Audioxide

IDLES’ most considered, sonically thoughtful, and complex release to date, taking the band down a new path while preserving their strengths.

Blake’s vocals are, predictably, beautiful; Blake’s production is, predictably, meticulous; and it’s all, predictably, quite predictable.

Uncompromising, and very brutal indeed. Some listeners will struggle to see it through to the end, whereas others will feel oddly comforted by its harshness.

Where others might layer up to obscene degrees, Stott has a knack for finding beauty in minuscule details. It’s practically ambient music for club-goers.

The record takes listeners on a spectacular musical safari, zipping between genres without ever feeling the slightest bit disjointed.

Music is one of many reasons the game stands apart from other battle royale titles, each tune bringing our favourite heroes (and villains) to life.

An expansive, impressive listen with delicious moments of climactic eruption. For Mogwai fans, this should feel like a hit in the band’s discography.

The album dusky psychedelic pop is covered in so much haze that, despite serious musical detours, tracks tend to blend together. It’s a good blend, though.

Using recordings from birds (mostly) on endangered lists in Britain, Sheldrake layers and manipulates birdsong to produce music as calming as it is beautiful.

The record listens like an all-night jam at an impossibly cool bohemian gettogether. It’s funky, relaxed, audacious, exhausting... but above all, it’s brilliant.

Danish composer Anders Filipsen delivers something serene and uncannily innocent, bringing a playfulness to his sweeping ambient soundscapes.

Gliding in under the radar at the tail end of last year, the Australian duo earn their 70-minute playtime and show they’ve plenty left in the tank.

Tracks swirl about at a slower pace than in Bicep’s debut. It often feels as though in creating a ‘home version’ they have instead cut out the excitement.

Relentless and unpredictable, the album's like the spawn of a Satanic ritual in a theme park. It’s oppressive and challenging, but also warm and charming.

The album is so delicate that it feels too fragile for its own good. It’s like a frozen wildflower - beautiful, but could shatter at any moment.

The album is a nostalgia trip and, unintentionally(?), the longest ‘only Millenials will remember’ meme in some time.

Emotionally vulnerable and creatively restless. The record plays out like a prolonged stream of consciousness, yet every aspect seems carefully constructed.

The album makes for hypnotic listening, bobbling along like a well-mannered German robot. All these years later it still sounds like the future.

Cosmogramma is a stunning showcase of music made, or at the very least assisted by, computers. Time has only proved it to be a genuine modern masterpiece.

Solo material from a band as prolific as Radiohead can go one of two ways. Here it leaves the impression the band is greater than the sum of its parts.

Classic Gorillaz. Buoyant and aspirational, the project feels like a release of tension after the comparative harshness of Demon Days.

Kevin Parker’s latest project has all the hallmarks of what came before, and it pushes harder on his more avant garde sensibilities.

This isn't a game changer; instead a proud statement, delivered with finesse and flair by one of the true masters of IDM.

Throughout much of its run-time, There is No Year seems content revelling in its own (admittedly awe-inspiring) ambience.

For all its instances of greatness and undeniable beauty, MAGDALENE gets tangled in its own pop epic aspirations.

The album is enthralling in the same way a vampire's glamouring might be: warm, cold, hypnotic, enticing, and foreboding as all Hell.

The aura of each composition is beautiful, yet there’s also the aching feeling of something missing. Stunning, and yet also oddly forgettable.

There's a glaring sense of lunacy throughout. It's as though JPEGMAFIA is snapping between multiple identities, and yet still manages to be soothing.

It’s like Blanck Mass put Marilyn Manson, Nine Inch Nails, Mario, and the blood of a sacrificial lamb into a kind of sonic blender.

This is ambient Muzak. For all its smoothness and gentleness it barely leaves any impression at all.

ANIMA has the Yorke's classic oddball jumpiness, but there are some really fluid sounds at play too. Does the album delight? No, but it does satisfy.

To get the most out of the record, listeners must embrace the obscurity and relish the moments of discomfort; probing shadows in order to find answers.

LP5 seems comfortable not pushing any boundaries. Tracks unravel steadily, with heavy attention shown towards atmosphere and production.

Blake has always been hugely successful at setting a mood, but for the first time in his career he actually exudes genuine emotive qualities.

A constant stream of static with blunt edges, and the glitches are rarely more than a few moments apart, but it doesn’t come off as overbearing.

Psyence Fiction attempts to be the sonic equivalent of the visual cinema experience — a lofty ambition, but UNKLE give it a bloody good go.

Production is where SOPHIE shines. Whilst there is a plethora of interesting ideas here, there’s also a notable absence of creativity in actual song writing.

Nothing feels heavy-handed or crass. OPN purposefully avoids the tired tropes of electronic music, which always results in at least a degree of fascination.

