This fourth full-length by the revered (yet somewhat chameleonic) David Lettelier takes his techno in a simpler and more spacious direction than its 2011 predecessor (OR) with varying degrees of success.  While I have seen this effort compared to early Autechre or referred to as "IDM" or "retro" several times, it does not feel much like a deliberate nostalgia trip at all to me.  Such reference points are not exactly off-base, but Solens Arc often seems much more like Lettelier has merely discovered that a throbbing, non-intrusive rhythmic backdrop is the perfect framework for presenting his more experimental leanings.

Face Without Face, to me, is the musical equipment of a genre film. It pairs a respected master (Negru Voda) with a relatively new artist (Knös) in a split release of harsh European electronics that offers no surprises nor earth shattering developments, but accomplishes what it intends to. Muffled, bleak and rhythmic, this split is a great throwback to the Tesco/Cold Meat Industry scene from the late 1990s.

2013 was an uncharacteristically quiet year for Horseback. While leader Jenks Miller released a solo record and the band put out a three disc compilation of limited and unreleased material, that was about it. The result of that hiatus is Piedmont Apocrypha, an album that hits many of the touchstones Horseback has worked with before, but as an evolved, more nuanced album that is polished and more complex than what preceded it.

In his 29 year career, Francisco López’s work could never be described as accessible. His treatment and processes of both organic and synthetic sound sources have ranged from pensive to painful, and everything in between those extremes. This, however, may be his most daunting work to date: a data DVD of uncompressed wave files and a total of seven hours. The 17 "quiet" pieces are challenging, yet captivate when experienced in the right context.

There are a few reasons why I am so late to the party on Daryl Groetsch's work, but the primary one is that I first heard about him in the early 2000s, when he was appearing on albums with titles like All I Want for Xmas is Bowel Disrupting Noise and Underwater Corpse.  Consequently, his transformation into one the premier purveyors of kosmische-inspired long-form analog synthesizer voyages went entirely unnoticed by me.  Another reason, unfortunately, is that Pulse Emitter has a dangerous tendency to veer into cloyingly saccharine New Age territory, as he sometimes does here.

It has taken me entirely too long to get around to covering a Petrels album, but London composer/multimedia artist Oliver Barrett's third opus turned out to be an ideal place to start.  Due to the complex and heavily processed nature of these pieces, the closest reference point is probably someone like Tim Hecker, yet Barrett's epic scope; talent for texture, dynamics, and melody; and passion for deep and unusual concepts place both Petrels and Mima in a category all their own.

As much as it pains me deeply to use this adjective, this Manchester duo seem to specialize in something resembling hypnagogic techno. At the very least, they attempt to refract more conventional techno sounds through a drugged/half-asleep/eyes closed/out-of-body sensibility that is seemingly all their own.  That is a tricky feat to pull off though, as the line separating "ghostly and diffuse" from "boring, forgettable, and easy to ignore" is quite a narrow one.  Fortunately, both of these EPs are likable (if flawed) in their own right and admirably a bit beyond the pale, but the newer New Brutalism is significantly more sharply realized than its predecessor.

Utilizing the sound of tuning forks, a method of generating tones that goes back far into history, Nicolas Bernier places them in a motorized, computer controlled installation that belies the simplicity of its core. The single piece moves quickly, evolving from the simple resonating tones to a dense, complex synthesis of the naturally captured resonance and the computerized processing of the pure source material.

Joao Da Silva’s Luciernaga project has been active only a relatively short time thus far, with releases dating back to 2010, and obviously material here going back even further. This disc compiles selections from ultra limited cassettes, split releases, and unreleased work that stands out well in the often crowded field of ambient drone works. Nicely alternating between harshness and soft, gauzy textures, the result is a dynamic and cohesive collection of material.

The material that makes up Voyeur dates back to 2008, when Celer was at their most prolific as a duo. Intended to be a film score, the sound of this album is in league with the contemporaneous work they were putting out, but there is a distinctly different feel to this album, possibly due to its conceptual framing, or perhaps because of the project’s more conservative release schedule as of late.

