French Kiwi Juice is a special record. It’s electronic music, yes, but its appeal lies so far beyond that. Hip hop fans are going to find a lot to love here. (Based on “Skyline” alone, I’m hoping Chance the Rapper taps FKJ to write a few beats for him.) Jazz fans will find a lot to love too — listen to the saxophone in “We Ain’t Feeling Time”!

French Kiwi Juice embraces loops, but it’s so texturally nuanced that it’s hard to describe it in those terms. It’s easy to see why the album is getting embraced all over social media: it’s transcendent.

“Lying Together” riffs off hip hop. “Die with a Smile” feels like vintage jazz music coming together with electronic synths.

Without a doubt, part of the lightning in the bottle comes from FKJ’s Parisian background. There’s such a mixture of culture and ideas here that the music could only come from Europe. FKJ is at a point where he’s still sucking up great ideas. The producer is still in his mid-twenties, at a point where he’s not done grabbing inspiration from wherever it’s available to him.

The best tracks on the record, for me, are the jazzy ones and the oddities. I love “Go Back Home”, which has a pop-influenced chorus and a glitchy beat that would have belonged in Kanye West beats circa 2003.

It’s hard to talk in depth about FKJ’s debut. It doesn’t have the raw vocal power of any of the most-talked about musicians of the past couple years. But his textural take on French house is so superb that it bears discussion only in superlatives.

I can’t recommend French Kiwi Juice enough. It’s one of the most consistently exhilarating debuts of the past couple years, and it’s been on steady repeat for the past two weeks.

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For a Westerner like myself, the sounds of Russia and Algeria are (no pun intended) completely foreign. They use non traditional scales and key signatures, making Vinculum feel deeper and more mysterious than it might to people who are already deeply familiar with the regions’ music.

But were I to guess, I’d assume Vinculum would even be surprising for folks who are already aware of Bartok and Tchaikovsky. The album mixes original Bartok recordings from Algeria, new orchestral recordings, and electronics and unique performances from Ellis Cage. It’s a heady brew.

In many ways, I am reminded of mid-century jazz music. Daring and inspired, but certainly not for everybody, Vinculum is all about exploration. It’s about pushing the boundaries, while remaining conceptually bound to the original songs and sounds.

Similarly, jazz was trying to expand the vocabulary of the music without entirely abandoning the traditional work that came before. Jazz players wanted to introduce the genre to new people without totally abandoning their existing audience.

Ellis Cage’s Vinculum is playing along these lines. It’s at once familiar: classical compositions surrounded by electronic ambience. Today, this isn’t an unfamiliar sound. But Ellis brings it, thanks to the unique sounds of Russia and Algeria, to a new level of creativity.

There is something fundamentally uneasy going on throughout Vinculum, a constant point of tension that makes the music both discomforting and enthralling. It grabs you and doesn’t let you go. There are no standout tracks because they flow together. Without iTunes notifications telling me when the track had changed, I’m not sure I’d be aware the track had changed at all. So it’s impossible to recommend a single track, but it is easy to recommend the album as a whole.

Vinculum isn’t for everybody. It might not be to your taste; I’m somewhat surprised it’s to mine. It’s dark, ambitious, and sometimes difficult to approach. But there’s a majesty and mystery to it that few other independent composers are able to put on display.

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Alejandro Bento is a tremendous pianist. Each track on the album shows him demonstrating a wide range of skills, but “Mar” is the track that most impresses me. Bento plays through a ten minute track that feels more like a brief suite than it does a single track, with a simple theme that Bento pushes beyond its limitations and into new and exciting places.

Bento’s also an incredibly dynamic pianist. His music stays interesting because of the masterful control that he has over the power of his fingers, allowing the volume to ebb and flow with seemingly little effort. He plays with so much grace that it’s easy to listen to the album on repeat, picking up minor things you hadn’t noticed on each new listen.

In many ways, Bento reminds me of some of Nils Frahm’s older work. But where Nils Frahm dove deep into electronic, Bento takes a different approach.

