Autechre – EP’s 1991 – 2002
So there’s plenty of pleasure here, but plenty of difficulty as well. As the years went on, Autechre became masters of bright melodies that they then drowned in distortion– their own abstract variation on “noise pop.” 1999’s EP7 might be their most beautiful release, but it’s also one of their most disorienting, built from what seems like several hundred gigs worth of glittering little chunks of sound. From then on, Autechre’s music would be about things endlessly falling apart and rebuilding themselves and falling apart again in spectacular fashion. On “Gantz Graf”, one of their most convoluted beat-and-riff creations becomes subjected to so much abuse that it collapses into screaming noise, as if the track itself is pleading for relief. There’s a lot more to listen to in Autechre’s later music, and a lot less to hang onto. The music constantly mutates, so it’s hard to get bored, but if your attention drifts, it becomes ever harder to figure out how you got from one minute to the next. It’s no wonder they were embraced as much by the free improv community around the turn of the millennium. It’s music that invites a listener to boggle at its moment-to-moment inventiveness or tune it out entirely. Read the full review on Pitchfork

Atmosphere – The Family Sign
The Family Sign is a heavy, moody album. There’s not nearly as much humor here as with Atmosphere’s previous two releases, but that doesn’t make it any less of a quality addition to the group’s catalogue. Slug and Ant are, once again, in near-perfect concert with regard to their vision for what the album should sound like, and what sort of thoughts and emotions it should convey and evoke. Further, it’s fascinating to see Slug settling completely into his role of narrator—one that will assuredly continue to inspire awe for albums to come. Read the full review on Hip Hop Dx

Gorillaz – The Fall
Each track on The Fall hails from a different American city, and unlike on past Gorillaz records, the guest stars are kept to a minimum. An exception comes with perhaps the album’s best song, “Bobby In Phoenix,” a positively enchanting mix of Bobby Womack’s larger-than-life soul-man crooning and a spare, modern bed of Dirty Projectors-inspired acoustic R&B licks and synthetic textures. But the effect isn’t that different on “Revolving Doors,” where Albarn sings a Kerouac-style travelogue over a bluesy jangle and a simple hip-hop beat. The Fall’s overarching mellowness sometimes makes it difficult to sink in, but the end result is more than a tour diary. It’s as eclectic as any Gorillaz record, and nearly as rewarding over repeated listens. Read the full review on The AV Club