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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It doesn’t take long for The Comet Is Coming to begin to deliver on their promises of unique jazz. “Space Carnival”, the album’s second track, feels almost like a dance track — with moments that feel lifted from dance and electronic records, it certainly doesn’t sound like the jazz of old.

I don’t think that’s a problem, though. You can hear in their stylings that The Comet Is Coming has a reverence for what came before. The way they handle time signatures and solos, as well as the large batch of musical ideas that may be in one song, speak to their understanding of jazz’s heritage and its creativity.

That’s not to say that the group is never recognizable as a jazz outfit. On tracks like “Journey Through the Asteroid Belt”, they wear their label proudly — even if they’re mixing it with a percussion setup that would make most DJs jealous. “Slam Dunk in a Black Hole” understands the weird side of jazz that Miles Davis explored on Bitches’ Brew, but mixes it with a techno-inspired backbeat that somehow makes the whole thing feel modern and contextual for our times.

And, of course, the solos throughout this album are amazing. The group is made up of three guys, if you aren’t familiar, and each are gifted at what they do. It’s worth mentioning their names — they’re treasures in and of themselves: “Danalogue the Conequeror” is their synthesizer. “Betamax Killer” plays drums. “King Shabaka” is the saxophonist. All three are impeccably talented. It’s hard to believe Danalogue the Conqueror is handling synth duties solo, and the sounds King Shabaka gets out of his sax are incredible.

Tracks like “Cosmic Dust” make it clear this isn’t the first record you’d want to show to your friends who are merely interested in jazz, though. This record is for people who are interested in concepts. This is jazz for fans of psychedelic music — or vice versa.

“Channel the Spirits”, the album’s titular track, sounds like a jazz track played overtop of a pummelling rock riff. It’s the fully-fleshed equivalent of a Mastodon record on mushrooms. (It’s also my favourite track on the record.) The album is all over the map, but conceptually, it’s all bound together by an idea.

I think the idea is simple: jazz still has new places to explore, new cosmos to go. The comet may be coming, and when it hits, it might wipe out jazz as we know it. But the genre is beginning its formation into something new.

The Comet is Coming’s debut record is an unmissable delight for fans of challenging, complex music that plays with form and challenges the identity of genre. The band has earned a new fan in me, and I look forward to spending much more time with their music over upcoming years.

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99.9% might not be the perfect dancing record, but it feels like it was tailor-made for the club — even when it’s being more experimental. I’m in love with Track Uno (which is, of course, the first track). Off-kilter note selections harken back to old-school jazz, but what really works is the way the loop becomes a pulsing, living thing throughout.

When Kaytranada experiments with rap and hip hop, he takes it in surprising directions. Glowed Up features Anderson .Paak, so I was expecting a bit of an R&B track, but it’s one of the hardest hitters on the record. It’s different for Kaytranada and Anderson, making 99.9% feel like a safe place for everybody to try new things, even after its halfway point.

Some of the other tracks feel old-school in a way that makes Land of the Loops feel modern. In Weight Off, for example, the dominating bass line dares to play with an Egyptian-like Dorian scale (I think it’s the Dorian scale, any way), offering a sound that’s both vintage and unique at the same time.

And it moves perfectly into One Too Many, which feels perfect for a good dance night. And if you’re not dancing to it, it makes a perfect song for driving around the city late at night, or playing Grand Theft Auto.

For a debut release, 99.9% is exceptionally polished, well above and beyond what most artists would ever consider attempting for round one. But Kaytranada is a whole different beast. The album is fantastic — often sensual, often club-ready, and always rich with vocal appearances that really do add to the tone of the record. This is a debut electronic record that’s not to be missed.

Oh, and we mention how wicked the album art is yet?

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All of that makes The King of Limbs makes it hard to recommend to casual fans of the band. It lacks most of what made them successful, often becoming twitchy. Like most Radiohead records, people were confused by it — particularly the (still hilarious) video for Lotus Flower. But some now consider the video, the song, and the surrounding record a classic.