The most interesting track on the record, though, is the surprisingly well-done Robot Koch remix of “Rain”. The remix takes the song in an entirely new direction. It’s an elegant mix of electronic music and traditional classical.

I think the folks at Subtempo Records must have agreed with me, because this week also sees the release or Ripples Remixed, a seven-track collection of remixes by artists who are pushing the bounds of what’s possible with electronic music. The remixes are as elegant and beautiful as the original music — which is a surprising (and triumphant) surprise.

In many ways, it’s easier to love the remixes than it is the original. I suspect everybody will find something to love in the remixes, and the original record will appeal largely to fans of modern classical.

The remixes add a lot of texture to what was already a very textured record, giving an impression of added depth and meaning to each track.

You can listen to Ripples on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

You can listen to Ripples Remixes on Apple Music, iTunes, Soundcloud, and Spotify.

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And for good reason. Sampha is one of the most talented performers to come out of Britain in recent memory.

Process is his debut solo record. Unlike the music where he’s provided one voice among many, Process is a chance for Sampha to open up and get personal. And boy, does he get personal. Process sees Sampha dealing with the loss of his mother to cancer in 2015 — and consequently, reflecting on the death of his father from cancer in 1998. The songs are intensely emotional, occasionally dark, but almost always revelatory.

Like any good novel would, each track on Process reveals something new about its central character. And Sampha is one of the best storytellers in the business right now. The album’s lead single, “(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano” is one of the most beautiful ballads of the past five years, and it feels like you’re being given Sampha’s private diary.

It doesn’t hurt that his music is so good. While the emotions are raw, the production is anything but. Everything is smooth as butter. Sampha’s voice is amazing — velvety smooth, but rich and textured at the same time.

The album is also difficult to define. It’s one thing to call Process electronic music, but Sampha also frequently dabbles in R&B. Precisely labelling his music is like fitting a square peg into the hole of some complex, hard-to-recognize shape.

At his best, on tracks like “Kora Sings” or “Blood On Me”, Sampha channels the best in his genre. There are times when he sounds like Chet Faker, and others when he sounds like Frank Ocean’s more organic-sounding cousin. Each track is surprising and engrossing, and none of them overstay their welcome.

With unbridled creative enthusiasm, Sampha isn’t interested in defining a genre or fitting into one. He’s making R&B-influenced electronic that defies explanation, but that’s fitting for a clear first contender for Album of the Year.

What Sampha has done, beyond all that, is something tangibly more difficult: he’s captivated us. He’s earned our attention. In 2017, Sampha has made a forty-minute album feel ten minutes long. It’s over in a breeze, and it never feels like it’s repeating itself.

Without a doubt, Process is an incredible success.

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The entire soundtrack is in a similar vein to the Ghosts record from Nine Inch Nails. Some tracks are longer than others, but when they are, they feel like four or five songs pieced together from a single nebulous idea. “Monolith”, the first track, is the perfect example of that: the song twists and turns for over six minutes, but it never feels like it abandons its premise.

In other ways, No Man’s Sky is as exploratory as the game it’s based on. No Man’s Sky, the game, is an exploratory game that challenges the player to move from the outer rim of the galaxy towards the centre, exploring potentially billions of planets on the way, cobbling together better spacecrafts, learning alien languages, and fighting for survival in harsh planetary conditions. No Man’s Sky, the soundtrack, asks a simple question: “How can music capture the same feeling of exploration?”

In that sense, the soundtrack’s greatest success is that it doesn’t feel like it repeats itself. Obviously, there are basic themes and motifs that often carry from one song to the next. Some tracks sound like they run into each other — the rhythms, in particular, often feel similar from one song to the next. But like any great soundtrack, these familiar notes don’t dominate the record. They’re used as catchphrases. They allow the listener to feel rooted in something familiar, even when the explored territory is alien or novel.

At many points throughout the soundtrack, I’ve wondered how this music would fit in a video game. The music is bombastic and calls attention to itself, and would feel out of place even in a superhero flick.

