostly dark and subdued tones.

It's an album that sounds less extreme than it has any right to, inspiring a cold and technical appreciation for Lopatin's craftsmanship, but not necessarily excitement.

Some of the most affecting ambient music of the year, and perhaps even the very best in Halo's rich, unpredictable catalogue.

If only Tension lived up to the promise that she might be given something different. As it is, though, it's another entry in a rock-solid catalogue of dependable, uplifting club pop.

With its unabashed focus on large, universal emotions softened by the weight of adult experience, softscars is a beautiful blast from the past, made brighter with its emotionally timeless themes and crunchy rock aesthetics.

It's another sharp turn in the road on the winding journey of a creative nomad.

Their tenth LP, For That Beautiful Feeling, returns to their well-established formula once again, at times surging with renewed ambition and other times falling curiously flat.

Playing Robots Into Heaven pitches itself right in the middle, swallowing up Blake's wounded reveries in a tide of dance floor-friendly inspiration. It's the most vital he's sounded in years.

trip9love...??? is easily one of the greatest accomplishments in the small but impressive Tirzah catalogue.

Eyeroll is Ziúr's most punk record to date, planting her proudly on the fringes where she's happiest.

Instead of attempting to reinvent the wheel, he refines and extends his legacy, preserving the familiar while hearkening back to the uncanny moods that shroud his best ambient-leaning works.

Backed by a cast of co-producers like Pearson Sound, Tensnake and Paul White, she expands her sound to fit these more bracing topics, without losing the DIY charm that made her an instant star to begin with.

Huge credit is due to Audika: while Picture Of Bunny Rabbit is an archival compilation built from disparate sources, it feels like the kind of asymmetrical, twisty little solo album Russell would have made himself, not just a bonus disc.

It once again proves Barbieri to be a singular talent in the realm of synthesizer music, creating enormous, intimidating, completely enveloping work.

The spirit of those dance floors lives on through this second volume of the Legacy series.

Further Out Than The Edge's vibrant cast of characters, lively experimental rhythms and rich improvisation underlines why Speakers Corner Quartet are so firmly embedded within South London's musical landscape.

There's so much clarity and hope to be found in Jayda G's marriage of production with songwriting that any cloying moments are easily forgiven.

Even in the depths of despair she still managed to turn out something that feels lush and enticing. DREAMER is one of those albums people revisit for all kinds of reasons, whether they're sitting drinking wine with friends or out on a walk in need of a good cry.

I Hope You Can Forgive Me, ten songs under a half hour that move quickly but stay with you long after, is a full-fledged real-time resume that demonstrates how complex rhythms and careful arrangements can elevate the human voice to the ultimate instrument.

Secret Life is undeniably gorgeous. But it's a mainstream, you-know-how-this-ends kind of gorgeous, like a Hollywood remake of some European arthouse film. ... It's difficult to be mad at Secret Life. But the bigger problem is that it's hard to feel anything at all.

For the most part, though, their method bears fruit, yielding an irresistibly catchy pop record that holds true to its humble Welsh roots.

Tightening up the chaos that blighted his sophomore record, The Rat Road doubles down on SBTRKT's multi-genre vision and pulls it off slightly better. His cocktail of pop and underground influences sounds more decisive and refined, though there are still moments that fizzle rather than ignite.

Emerson's decision to duck out of dance music and resurface as an indie-electronica artist for her long-awaited debut album feels like a risk, but in its well-worn and world-weary approach to songwriting, it's also deeply familiar, almost comforting.

But what comes off at first as blistering and self-deprecating actually reveals her deep reverence and respect for her own complexity.

Whatever you want and could ever require from the progressive soul textbook is up in here. Darts, slaps, bops and most definitely thumpers. ... Renders a greater reward than we could ever envision. Voice Notes gives us just that.

The complexities of No Highs are masked by its minimalism. Hecker pairs expansive and bright songs with more repetitive compositions, capturing the beauty in uneasiness and vice versa, and keeping the album from blurring into an ambient haze.

It traces Yaeji's emotional development, coming to terms with anger and resentment she had suppressed as a child—a period that she channels into her charged and surprisingly bracing new LP.

It's meant to be experienced in one fell swoop. Once the record works its magic on you, it'll be hard to pull out a single moment.

Crash Recoil relishes in the same spontaneity offered by Child's live performances, composed of songs that feel more structured like cinematic scenes than traditional techno tracks.