I’ve long thought The King of Limbs to be Radiohead’s quirkiest record, the one that always felt the most uncomfortable for them to make. It’s an album based largely on rhythm, almost entirely removing the melody from the lyrics in favour of the loop. Some people would jokingly (or maybe not jokingly, I’m not sure) suggest TKOL is everything the band warned us about with OK Computer.

Despite all the issues with it, it’s a charming record. Radiohead had become much better at jazz-like moments like this. Bloom’s erratic drumbeat is at once as hard to follow as it is Miles Davis-like. Morning Mr. Magpie follows a similarly difficult rhythm, this time using guitars as a punctuation points for the loop. Thom Yorke doesn’t choose to blend in with instrumentation, but to use his voice as a way to elevate the music and give it a sense of direction.

The album’s best tracks are the quieter, more introspective moments. Give up the Ghost is one of Radiohead’s best tracks, excelling with a (comparatively) minimalistic soundscape, drenching Yorke’s voice in reverb and delay to give it maximum impact.

Amnesiac, Radiohead’s followup to Kid A, featured Humphrey Lyttelton on one track. Johnny Greenwood (Radiohead’s not-so-secret songwriting weapon) admitted in an interview with Spanish newspaper Mondosonoro, “we realized we couldn’t play jazz. You know, we’ve always been a band of great ambition with limited playing abilities.” This is why they had to bring in an expert.

I’ve always thought that bothered Radiohead. That’s not to insult their musicianship; the folks in the band are genuinely incredibly talented. But it’s difficult to admit your weak areas without wanting to improve them. I think The King of Limbs is their way of writing a jazz record in the style of Radiohead. Naturally, their focus is on the beat, and on the polyrhythms and the madness of the Miles Davis records they so frequently talk about adoring.

In that sense, The King of Limbs feels remarkable, special even. It’s a record that completely defies what everybody thinks Radiohead should do, ditching guitars and melody almost entirely. While they had proved to everybody they weren’t just a rock band, The King of Limbs is undisputed proof that they can do anything they want and do it well. Maybe it’s coming from a place of unease or unrest, and maybe it’s coming from a desire to continue to push the limits. I have no doubt that it’s all of those things and many more.

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Untouchable Skin isn’t doing anything new, but while other electronic producers are experimenting with avant-grade genre-pushing boundaries, it’s great to see somebody stick with what works. Grenda’s rhythmic pulsing music is both trip-hop and electro-pop, with strong hints of techno throughout. It’s often mesmerizing.

Element of Risk is his first single, and with an aggressive drum track, it sounds like the marrying of Trent Reznor and Flume. But it’s also incredibly visual music, music that you can “see” as you listen.

At the same time, the inescapable weakest link in Amezcua’s music is the vocal work. Tracks where his singing is dominant don’t work as well as the electronic efforts. Thankfully, it sounds like he’s realized this: he uses his voice to amplify the electronic work, matching and harmonizing in simple ways that sound like an electronic version of what Ozzy Osbourne was originally doing in Black Sabbath fifty years ago.

It’s a good call: vocals-as-texture is an appropriate approach here, especially since the album feels like an experiment in textural loops and minor variations on themes. Blind Folded is another great example: his voice does minor backing duties to the instruments, which are densely packed in maximalist fashion, as if Grenda is challenging us to suggest another way he could layer everything.

Dry Lips is a standout track as well because it reveals Grenda’s attention to detail: he’s a self-aware electronic producer that is far more advanced than many of his older peers. And while his vocabulary is limited (Higher sounds like many other tracks on the record, for example), his ability to marry elements into dense packages that each feel unique gets him very far.

The biggest question for Grenda is simple: what comes next? As great as Untouchable Skin is, it feels like a clear exploration of a single theme. If he can continue to expand his sounds, Amezcua is going to have a great future with this electronic work.