As a result, the soundtrack for No Man’s Sky stands alone. Experience with the video game isn’t a prerequisite for enjoyment. It’s what makes the music work.

No Man’s Sky: Music for an Infinite Universe is the perfect music for those of us who like ambient music that we can sink our teeth into when we want, or need, to think. It’s one of the best soundtrack releases of 2016.

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Take “Hard Liquor”, the opening track. It’s more energetic than anything was on Tremors, with a beat and chorus that get stuck on your head for days. (I also love the “tremor” beat at the beginning of the track; it’s an acknowledgement of where SOHN is coming from even while he’s revealing where he’s going).

“Conrad”, on the other hand, melds this energy with a blues and soul rhythm that captures the style du jour without betraying SOHN’s sensibilities. That reveals a trend throughout the album: while SOHN’s electronic sound is always more soothing and restrained than some of his contemporaries, he’s not afraid to embrace trends.

At the same time, though, not everything here is trendy. “Proof” sounds like old-school Justin Timberlake melded with some of Radiohead’s ambitious stylings, a sound that certainly won’t be popular with many. Similarly, “Falling” feels like the most percussive track on Rennen. It reminds me so much of what Radiohead was doing with In Rainbows, or what Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor were playing with on The Social Network soundtrack.

For me, these tracks are the ones where SOHN eschews trends and embraces what he loves. They are, without a doubt, the best tracks on the record for my taste. But that’s not to say the rest of the record is bad; arguably, the presence of catchy and mainstream tracks like “Hard Liquor” make the experimentation of “Falling” so much sweeter.

The album’s pacing is impeccable. If there’s one thing that SOHN’s inarguably gotten better at, it’s pacing his record. It was hard to listen to Tremors on a loop. Each track was good, but the record’s overall pacing was fatiguing. With Rennen, that’s not the case.
I know many will disagree — and a lot of other critics already have — but I think Rennen is, taken as a whole, a better record than Tremors. It’s more accessible and has a stronger pacing, and SOHN is able to maintain his impeccable production and style even while he embraces more mainstream sounds.

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For Before the Flood, a new documentary about global warming from Leonardo DiCaprio, Trent and Atticus have expanded their traditional boundaries. Before the Flood is the first time they’ve worked with “outsiders” on music, bringing in Mogwai and Gustavo Santaolalla (the composer behind Brokeback Mountain).

This lends an additional touch to the compositions. Gustavo’s horn work and textural abilities are a good match for the aesthetic qualities of Reznor and Ross. Mogwai’s tracks feel as if they come from an entirely different perspective, but rather than clashing with the other compositions, they add a variety that otherwise wouldn’t exist.

What’s most interesting about Mogwai’s tracks is how optimistic they sound, by comparison. Reznor and Ross are known for making uneasy music — or music that starts laid back and quickly decomposes — but Mogwai has a whole different feel. Check out “Ghost Nets”, a Mogwai track that’s bookended by the Reznor and Ross’s more “traditional” “And When the Sky Was Opened” and “Trembling”. “Ghost Nets” is an entirely different track, without the same elements of unease that riddle the others.

This is the variety that makes the record work as a whole. Unlike Trent and Atticus’s soundtrack for Gone Girl, which was both beautiful and exhausting, Before the Flood is easy to absorb as a whole. I firmly believe this is because of Mogwai’s contributions — the unsung heroes of the record.

You don’t need to watch Before the Flood to enjoy the music on stage here. In fact, I didn’t (and haven’t). I’m not even sure the documentary has premiered yet (I think it’s a television premiere to boot, and we don’t have cable). But even without seeing it, the level of sobriety on hand here — the hope for our planet’s future and the fear of its potential destruction — is plainly evident.

This is, in my opinion, the best work that Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have done together since The Social Network. It’s already become a staple in my ambient music collection.

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That’s the most stunning part of Tycho: the largely synth-heavy work is exquisitely detailed and layered, but it expresses visuals the same way the soundtrack for Stranger Things does.

