Montreal's CFCF made his name with remixes for the likes of HEALTH, Sally Shapiro and the Presets, and that versatility shows through on his debut album, which combines elements of disco, downbeat and electro-pop with clever hooks and a keen ear for the perfect sample. Acid house jitter and psychedelic bliss turn "Monolith" into a silicon dreamscape, while tracks like "Big Love" and "Half Dreaming" dive deeper into piano-driven jams. Restrained in its sonics, the record sounds like an artist finding his voice, but there's a refreshing intimacy in what CFCF has chosen to share.
Even if you're used to "Ritual Union" as the lead track from Little Dragon's third album, don't neglect this bewitching single, released shortly before the LP. The song, if you don't know it, is Motown by way of The XX with extra Moogs, dubbed-out pop with a neon outline and a classic shape. Neo-disco upstart Tensnake defies expectations with a remix that sounds like low-budget dubstep, while Magnetic Man protects the Casiotone home front. But it's Maya Jane Coles' remix you need to hear: Slouchy and insouciant, it's a new role for the rising deep-house star, proving her versatility yet again.
Munich's Permanent Vacation label may not seem to take life too seriously, between the name and the self-deprecating compilation title. And sure, they can be slackers, lingering in the lower BPMs and spacing out on synthesizer curlicues. But John Talabot, Mano Le Tough and their labelmates prove to be avid students of classic house, giving their low-slung funk and robo-disco a rigor lacking in most new jacks. They tick all the right boxes -- luminous pianos, scuffed disco breaks, clattery 808s -- but they also know when to set aside the books and cut loose. Now that's edutainment.
With each new release, Sam Goldberg's Radio People project moves from abstract synth-drone to more of a synth-pop aesthetic, one that embraces traditional conceptions of melody, groove and even beauty. As a result, Hazel recalls Jean Michel Jarre more than it does Conrad Schnitzler. As a composer and musician, Goldberg's timing is impeccable; his architectonic runs -- spacey in a gentle way -- never unfold too quickly or slowly. The record is instrumental for the most part. However, its final track, "Patience," contains some wonderfully tranquil vocal patterns that feel inspired by Eno.
Grouper's music has always been aquatic. But where the Portland musician's looping pedals once rumbled like the stones in a muddy creek bed, "Water People" drifts through cool, limpid waters. Where once there was only reverb and hum, her guitar-picking now takes a definitive shape, and you can even (almost) make out the words, if you lean in. It's still a profoundly lonesome sound, just clearer and sweeter, like echoes of Low wafting up from the bottom of a cistern.
A true analog savant, Legowelt surrounded himself with vintage synths in his studio in the Hague, recorded one of the year's finest techno albums, and released it as a pay-what-you-will dealie on his own website. Why not? There's plenty more where that came from. For instance, this sublime, acidic three-tracker for New York's L.I.E.S. imprint. "Backwoods Fantasies" is Autechre by way of Juan Atkins, while "Sea of Nuhuhu" rages like a waterspout off Lake Michigan; the title track is 1992 through rose-tinted lenses, as lyrical as techno gets.
The summery vibes of CFCF's 2009 album Continent, plus titles like "You Hear Colours," led some listeners to lump him in with the chillwave phenomenon, but the Montreal artist owes a greater debt to dance music than many of his contemporaries. Single "Cometrue" is a retro double-take, filtering mid-'90s piano house through the lens of late-'90s 2-step garage, and it's a gorgeous example of dancefloor balladry -- a little bit Ben Watt, a little bit Burial.
Travis Stewart has been parsing hip-hop beats and twitchy electro as Machinedrum for a decade, and on his first album for Planet Mu, the project returns reinvigorated, sounding almost reborn. He's borrowed his lickety-split syncopations from Chicago juke music and modeled his soaring vocal samples on Joy Orbison's ecstatic style, but the end result is unique. Machinedrum's breakbeats move with a rare energy, and the synths and voices add vivid color and lush, seductive texture; tracks like "GBYE" tell you all you need to know about his vision of futurist R&B.
Mike Simonetti founded the New Jersey hardcore label Troubleman Unlimited in 1993, and he runs the disco-influenced imprint Italians Do It Better, home to Chromatics and Glass Candy. His debut album is a rich, reverent ode to synth-pop at its most timeless. "Song for Luca" drinks from the same melancholy font as Superpitcher or Lawrence; "Dust Devil" pays tribute to Mike Oldfield's "Tubular Bells." The opener, featuring Sam Sparro, is a candy-colored, slow-motion ambient disco whirligig; "Aculpoco," a reprise, calls to mind 10cc and medieval motets against a backdrop of birdsong.
Little Dragon have evolved from quiet students of soulful downtempo to the cool kids of electro-pop with third album Ritual Union. The Swedish band gets its edge from singer Yukimi Nagano, who makes everything sound invitingly exotic -- when she coyly demands, "Please turn," you better believe you will. Wacky clanks, sliding notes and reverberating bass round out the dreamy Casio-pop experience, which seamlessly flows from playful, mid-tempo lounge-funk ("Little Man," "Summertearz") to sleek, upbeat club fare ("Shuffle a Dream," "Nightlight").
Geneva's Agnes is known by many names: Ray Valioso, Benelli, Modeste, Torpedoman. Here he presents the debut full-length as Cavalier, an alias reserved for Zurich's Drumpoet Community label. In keeping with the imprint's remit, A Million Horses gallops confidently into the past to graze on the deeply rooted house of '90s Chicago and New York. That's hardly a new idea, but Cavalier's crisp drum programming and moody atmospheres keep things fresh and engaging across 80 minutes of prime at-home clubbing, from slo-mo stumblers to starry-eyed, high-stepping grooves.
Like his labelmate Actress, Lukid belongs to an elastic patch of cosmos that defies the usual laws -- samples and synthesizers, hip-hop and techno all crumpling together, grainy and aglow. Where Lukid's LPs explore slack tempos, this single keeps the dancefloor grimly in its sights. "Park It Low" is the highlight, with droning synths, vocal fillips and faintly African guitar suggesting a desiccated Four Tet. That track tips its hat to Moodymann, while "Spitting Bile" and "Dragon Stout" are raw and unkempt, the kind of things they'll build future Nuggets comps around.
