Masami Akita is always at his best when he is either working with a well-chosen collaborator (like Christoph Heemann or Richard Pinhas) or paying tribute to something he loves (like bondage photography or his pet chickens). This unusual and surprisingly listenable 1998 release falls squarely into the latter category, as Akita ferociously cannibalizes the progressive rock that meant so much to him as a teenager.

Sometimes the only way to move ahead is to fall behind the times. On his fifth solo album, Alasdair Roberts continues his run as one of the most eloquent advocates of traditional folk music. The eight originals on Spoils possess a ragged, arcane beauty that seem out of pace with the modern world, which makes them all the more striking.

Now Wait For Last Year is a masterpiece of understated electronic elegance. Like the hallucinatory drug JJ-180 from the Philip K. Dick novel which the album is named after, these songs have the ability to bend time, only in this case Caroline has utilized a synthesizer for the purpose of warping temporal perceptions. No heavy handed tricks or tomfoolery seem to have been used in achieving this effect. With her delicate touch, she created a pleasing batch of songs perfect for rainy evening meditations.

Piotrowicz's newest release is a relatively concise 12" single that hearkens back to his early days in a multitude of ways. The title itself translates as "Old School Made of Gold" in English, and the two songs included were originally recorded in 2010 and 2011 (but remixed this year). But even more indicative of its throwback nature is the fact that these two pieces were completely composed on modular synthesizers in a more immediate method of composition, rather than the varying techniques he has used in recent years. The final product is a single that is reminiscent to some of the earliest work I have heard from him, yet feels entirely fresh and contemporary within his discography.

As two of the more recent works from the prolific Eric Hardiman (who also performs and records as a member of Century Plants, Twilight of the Century, and a slew of other projects), Remember Me Now and Surface Language are distinctly different facets to the Rambutan project. The former is a diverse collection of instrumentation and sound, from found processed recordings, improvised percussion and guitar. The latter, however, has a more consistent focus, built from repeating motifs and loops fitting a more tautly structured composition. Both, however, capture Hardiman’s penchant for bending objects and instruments into often unexplainable sounds, yet result in nuanced compositions of melody and abstraction.

This brilliant and mind-bending solo opus by Natural Snow Buildings' Mehdi Ameziane was originally issued as an LP by Dull Knife in 2009 and sold out within hours. Fortunately, it has now been reissued and remastered and augmented with a massive amount of bonus material for those of us that weren’t fast or well-informed enough to catch it the first time around.

While perhaps known better for their lush, hazy guitar abstractions, the duo of Melissa Arpin-Duimstra and Scott Cortez are not afraid to push their sound even further into the reaches of the sonic galaxy, as this new reconstruction proves.  Originally issued on a tiny Peruvian label in 2007, Chorus was a conscious attempt to remove guitars and instrumentation, and simply work with the sound of Arpin-Duimstra’s voice.  For its reissue, the entire album is reworked yet again, using the tiniest of vocal fragments to weave a beautiful atmospheric tapestry of sound.

Recorded live in January of 2009, this collaboration is one that is more organic than a lot of what Oren Ambarchi and Jim O’Rourke are known for: no laptops here, the former only provides guitar, the latter piano. Meanwhile, Keiji Haino acts as the focus, providing his idiosyncratic vocals with flute and electronics, with the result sounding like ethnography from another planet, spiritual sounds that simply are extra terrestrial.

Philippe Petit’s recording career has always been characterized by his dual passions for reinvention and fruitful collaboration, but this audacious and imaginative album still managed to blindside me.  A turntablist/laptoppist/self-described non-musician by trade, he has nevertheless managed to produce an ambitiously wild, weird, and noise-damaged avant-jazz opus with the aid of a bevy of talented pals (including a very unexpected Graham Massey on bass clarinet).

After many years, the third instalment in Nurse With Wound’s classic Automating series of compilations has been unveiled. Digging up old nuggets from the last 26 years, this is another trip through the dustier, forgotten regions of Steven Stapleton’s back catalogue. Not quite as dazzling as the previous entries in the Automating series, this compilation still shows the strength of Nurse With Wound’s expansive approach to sound and most importantly, saves me a lot of leg work in tracking down old compilations.

The third solo album of original tunes for acoustic guitar and banjo reveals Glenn Jones as among the most likely to preserve the adventurous spirit of truly relentless guitar pioneers such as John Fahey and Robbie Basho. I habitually add review discs to my MP3 player and chuck the chaff later; but I'm keeping all these tracks.

APTBS' debut album was a collection of different EPs and singles recorded over a number of sessions; as such it was a bit rough and ready in terms of recording quality. With this follow-up, they have done their songs more justice in the studio. They have further cemented their position as New York’s loudest band but they have moved beyond simple volume wars. Under the distortion and feedback are solid songs that are as infectious as the H1N1 but no way as unpleasant.

The second collaboration between Eno and the guys from Cluster (originally released in 1978) fails to captivate in the same way as Cluster & Eno from the previous year did. Disparate in its approach to style, it feels like it is going to collapse at any moment and at times it falls flat. However, some genuinely superb moments bring After the Heat back from the brink and save it from being a poor cousin to the other work these artists have done together.

The latest from Dekorder label head Marc Richter's Black to Comm is a dense collection of multicolored cloudbursts, sizzling heat waves, and deep space pulsations. Running a Farfisa and Casio SK-5 through effects pedals, he sculpts moods rather than melodies, resulting in tracks that hover in the air at the expense of movement.

Rutger Zuydervelt's ever-prolific Machinefabriek has another new album this year, one that finds him incorporating a turntable into his hushed, sparse aesthetic alongside small melodies on guitar and piano. This, as well as other seemingly incidental sounds, gives the album much of its uniqueness.

The third album from The Drones continues from where their last album left off. There’s no shock change of style, Gala Mill is made up of the same dirty, gritty rock that seems to be the standard for bands coming from Melbourne. The album is another sturdy release from the four-piece; they falter occasionally but keep it together in fine style for the most part.

Recorded over three performances, this double album “best of” twentieth century music paired with orchestral versions of some of the better parts of the Warp catalogue is a treat. The interpretations of Aphex Twin and Squarepusher aren’t as exciting as expected but the interpretations of Cage, Reich, Ligeti, Stockhausen and Varese are better than I imagined.

From Wesley Willis and Daniel Johnston to Jacques Brodier, Martha Grunenwaldt, Oscar Haus, and Dr. Konstantin Raudive, this compilation offers a variety of music by disparate artists on the fringes of society, whose only link is their idiosyncratic artistic vision. Lacking both a formal music education and pretentiousness, these artists' creations contain enough inventiveness and passion to make accepted conventions of musicality irrelevant.

On her new album, Carla Bozulich uses her voice, strings, guitars, and well-contained distorted elements to create a rich recording full of dark lyrical imagery that haunts well after its flashes of tenderness have faded.

Despite being one of the most compelling entities to emerge from England’s fertile ‘80s post-industrial scene, Zoviet France remain a largely unheard and somewhat mythical band.  Obviously, the main reason for their relative marginalization is that their albums (aside from a few late period ambient works) have historically been quite hard to track down.  I suspect that was true even during their prime, as I am certain that I would have bought an album packaged in a canvas sack or between roofing shingles if it had appeared in one of the record stores I frequented as a teen (regardless of who it was by).  Thankfully, the magic of the Internet has rescued this lost classic from the cruel fate of vanishing without ever being properly appreciated.