Paul G. Marchesani is a freelance producer and radio host from Philadelphia who's building a shared musical universe one album at a time.

Singularity is ultimately a record to admire rather than cherish, but there’s enough scope here for it to become a favourite for electronic listeners.

The album is constantly evolving. The rare moments of tranquility take your breath away; they feel important and momentous due to the vast textural contrast.

Air combined chillout aesthetic with downtempo percussion, adding the pop element that made them such a success. Pleasant, familiar, and often absorbing.

This is a compact, highly rewarding record; 30 minutes of mesmerising electronica that is both pleasingly disorientating and emotionally stirring.

MGMT plod along with all the charisma of a mumbler with a weak chin, and it’s not as if the mix is lush enough to distract from the absence of drive or direction.

The record is scattered with gorgeous moments that ultimately feel like a tease. Utopia occasionally grips its claws in, only to let go seconds later.

The delicate craft of Wiesenfeld’s earlier work is mostly gone, and the instrumentals are instead excitable, fidgety, and erratic. It's quite the sensory overload.

Murphy's not merely indulging his influences or recreating the past here. He delves into the past to forge a new, heady, indelible blend of electronica and rock.

From Galaxy News Radio to the old-school homages of Inon Zur's ambient soundtrack, Fallout 3 owes much of its brilliance to its music.

What The Fat of the Land lacks in diversity, it makes up for in consistency: pulsating basslines and thrilling beats, delivered with trademark Prodigy grit.

American hip-hop melded with house, techno, trap, and UK garage is an interesting approach, but as an artistic expression it’s frustratingly restrained.

Be it anxious art-rock, spasmodic electronica, or jazz-tinged soundscapes, Thom & Co. have you covered. Here are Radiohead's albums ranked worst-to-best.

Music for Airports comprises of calming tones that induce sedation and tranquillity. Listeners are invited to float among soft, fluffy ambient clouds.

With a good handful of predictable and familiar moments, Silver Eye does little to eclipse Goldfrapp's formative releases.

Homogenic is a stunning work. Björk often defies categorisation, but her third studio album has a coherence that’s often missing from her other records.

It lives and breathes like a reincarnation of disco. The melodies are infectious, the bass lines are vibrant, and the drums are wonderfully expressive.

Let's face it, Halloween playlists can be awful. Here lies an alternative lineup of frightening songs. More treats than tricks, we promise.

22, A Million feels like a nondescript blur. It doesn’t deal in structure, but in loose clusters of peculiar sounds and imperceptible words. It’s a pretentious mess.

Blond flirts with indulgence but just about manages to stay grounded. It’s an account of slight thoughts, vague ideas, and delicate musings.

Trellis’s soundtrack for Green Wing takes influence from jazz, latin, and classical music and melds them together exceedingly well.

Discovery is a classic dance albums despite its age and the progression we’ve seen in the genre since. Listening remains a pleasure, flaws and all.

Wildflower brims with positive energy, and is a worthy, if lopsided follow-up to Since I Left You. The music is carefree, graceful, and extremely accessible.

This is one of the purest and silky-smooth Aphex Twin releases yet, with steady tempos and smoothly layered synthesiser pads laying down the foundation

Since I Left You takes the listener on a whistle-stop tour of dance and electronica. All these years later it's still a serious trip.

This new record sees a heavy focus on collaborative production, exploring many sounds while seldom digging deeper into any one of them.

A daunting experience that revels in its sorrow. Radiohead have produced better records, but never before has their desolation sounded so gorgeous.

For an album that clocks in well over the hour mark, it’s regrettably unambitious and even a little safe. This is effectively James Blake on autopilot.

Fans of Blake's stripped back vocal/piano tracks are served well here, with the title track a particular highlight.

The Eraser is a wonderful listen that comes with some baggage. If you’re able to handle its intensity, it’s actually a very beautiful record.

Melding orchestral and jazz samples with beats that surge tracks forward, Dummy remains intriguing for the listener throughout. An iconic album.

While there’s little wrong with any of the cuts, the album in its entirety can feel a little half-baked. An extra push could have made this Williams' defining work.

It’s beautifully discreet, formed with an elegance that pushes it to the point of invisibility — blissful for some, but perhaps too despondent for others.

Twisting and turning and purposely blindsiding its listeners, Garden of Delete doesn’t stop evolving, often feeling like a stream of consciousness in musical form.

Strung together with downtempo drum beats, silky basslines, warming pads, and soulful vocals, it’s a very consumable album with little to jolt listeners' senses.

Squarepusher produces another solid album without pushing any boundaries. The beats are as intricate as ever, whilst the melodies keep their charm.

The Chemical Brothers’ second album is likely to please a number of electric tastes. It seldom rises above a good beat, but then it doesn’t need to.