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Each of the tracks here is pretty long, with the longest one six seconds shy of twelve minutes, but it’s worth a listen all the way through with good headphones on. Like all great glitch music, Hopkins is writing songs that build and layer intricately, getting lost in repetition like your favourite techno.

While a lot of people love tracks like Collider and Form By Firelight, which are really glitchy, I prefer the moments where Jon pulls back a little bit. Form By Firelight actually has some great moments where he explores quieter sections, but I could live in Breathe This Air’s more somber moments and the quiet build of Immunity. (Actually, Immunity might be enough to bring some of us to tears. Something about the piano as it builds over glitchy sound effects is just so emotionally powerful.)

If you need good work music, or simply want to be blown away by a quiet hour spent wearing good headphones and listening to fascinating music, you’d be hard-pressed to find better.

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Chet’s a master of blending jazz, blues, and a hint of electronic experimentation into an enjoyable cocktail that goes down smooth. His voice has tons of soul, belying his years — he’s not even thirty. What’s most impressive is that Built on Glass is his debut feature-length record, which — considering his vast array of musical influences — is shocking.

The opening track, Release Your Problems, is a great introduction to the record — heavy-hitting, but still catchy — but I could ultimately write a long essay about this album’s many successes. The record is neatly divided by a vocal track simply titled / , but the first half is sprinkled with great songs like Gold and To Me, which has as lovely saxophone emphasis.

The second half of the record really shines. Blush is a stunner. My favourite track off any of the records featured this week, though, is Cigarettes & Loneliness, which is a lush and beautiful look at the most difficult and sad of feelings. Although it’s the least likely to get radio play, Cigarettes & Loneliness feels like it’s really the pivot point of the entire record. Steeped in sadness and buried in synth tones, this is Faker at his most experimental and exploratory. It’s an immensely rewarding listen.

One album in, and it already feels like Chet Faker is one of the genre’s most eclectic and interesting artists. Built on Glass is a stunner, and one that doesn’t feel like it could possibly shatter.

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Regardless, Moby is releasing a new record in October called Innocents (Wikipedia link). I’ve heard it’s the bomb. In prep, you might as well listen to his best record, Everything Is Wrong. Some people are going to remember this album for the real trend-setting hits, like Feeling So Real or Everytime You Touch Me. Maybe they’ll remember it for the edgier tracks like What Love. That’s all cool, but for me, the album really stands out thanks to three quieter songs.

Into the Blue charms with its swooning vocals and driving bass. God Moving Over the Face of the Waters is self-aware of its beauty, but that’s okay because it is incredibly beautiful. But for me, the real star track of the entire album, the one that hits the hardest, is When It’s Cold I’d Like to Die. It sends shivers down my spine.

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Trent Reznor’s work here is obviously influenced by his more electronic Nine Inch Nails records, which I love. In fact, some songs — like In Motion — are remixes of work from Nine Inch Nail’s Ghosts (which is also a fantastic record).

Hand Covers Bruise is drenched in melancholy, but A Familiar Taste is dripping with angst. The Gentle Hum of Anxiety is a perfect title for one of the most anxiety-inducing bits of music from a film I’ve ever heard. But at the end of the day, the track you most need to hear from this is the cover of In the Hall of the Mountain King.

If there was ever an obvious pairing, it’s Trent Reznor and David Fincher. Both of them are fascinated by using digital techniques to improve what are traditionally analogue mediums. While both are praised by fans and critics, there’s also a left-wing conservative group of people in both mediums who say they’re going against what music and film is all about. But it doesn’t matter. With The Social Network in particular, they’ve made their piece de resistance: a piece of digital art in an analogue framework about a movement to make real relationships more digital and artificial. There’s something beautiful about that.

Film soundtracks are interesting because they rarely stand on their own. The Social Network not only stands on its own, but it’s one of my all-time favourite albums — and perhaps my favourite electronic album of all time.

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