Because it’s synth-heavy, many people call Tycho background noise. I don’t think the music has ever been purely background noise. It’s layered sounds and intricate mixing — as well as Hansen’s attention to detail — demand closer listening. That’s truer than ever on Epoch.

Epoch is a harsher record than Dive or Awake, but not in a negative fashion. The album is more percussive. “Horizon” has a stronger backbeat than any of the previous work, and the synth elements take on a more drum-like intensity.

None of that is to say that the music is darker or more sinister than it used to be. Tracks like “Receiver” are familiar and pleasant — and there are many songs like it throughout the record. But Epoch does feel more percussive overall.

Scott Hansen’s work continues to stand out and succeed because of its optimism. Unlike so many of his contemporaries, Hansen’s vision of the world is uplifting and positive. His music feels like a positive force in the world. While it occupies the same mental space as Trent Reznor’s instrumental work, it occupies an entirely different emotional space.

Because Epoch carries this same tradition, there isn’t a noticeable slump in quality. Listening to Dive, Awake, and Epoch as a whole feels like a single vision. It’s three albums, but they’re all sharing the same vision for our society. They all have the same values.

As an addition to Tycho’s repertoire, Epoch is a can’t-miss for fans and newcomers alike. Whether Hansen considers this an ending to a trilogy or a single step in an ongoing journey is unclear, but it’s obvious that he hasn’t run out of things to say — even while remaining completely wordless.

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In other words, the track titles force us to talk about the album as a whole.

And as a cohesive whole, 22, A Million is worth talking about. Remember how weird it was when Bon Iver started singing on Kanye West tracks? It didn’t make sense then, but it does with 22, A Million. The transition is now complete. Bon Iver, Bon Iver was a stepping stone towards this, and in retrospect, it feels like an awkward sophomore attempt. This was always the future.

Justin Vernon interest in fusing electronic music and folk goes back to the beginning. And can you blame him? He recorded For Emma, Forever Ago on his laptop. Electronic sounds are an obvious direction to pursue.

Many of the tracks on 22, A Million exemplify this change. “10 d E A T h b R E a s T “, “33 ‘GOD’”, and “715 – CREEKS” are easy examples. What’s incredible about the tracks isn’t just Vernon’s unbridled creativity, but the fact that he actually pulled it all together. He made something beautiful out of all of this.

In a lot of ways, it’s fitting that we first got hints of this new Bon Iver sound from his performances with Kanye West. With 22, A Million, it feels like Bon Iver is trying to make a similar statement of creativity and power. This is Bon Iver’s 808s & Heartbreak. People might revile the record now, but we’ll look back on it with fondness as the turning of a corner.

If that comparison doesn’t resonate for you, it’d be fair to compare the album to Radiohead’s Kid A. It’s as if Justin Vernon said that too much of the folk scene sounds the same, that he didn’t want to add to the noise, and he wanted to make a change.

That change ripples through every track no this record. It’s almost impossible to talk about them individually. Lyrically, Vernon continues to be somewhat cryptic. But despite the distance that the electronics introduces, his voice feels more intimate and earthy than ever.

“8 (circle)” is a great example. Vernon’s voice makes it feel like the song is a private performance, but the electronics give the song a spacious depth it would otherwise lack.

It’s all so fitting for Justin Vernon, a man who seems bound to his neurosis of musical self-doubt, uncertainty, and reinvention. 22, A Million is a record about the ripples new sounds introduce, and the butterfly effects they create. It’s a beautiful record that’s reminiscent of watershed moments of the past, but only time will tell how we remember it.

As for me, I don’t want to be on the wrong side of history. 22, A Million could go down as Bon Iver’s first masterpiece.

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Oliva Tremor Control

Music from the Unrealized Film Script: Dusk at Cubist Castle

This album is a psychedelic -pop masterpiece. Overflowing with ideas, this record found a way to marry sound collage and concise songwriting without every seeming forced or laboured. It is like Badfinger and Karlheinz Stockhausen rolled into one.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

David Sylvian

Manafon

I have been on a kick with these later David Sylvian records. This and Blemish are my current favourites. I adore the atmosphere he creates with the musicians (Christian Fennesz, Evan Parker, Toshimaru Nakamura, etc.) and how brave he is in leaving space and letting sounds hang. This isn’t an easy record to listen to. The subject matter is quite dark, but for some reason I find myself drawn to it. In a way, it is so bleak that it makes me feel better about the world.