The album nostalgically embraces all corners of rock music past with post-punk, heavy metal glossy shoegaze and more, while still pushing the boundaries a good distance forward. ... If The Asymptotical World was the sunset preceding the meteor, then Praise A Lord is the big hunk of rock itself. The resulting explosion—in all of its chaotic, god-defying beauty—leaves a fully formed rock superstar emerging from its ashes.

Listening to WOW delivers genuine warmth, happiness and light. Within these settings, Shilonosova expands her ever-evolving and inquisitive personal soundworld of beautiful music for the body and the mind.

On the most fully realized vision of the Fever Ray project yet, Dreijer unspools some of their best lyrics and pop songs since The Knife's 2007 smash "Heartbeats.

This is an album about possibilities rather than parameters, and it's a highlight in both artists' recent catalogs.

The album gets off to a rough start with "Don't Leave Me Like This," whose poppy melancholy could be better appreciated if Bobby Raps's vocals weren't distorted to an infuriating chipmunk pitch. ... But on tracks like "Way Back," Moore shines, and his knack for earworm melodies, genre mashups and collaboration comes through.

Listening to the album feels like opening a time capsule to the early and mid-10s, a period marked by a cheesy, over-the-top hedonism that might only be truly understood if you survived the Great Recession and saw Obama become president twice. ... It's easier to get behind Quest For Fire when Moore's dubstep influences are subtler.

A Carrollian multiverse of shapes, sounds and ideas that only becomes richer the longer you spend there. It might take some time, but it's endlessly rewarding.

Raven's underwater mood is all-consuming and meditative, so much so that it takes several listens to fully comprehend all the infinitesimal details that contribute to its brilliance—the sound of water bubbling, a flourishing synth or Kelela's pristine, whispered harmonies.

Though Malone's music can often feel still, one thing's for certain about Does Spring Hide Its Joy: it'll move you.

Sakamoto has made a workaday logbook into something transcendent, partly because of its intimacy. Whether it's one of his major works is a question for future historians, but coming amidst an ongoing struggle with cancer, its bravery is defiant and splendid, the sound of an artist's soul laid bare.

The result is one of the most punchy, lyrically explorative UK rap albums of the year.

The extended runtimes on Perpetual Now provide each of these pensive sound pieces enough room to tell their own meandering stories, with a dynamism that takes you out of time, placing you firmly within each boundless, everchanging meditation. At this music's core is an insight into the machinations of rRoxymore's mind.

Together, Dom Maker and Kai Campos are something truly special. Apart, they still sound pretty damn talented, which makes this diversion a welcome one as the group work towards their next grand statement.

While the record is a joyous, uplifting listen, there are not many surprises. After hearing Dijon in full effect on her previous LP, it left me with residual disappointment about the album's untapped potential. But there are still moments to be excited about on the album's B-side.

Gibson's earlier work mixed pop mastery with genuine feeling. Actual Life 3 is the Hollywood remake, with not-quite-convincing lookalikes and a script laden with clichés.

She's a musician adept at using her voice as an instrument, and with it she can convey appealing, addicting hooks. And these strengths are complemented by her crew of reliable producers. ... Even with a roster of collaborators like this, the record occasionally hits a bump when the ambitious, sometimes challenging production doesn't fit her idiosyncratic flow, like on the Sega Bodega-produced "Little Bit." But on the best moments, her vocals mesh seamlessly with off-kilter backing tracks.

It's like listening to the sea, before the strings slip in and out of tune like crashing waves. The beauty that emerges throughout the record requires patience to be appreciated in full and—to Frahm's credit—when it arrives, it's worth the wait.

It's the most relaxed, comfortable album he's ever made, and it's a delight to drift along with him.

This foray beyond the confines of UK rap doesn't leave the album feeling muddled or stylistically confused—her out-there synth rap sound remains consistent throughout, for a polished, elegant debut album that stands tall inside (and outside) the UK's rap scene.

On Natural Brown Prom Queen, she proves she belongs to no mood, genre or period of time. Over a placeless mix of sounds and endlessly dynamic beats she comes of age, shaping Black histories into exciting futures, all while making it clear that her idea of home is wherever she decides it is at any given moment.

The strength of In These Times is in its considered arrangements. The melodies take center stage rather than solely the kinetic rhythmic attack McCraven can unleash whenever he pleases. And when he pleases, his percussion charts can hit with a ferocity that shudders like drum licks plucked from a lengthy Fela-meets James-Brown after-hours live session.

