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

Visa finds Ripatti attuned to a very specific, focused energy, and the result is some of his best work.

For something as weighty as a debut album from a hotly-tipped artist, Parallel Memories feels a little too light for its own good.

Power Of Anonymity merely repeats the ideas first laid out on Yours & Mine, sometimes improved yet other times untouched.

It's another entry of his sublime wanderer's music as Torn Hawk, and includes some of his most arresting and sonically numbing creations to date.

Magazine 13 doesn't feel like a coherent album so much as a more open-ended platform for the same thing we get on his 12-inches.

Clearly, Stewart's future does not lie in crossover R&B--he should drill down into his musical imagination to open up ever weirder, deeper seams.

Where their first album felt like a definitive statement, Natural Selection sounds, as so many second albums do, like a diffuse bunch of half-realised ideas.

Even when Clark is firing sounds at bewildering speeds, it's never a chore--in other words, it's a lot more fun than Clark's reputation might suggest.

For an artist who has traditionally experimented with recording methods, Quixotism is another landmark, thanks largely to how natural it sounds in spite of its ambitious approach.

By injecting a self-serious genre with a sense of theatre, Bestial Burden makes Chardiet's music more engaging without dulling its edge.

Music this haunting is more universal than local.

From its rumbling lows to its ethereal, resonant highs, Tomorrow Was The Golden Age is one of the simplest and most beguiling albums of its kind since Stars Of The Lid's landmark run on Kranky in the '00s.

The most fully formed and wholly unique record in his discography.

The combination of these two forces is both inspired and insane.

Xen remains as singular--and often as brilliant--as the rest of the Arca catalogue.

Sure, the LP has its eccentric moments, and it takes a long time to really get to know. But, as The Redeemer hinted and Black Metal proves, beneath all the YouTube sampling, bizarre press and one-off Russian blog releases, Blunt is a talented singer-songwriter with a keen ear for odd sounds.

It's bold, maybe even avant-garde, but from beginning to end it's raucous, barnstorming, chair-dancing fun.

Huxley's pop forays might not be for everyone, but there's plenty on Blurred to appeal to both his underground acolytes and, perhaps, a new crop of fans as well.

Rundell and Goddard are still crafting warm, well-balanced tracks, but the parts that reveal their personalities—namely the lyrics--are often awkward and strangely didactic.

Wonder Where We Land pads its vocal tracks with plush instrumentals, morsels of melody that would have been strong points if they weren't so half-baked.

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.

With In A Dream, Maclean and Whang have crafted some of most expertly tuneful music of their career.

The whole album bleeds into one magnificent mess, thanks in part to some incredibly short track times, but also to the nature of the music itself.

Like most Caribou albums, Our Love is a grower.

Amid all this diversity, Abaporu is a remarkably steady work, with Boratto's consistent sound palette and knack for melody running strong throughout.

With KOCH, Gamble has found a canvas that's just the right size to fit everything on, to hold the whole beautiful thing up at once.

These are synthetic sounds that have a sense of natural decay built into them, but Prudhomme unleashes them with such carefully built momentum, the music can't help but feel optimistic.

A standout record in an already peerless discography.

Endgame excels when its structures are more orthodox.

Now, in 2014, Vessel has given us one of the year's best electronic music albums, and it's hardly electronic.

Listening to Imagin is like pulling on a old pair of trainers: comfortable, familiar and, ultimately, rather boring.

It's nice indeed, but it may leave you craving something a little stronger.

For what is essentially a composite of three "live" performances (all produced on a deliberately limited set-up of two modular synths, two sequencers and a mixer), Whorl is surprisingly cohesive.

There's a near-perfect EP buried in here somewhere, and an inventive musical personality waiting to burst out, but Moiré's debut album does a better job of showcasing his potential than realizing it.

Whyte has made an LP that rises and falls gracefully, proving that even his brand of everything-all-the-time dance music has room for nuance and subtlety.

Angels & Devils marks an evolution of the sound that made London Zoo a classic.

In the end, LP1 is probably the most singular pop album of the year. It's testament to how emotionally affecting one person's realised vision can be.

As expected, Hyperdub's output retains a pretty sophisticated tone even when it's dealing in pop hooks and party tracks.

Taking touchstones from familiar genres and refiguring them into something completely new, it's like a microcosm of the label as a whole.

The instrumental and production prowess on display is fairly stunning.

It's a fascinating mosaic in which every tiny detail lends colour and depth to a work of real, high-minded seriousness.

It's a powerful formula, and Dall and Ander have basically perfected it here.

A solid diversion from two artists who we know can do better.

Imperfect as it is, International is proof that the group's future is limited only by the force of its wanderlust.

The whole album sounds like it was mastered from a chewed-up old C90--it's post-chillwave music, busy and glitchy, but as relaxing as a soak in a warm bath.

These songs still aim to elicit an emotion from you, and they're still not particularly subtle. The difference is you don't feel like it's being shoved down your throat.

If The Phoenix is that feature film we were waiting for, it could stand an edit or two.

My Love Is A Bulldozer is a deeply ostentatious album, though knowingly so.

There's something so inherently off-kilter about Scruff's kaleidoscopic production that it just doesn't jell with the sound of a human voice being all serious.

