Harlecore is the souvenir, a collection of dance music so deliriously upbeat you can't help but surrender to it.

Motzfeldt and Stoltenberg's subtle R&B harmonies are understated and arresting, exposing the inner sanctum of a complex emotional relationship. Believer is an album about raw friendship, personal image and collective awareness.

Sound Ancestors is an ideal entry into the world of Madlib.

The end result is unified in its daydreamy mood. What we get from each track, and from all of them together, is a mellow sense of the sublime.

Not everything on Isles is a win—"Rever" and "Fir" dial the neon palette up a notch too high—but overall the album nails the tricky balance artists face when following a successful debut: similar enough to charm the old fans yet fresh enough to entice the new.

This collection gives a certain joy that a hyper-specific brand of record collector gets from the "not gonna make it easy on you" type of inspiration.

Dis Fig transcends In Blue's origins in genre exercise into an otherworldly fever dream, an album of tectonic bass and thundering drums that somehow feels intimate and sensual. It's as much her triumph as it is his.

Guerrilla's rough kuduro is an impressive leap for a mature style. But its most remarkable feature is the artist's unflinching embrace of a distressing legacy. As a memorial to his family's story and Angola's past, Guerrilla is more than a mark of respect. It's an act of love.

This is imaginative and complex dance music, with a level of detail that in the hands of a different artist could become overwhelming. Luckily, as brainy as it gets at points, Second Language is always exhilarating.

The progression in Atobe's work is incremental. Beyond the title-track, Yes mostly does away with the classy, tech house-style snap prevalent on 2018's Heat. For an artist that emerged as a model of consistency, Atobe takes a surprising amount of left turns.

Most of The Edge Of Everything is top-tier drum & bass with an experimental bent.

The covers are the stickiest aspect of 7G. Most of them are one-note, more of an "influences" playlist than a collection of worthy interpretations. They weigh down the already heavy album with dead weight, but the hit rate of 7G is remarkably high anyways, a testament to Cook's vision.

Lafawndah's stripped-down approach invites us to sit in these new environments, culminating in an album that feels as thoroughly absorbing as a good novel.

Shygirl remains tough and unforgiving across ALIAS, and her voice as an artist has never been stronger. She's a full-blown pop star driven by her luscious fantasies.

Because Of A Flower pieces together a similar set of songs to ~~~, but with a more open and assured mindset.

Overstuffed with ideas, some of Magic Oneohtrix Point Never's odd juxtapositions and clever references feel merely "neat." You don't get the sense Lopatin's deeply invested—more that he's throwing concepts at the wall and seeing what sticks. There are stunning moments on Magic Oneohtrix Point Never.

There's a palpable lust for life throughout the 20 tracks, but Edna is at its most arresting when Headie details his journey from custodial sentences to commercial success with unflinching candor.

As usual, Karma & Desire is a sprawling, unpredictable maze of an album, but Actress is no longer a solitary figure navigating rain-streaked streets alone. He's invited others along to zigzag with him.

It still sounds like music from the furthest reaches of the galaxy, but after three decades of getting to know Sean Booth and Rob Brown, the feelings wrought in their work have never been clearer or more heart-rending than on SIGN.

Shades feels like a group effort. Khan's deadpan but catchy vocals are a huge part of the appeal, and the whole band sounds locked in, especially Calderwood and his wild soloing. ... It's the kind of quietly brilliant record that makes you fall in love with a band all over again, sharpening their approach—and songwriting—without losing the shambolic charm that made them so loveable in the first place.

Phoenix fully establishes a distinct Eartheater style, building mountains underground and finding worlds of meaning in deep introspection.

Inner Song's highs are very high. Beyond the bang-on production, the LP feels like as much of a journey for the listener as it does the protagonist.

Roisin Machine captures the singer at her most triumphant, finally comfortable in her role as an alt-pop icon—there's something casual and more assured about this Roisin Murphy.

Pinned down somewhere between pared-down jazz and emotive R&B, Duval Timothy continues to find insightful ways to tell stories by way of repetition. When ideas are this robust, the extra stuff becomes less important.

This is not Jaar's best album, nor is it his strangest, but it's a wonderful listen that tempts you to get lost in its many layers. It is beautiful but confounding, an artwork whose "solid form" still passes through like water trickling down between your fingers.

A strange, deeply impressive pop album, and the overall mood reminds me of the mix of ennui and boundless imagination that define childhood, images flitting across the screen, a colourful window to a world that doesn't exist.

On ORCORARA 2010, Crampton fleshes out a unique sound world that's desolate but lush, harsh yet hopeful. It feels like one of her greatest, most permanent works.

Though it finds Smith at her most reserved, The Mosaic Of Transformation feels like a breakthrough, melting the pop-savvy hooks of her past records into one gorgeous, rarefied sound, as invigorating and smooth as electricity flowing through circuits.