The single piece that makes up this album began life three years ago as part of Szczepanik's hand-made, subscription based Ante Algo Azul series. Expanded from its original 18 minute duration to a full 53 minute length, it maintains the identity of the original work while building upon it dramatically. This new version in some ways feels like simply more, and in this case that is a perfectly good way to rework the piece.

This trio from Tel Aviv has created driving and airy songs suffused with somewhat doom-laden yet inspiring vocals, hollow rhythms, and gauzey guitar, for an album which could easily masquerade as a release from 1980s Manchester or Glasgow.

This Brooklyn-based composer's debut release for Students of Decay is quite an unusual effort, placing its emphasis most prominently on frequently untreated field recordings of natural spaces (as well as a few unnatural ones).  Even the instrumentation is atypical, as Guthrie uses violoncello and contrabass to weave a creaking, moaning bed beneath French horn playing that frequently sounds like a very large, very sad bird.  There is seemingly not much happening compositionally (overtly, anyway), but Codiaeum Variegatum's languorous, organic, and unfamiliar soundscapes are a lovely place to linger nonetheless.

Andria Degens' first record in five years as Pantaleimon coasts along in a haunting lull, halfway between coherence and a nonsensical haze. A luxury of psychedelic drone and lush orchestration, the narcotic quality of this record is endearing even if it is not fully satisfying. I return often to a few beautifully performed songs buried among a number of other simply competent ones, but I have to admire how engrossing Degens' style is when absorbed at an album's dose.

Lay-by Lullaby is at its core a companion piece to Schaefer's installation work Asleep at the Wheel, which functioned as a call to social awareness that can be lost through the constant movement of modern life symbolized by the repetitive act of automobile travel. This album, however, emphasizes the opposite sensibility. It results in a muted, almost hallucinogenic series of calm compositions that revel in the repetition.

Pierre Jolivet (Pacific 231) and Philippe Blanchard (Lieutenant Caramel) have both been active in experimental music since the mid 1980s, and this is not their first collaboration. However, Aunt Sally is one of those albums that, even after sitting with it for a while and a number of repeated listenings, I still have mixed feelings about. Some moments come across as brilliantly absurdist pairings of cut up music and junk noise. Then there are moments that feel simply like random bits of sound slapped together haphazardly, justifying hat often leveled complaint against this sort of challenging art.

Originally attributed to The Units, this cryptic, haunting, and otherworldly 1978 debut is the album that began over three decades of myth, legend, and speculation regarding the man behind Corwood Industries.  While both the band name and cover art aesthetic proved to be quickly discarded false starts, Sterling Smith's uncompromising musical vision was fully formed from the very beginning...or at least as close to being fully formed as it would ever get.

In their 21st year, Tindersticks have decided to celebrate with two new albums. Across Six Leap Years, a retrospective of sorts, sees them revisiting older material with their current line up and the other is a radical departure as they soundtrack Les Salauds (another Claire Denis film). The soundtrack is the clear winner here but Across Six Leap Years has its moments too.

Although I have only been following Luke Younger's career for a few short years, one thing is very clear to me: he definitely does not like to repeat himself.  Curiously, however, that creative restlessness is not channeled into any sort of recognizably linear evolution; rather, each new Helm release seems to be a self-contained experiment or reinvention.  In keeping with that theme, these latest two EPs take divergent paths and succeed in divergent ways, though Silencer is definitely the superior one.

While there are many fine reasons to love Sublime Frequencies, their latest album highlights a personal favorite: their unwavering willingness to release superficially absurd, financially doomed, or utterly uncategorizable projects solely because they are interesting and unique.  Also, the fact that they are an established label means that something like this (a random-seeming collage of radio snippets recorded almost a decade ago) needs to be treated with considerably more critical thought and openness than it normally would be.  It certainly still sounds like a random collage of radio snippets, mind you, but the intent is deeper and more noble than that.