Listen: Amazon

OLD

The Musical Dimensions of Sleastak

In 1993 I was listening to a lot of death metal and indie rock and nothing sounded as strange and otherworldly as this record. I think James Plotkin is consistently brilliant and I love Alan Dubin’s vocals/lyrics. It is constantly morphing. It is a harsh, organic, and truly psychedelic listening experience. The final track, “Backwards Through the Greedo Compressor” is a real mind-melter of studio mix improvisation.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Andy J. Lloyd (bass)

Julianna Barwick

Nepenthe

The most beautiful vocals imaginable, structured into perfect topographical dreamscapes.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Max Richter

From Sleep

A master composer creating endlessly simple and beautiful sounds, masterfully.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Nailbiter

Formats

Punishing awesomeness, delivered without apology, but with style.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Spotify

Jon Maki (drums)

Flower-Corsano Duo

You'll Never Work In This Town Again

I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing the Flower-Corsano Duo live twice. Once in Toronto and again in Helsinki. Both shows were absolutely blistering. Being a drummer, Chris Corsano blows my mind every time I see him. This self-released live recording is a really good representation of what you should expect from the aural magic created by just a Bulbul tarang (Indian banjo) and drums/percussion.

Bola Sete

Ocean Memories

Bola Sete is one of my favourite unsung artists and one of my favourite artists in general. John Fahey originally put this album out on his Takoma label in 1975, but this 2 CD reissue has an additional disc of unreleased recordings. Some of the most beautiful guitar work you’ll ever hear in your life.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon

Laura Spiegel

The Expanding Universe

One of the earliest and most compelling computer based albums to reach my ears. Composed from 1974–1976. Her ambient music truly does lead to expansion of your mind’s universe.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Tim Condon (keys, guitar)

The Necks

Drive By

I discovered The Necks by seeing them at the Spitz in London (UK), one of the most conducive-to-a-good-show venues anywhere in the world. They were extraordinary. The next time I saw them was at the Corner Hotel, in Melbourne, on a hot January night (I think it was 44c), and the air conditioning had broken down. Not conducive to listening to an at times small, quiet, slow and building improvised musical experience. But yet they were equally as extraordinary. They are the best band in the world at making you forget where you, and they are, and being held, immersed in their world of texture, melody and space. Every album of theirs is incredible, but Drive By is a great starting point, especially when traveling long distances.

Listen: iTunes / Amazon

Alessandro Cortini

Sonno

I find it insulting to call this “experimental” – this album is filled with musical experiences that are familiar to anyone who has experienced heartbreak, sadness, loneliness or isolation. This is not experimental – upon first listen it is instantly familiar and innate. The saddest, most fractured and gorgeous of melodies, all tripped up by noise, static and orchestrated by a mechanical sequence. The opening track, “Rovine” says a million words in seven and a half minutes. Sadly gorgeous throughout.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Fire! With Jim O'Rourke

Are You Still Both Unreleased?

Fire! just use Mats Gustafsson’s atonal, nagging, persistent, pained and screaming saxophone to blast forward, destroying any hesitation over what the fuck is going on. It’s just happening. Try putting this on (in particular opening track “Are You Both Still Unreleased?”) at a decent volume and watching how many people are physically repelled by how blunt, brutal and difficult this music is.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

Oren Ambarchi

Sagittarian Domain

Ambarchi continues to astound and astound (in particular in 2012, when this album was released, alongside 9 other releases he put out that year) uses repetition and layers to push forward, moving past any contemporaries with grace.

Elsewhere in 2012, Oren Ambarchi teamed up with Fire! for their album In The Mouth – A Hand. 2012 was a pretty great year.

Listen: iTunes / Apple Music / Amazon / Spotify

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