Ibifornia is a lush, exotic album with star-studded collabs which sounds as inspired by the jungle as it is by the dancefloor.

Recorded in Sydney, New York and California, ‘Faraway Reach’ bursts with sun-soaked vibes.

It’s a twilight dream of a record that’s uncompromisingly odd but absolutely direct, and addictive from first listen. The Invisible have made the album of the summer.

It’s just him, a piano and a bunch of songs (some original, some standards), and they feel so raw that listening to them borders on the uncomfortable.

Written in her producer’s garden shed rather than the confines of a studio, Laura Mvula sounds confident and free throughout her second album.

Trippy instrumental ‘Traanc’ is probably the most quintessential Audion track, while ‘Destroyer’ and ‘Sucker’ scream Circoloco 2016 until their production lungs run out of steam.

There are a few tracks (including the two straight-ahead rap tunes and haunting closer ‘Suicide Pact’) where he does actually let the groove unfold naturally, but that just makes even more frustratingly clear how much better the rest of this record could be if only Shadow would just ease off on the tinkering and fidgeting.

There’s the risk of pastiche here--and sometimes the slow builds, churning synths and sinister whispers seem generic, like you’ve heard them before--but at their best they sound elemental, and perfect for the darkest of dancefloors.

Edited to its very essence, the album is only 36 minutes long, but sometimes that’s all you need.

Some of his best yet.

Journeying and introspective, U pieces together a narrative that reflects on a past relationship; sculpting electronica, garage and piano together effortlessly.

Swapping sixth form studies for her real passion of singing, writing and producing music, the 19-year-old’s mature debut is an autobiographical “art project”.

It’s reminiscent of that doyenne of experimental electronica, Laurie Anderson--and that’s a heck of a compliment.

Should I Remain Here At Sea? and Taste stand as proof that "Mastermind, Islands" should be Thorburn's lead credit. [No. 131, p.57]

It makes for a tumultuous trip that has all the highs and lows of a real relationship, and one that sounds as good alone, on headphones, as it will in the club.

On occasion the constantly shifting patterns can get a bit itchy and unsettling, but for the most part it’s a joyful creation.

For the most part, it’s a sweaty journey of ribcage-rattling techno from the genre’s biggest players.

From where we’re standing, this is the debut album of the year.

On some songs it feels like it’s still an experiment in progress--it’ll be fascinating to see how they evolve on the live stage and in remixes--but just as often, Orton is absolutely on top of her game.

Tracks on The Triad are often busier, denser and more wild than their predecessor. Gone are the carefully layered compositions and _sparse wintry landscapes and arrived have more free flowing jams.

There are certainly moments of huge elegance and even dancefloor nirvana here, but the rigidity seems to stifle some of the magic in comparison to the album’s predecessor.

Lanza, the antithesis of the ululating, overwrought antics of the X Factor school, has an arsenal of talents that puts her in a league of her own. She’s very much for real.

While Under The Sun isn’t quite as strong as its monumental predecessor ‘76:14’, Pritchard still has an eye for coaxing out the astoundingly beautiful from ‘cold’ electronics.

Every track here reveals new depths on repeat plays. The year’s first essential comp? You guessed correctly.

Honey is an energetic and youthful love letter to Katy B’s clubbing roots.

Easy listening it isn’t, but from the barest of palettes, Kowton has built something with personality and raw power.

It’s an album that’s a handy reminder of how inseparable weirdo experimentalism is from the badass mainstream in hip hop.

With everything lathered in exquisite, 90s-sounding euphoria, the duo prove to be irresistible, once again.