The first new Plastikman material in over ten years was always going to carry some high expectations, and as solid as it is, this one doesn't quite match up.

[Amphis (Reprise) is] a quiet, almost reverent close to an album that further refines the disorienting beauty we've come to expect from Luke Abbott.

A collection of big, bouncy and immaculately produced club tunes, it brings together some fine productions. But it's also a tough record to love.

Krell's still part of a pop vanguard, but his music is more than ever a welcoming gesture.

The striking concept alone is enough to make this album worth a listen. That it turned out to be so inspiring is a happy byproduct of the whole experiment.

It's equal parts dark and light, these two elements intermingling to create an ambivalent set of emotions, from gnawing fear to brief tranquillity, as unnerving and uncertain as you imagine life in a war zone might be.

This is their most focused mix yet, and even though they're ostensibly working with a finite number of resources, the well of obscure disco cuts seems far from dried up.

Da Mind Of Traxman Vol. 2 might not be Traxman's most innovative album, but that's fine. It's still one of the genre's most singular records so far.

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.

It shows him settling into a state of deep contentment, evoking the same warm and fuzzy feeling you get from throwing on a record that you know inside and out.

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

Hendra is an always beautiful, sometimes stunning album, if one that bears no trace of its creator's knack for house music.

Like his last album, Leaning Over Backwards, A Series of Shocks is rich and spatially ambitious.

On Turn Blue you can tell the duo remain integral and solidly at the core, new influences or not.

Where 2009's By The Throat was ruthless but exacting, this one feels genuinely unhinged--and that unpredictability makes it far more thrilling than any engineered suspense could have been.

Butler's troupe have always been unique--a dance floor-friendly manifestation of the dissenting, politicised queer underground--but now they're making transcendent music again, too.

That's Harakiri isn't trying to be a dance floor album--it's trying to unsettle the listener. And it's succeeding.

Chromeo still aren't the most serious guys in the world, but White Women is a smart pop album rendered in vivid, 3-D detail.

Asiatisch sounds better when heard as an experimental grime album and left at that. You certainly don't need to know anything about China to enjoy it.

Metal, techno and noise fans will all find solace here, as the band juggle sounds from all three to make something that sounds new, and almost natural.

Their lush synth textures are a few tints darker and their songwriting is a whole lot tighter.

Overall, like the California sunshine, it's an irrefutable tonic.

At times Weird Drift's afternoon daze softens into formlessness.

Food might sound pretty, but it's weaker than the sum of its parts.

It's appealing stuff, but dig deeper and you'll find there's not much beneath the pristine surface.

Dreams isn't flawless--the alt-folk ballad "United," for one, meanders a bit too much--but WhoMadeWho's best tracks are incredible.

Given the ubiquity of some of this material, It's Album Time is a little tricky to assess on its own merit. But with tracks like "Delorean Dynamite," "Johnny And Mary," and "Old Joy," there are certainly plenty of grandiose stretches to keep us satisfied.

Whether they're taking inspiration from '70s kosmische or more contemporary sounds, Vermont's debut album is continually intriguing and texturally rich.

Their first record done entirely as a duo, and their most mature piece of music yet.

For fans of Ø, or anyone keen on abstract, contemplative electronic music, this is a fine release with more than a few fantastic moments.

Brandt Brauer Frick's contribution to the series, while not a classic, is still a little treasure trove.

While there’s a yearning for youth about the album, it also has calibre that’s to be celebrated. Matthews’ voice, his mastery of mood and storytelling shines through, lifting this to a satisfyingly high point of achievement.

Glow dumbs down Niemerski's music into mass market-ready chunks.

With Signals, Wen has nearly perfected the claustrophobic grime sound he started sketching in 2012.

Love Letters is more mature, doleful and disconnected from club trends.

Even at its biggest, it sounds disappointingly thin.

There's an excellent 12-inch (or two) hidden in Addison Groove Presents James Grieve.

Despite his mainstream flirtations, Cashmere Cat is more about delaying pleasure than instant gratification.

Lyrically, this may be the work of a 49 year-old woman, with its ruminations on family, married life and paying the bills, but, in terms of its energy and sheer lust for life, it could not sound fresher.

ESTOILE NAIANT is perfectly pleasant while it’s playing, but you might not remember it so well afterwards.

Like most of his records, his self-titled LP shows a talent that stretches well beyond house music, weaving together funk, soul, hip-hop, jazz and R&B into a rich and unpredictable bricolage.

Death After Life is so seamless and consistent that it might grow tedious for less patient listeners.

It has hooks galore, but embedded in brilliantly strange music.

It always felt like the UK dance community was collectively cheering for Katy B's success, and Little Red shows how much she deserves it.

Melding the jerkiness of dancehall with deconstructed house, it's raw to the point of bloodiness.

They make some mistakes, sure--the vocal spots from JODY and Yen Tech are fumbles--but they're more adept than ever at stewing their idiosyncratic set of sounds into one deliciously strange brew.

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

Ghettoville doesn't sound like the work of a producer who's no longer able to make wondrous music; there's enough craft and intention here to suggest that, for whatever reason, he just didn't this time.