The final result is up there, but as it jumps frantically from idea to idea, it dulls the impact of its best ideas in favour of others that might have been best left in a folder along with hundreds of other loops on his laptop.

Like any such grand project, it's daring and indulgent, occasionally weighed down by its own pretence, and the result is several songs on the album that seem to unspool in no direction in particular. But that unwinding is usually gripping, and like the other two albums Björk's recent renaissance—Utopia and Vulnicura—Fossora stuns more often than it doesn't.

As a whole, the album succeeds at doing something tricky: pandering to fans of theory, minimalism and ambient music all in equal measure.

There's a weightiness to Polar's songwriting that both complements and contrasts the crystalline production touches.

With slightly more judicious editing, Let's Turn It Into Sound could have been a grand crossover statement, combining admittedly trendy synth experiments with freak-folk charisma. But that's not what Smith is going for here. Instead, the LP feels like listening to someone try out a new talent, learning as they go along, substituting practiced polish with a hunger for new ideas and self-expression.

Where her past work could sound like it was written for a grandiose 18th-century opera house, Living Torch is closer to the long-lost sonic component of a modern art installation, endless in its possibilities and imagination.

It's both humble and ambitious, wonderfully arranged in some places and slightly clumsy in others (the Popol Vuh-isms of "Start A New Life" kill the album's momentum just three tracks in, and I've yet to be convinced by Weber's humdrum vocals). But for an artist who has always been earnest and upfront about big melodies, Garden Gaia feels like the logical next step, freeing him from his techno past.

What I Breathe feels like both a jumping-off point for dance music newbies and a feast of great ideas for those who have been around the block a few times. It's all held together by great pacing, frankly amazing production and a lack of cynicism that feels refreshing, open-hearted to the very last moment.

Although Spirit Exit, both more expansive and more restrained, doesn't oscillate as wildly as her previous expeditions, the heart strings remain plucked in gorgeous loops and motifs that spiral out into infinity.

The result is some of the most intimate and grandiose music he's ever produced.

Beyoncé is clearly itching to experiment with her sound. This latest album may not be her most cohesive release, but it does come with a handful of well-executed surprises. ... The album falls flat when it tries too hard to immerse itself in a culture that does not belong to Beyoncé.

Sharp and fiery, Isoviha lacks any restraint, capturing the paradoxical multiplicity and singularity that makes all of Ripatti’s output so memorable.

Sometimes it feels like one of the best records I've heard in recent memory, other times I wish it would just get to the point faster. But I think that's by design. ... To appreciate Escapology is to look at it as one piece in the puzzle, not an album so much as it is a single cog in Goodman's latest piece. It asks more questions than it answers, but poses them like few other artists could.

The spirit of the concept is dazzlingly portrayed at times, but the LP also conveys the emptiness of these things, the true idea of a "new pleasure"—everything we want, though not always enough of what we need. But it's great while it lasts.

From start to finish, Nothing To Declare poses scintillating questions that have no answers, leaving genre tropes smoking on the electric chair. DJ Haram proves the perfect dance partner for Moor Mother.

It's her most capital-A ambient album, without the sometimes harsh interference of her favored found sounds and field recordings. Yet at the same time, it's so quiet that it slips into the edges of comprehension just when you've determined you're going to get to the bottom of it. All the better to listen to it again to see what you missed—and then again, and again and again.

It's a much less linear journey than we would expect from Owens, but it's also a welcome shift, an intriguing pivot from the very human themes of Inner Song. This time around, she invites the listener to wade through the fascinating depths of her imagination. It's hard not to close your eyes and surrender to the figure-eight flow.

If Outrun was a fast-paced drive that made the city look like an endless stream of light-trails, Reborn is a beautiful retro pastiche that intentionally slows down to let you take in just how far you've come.

In the unhurried calm of Whatever The Weather, it's easy to envision the slow-moving shifts of the season. ... However one chooses to sit with the sounds in the album, personally, as an American, Celsius has never sounded so dreamy.

Though not without its charms, the floundering moments of Crash suggests that Charli XCX may be most comfortable making subversive music.

With ideas that Froese wisely and generously left behind in this earthly realm, Froese has given us another Tangerine Dream near-masterpiece, created by the loyal pupils who grew up in his significant shadow.

This is actually one of his more readily enjoyable albums, even if it's a little less adventurous most of the records from his long-running Pan•American project.

The album's wordless songs are almost as riveting as their counterparts.