Kevin Martin, aka The Bug, is dance music’s most dangerous soundboy. He’s spent his career giving sound technicians heart attacks in his quest to go bigger, louder and more powerful. He pushes systems to the max, turning the dancefloor into a zone where you will be cleansed with bass. After the magnificent ‘London Zoo’ (2008) and it’s follow up, ‘Angels & Devils’ (2014), The Bug seems to have been purged of vocal-led dubstep/dancehall skud missiles. After all, where do you go from ‘Skeng’, ‘Jah War’, ‘Function’ or ‘Fuck You’? Well, Martin found a way to go even heavier without repeating the format by linking up with legendary doom outfit Earth. ‘Concrete Desert’ is ‘Sleng Teng’ in sludge, The Bug’s famous low-end pulse propelling unending spools of sticky, stoned riffage, all wrapped up in dystopian crackle and presented with track titles like ‘Don’t Walk These Streets’ and ‘Snakes Vs Rats’. Just when you thought Kevin Martin had out-soundclashed himself, he returns with yet more speaker-destroying weaponry. Seb Wheeler

Peverelist is a don. I haven’t heard a Pev song I didn’t like and that’s extremely rare. It’s mostly because he’s managed to consistently develop his sound, keeping it exciting and fresh. He is one of the most prolific producers of now and his impact on both the Bristol music scene and electronic music will be felt for many more years to come.

I moved to Bristol in 2014. After quite a few years obsessing over labels Idle Hands, Happy Skull, Livity Sound (and then their offshoot label Dnuos Ytivil) and Punch Drunk, a label curated by Peverelist, it was time to make the move.

This was an album I waited impatiently for. I still remember leaving class and almost running to Idle Hands panicking I wouldn’t get a copy. It was nine years since his last and although there had been releases on Hessle Audio, Tectonic and of course Livity Sound, I knew this was going to be BIG. And it certainly did not disappoint.

Tessellations begins beautifully. I would consider the first track on this album, ‘Burning Sea’, the follow up to Pev & Hodge’s ‘Bells’, it builds on the nostalgic energy and completes the journey. That summer I heard ‘Wireframes’ and ‘Still Early’ at every festival I went to. I distinctly remember football lad chanting the chorus of ‘Still Early’ at Dimensions at 3am, hands in the air while onlookers gazed upon us, mesmerised by our infectious energy - or so I like to think.

Around this time there was Batu’s release ‘Marius’ on Hessle Audio and Bruce’s ‘Before You Sleep’ on Hemlock, it felt like Bristol had its own distinctive sound. I could go out anywhere in the country and be like ‘yeah those offbeats drums and those alien sounds, that’s Bristol right there.’ Yewande Adeniran

Some moments in life are so emotionally stimulating that they become flashbulb memories, meaning you can vividly recall the surrounding details years down the line. It can be shocking events (“Where were you when you found out Michael Jackson died?”), or happy, like living through the 90s rave heyday (“'Where Were U in ‘92?'”). One of mine is listening to J Hus’ ‘Common Sense’ the first time. Sitting at my desk as it was first played on the office stereo and my ears pricking up immediately through the opening bars, nodding in strong agreement reading my colleague Dave’s prophesying tweet that the coming summer would belong to J Hus. How right he was: there came a point in the hot months of 2017 where it seemed like every single car in London was blasting this record with the windows rolled down. Or the ones that passed me on the rare occasions it wasn’t on repeat in my headphones at least. A perfect run 17 tracks - pairing empyrean vocals and production so sublime that even the embedded “JAE5” tags became iconic - each one has had its own stint as my favourite. And 2.5 years down the line, the replay value hasn’t diminished a jot. It’s a guaranteed mood lifter no matter how down I’m feeling, like a flashbulb in the dark. Patrick Hinton

Arca is the Venezuela-born, Björk, fka Twigs, Kelela, Jesse Kanda et al-collabing auteur behind albums like ‘Xen’, ‘Mutant’ and, of course, her eponymous XL Recordings release. In its entirety, ‘Arca’ (much like its namesake) is stunning in its delivery, haunting in its visuals (be it via artwork, music videos or live) and surprising in its ingredients – Arca’s pained coos and operatic vocals, delivered in her native language, heard more than ever before across nine of the thirteen album cuts.

By letting her voice guide much of the release, Arca opened up in a way we had yet to experience in releases prior. The forward-facing sound design and fluid nature of her work still every bit as stark, visceral and heart-wrenching, but now baring the weight of her lyrical messaging and the added emotional chaos imbued within. Seemingly, as if it was always intended to be experienced that way. Lead tracks like ‘Anoche’ or ‘Piel’ poignant and tear-inducing, even for the non-Spanish speakers among us. Elsewhere, ‘Whip’ is, well, whipping in nature, and wonderful its introduction into the sublime ‘Desafío’ – a pained pop ballad for those who favour the likes of Kamixlo or M.E.S.H as opposed to major label chart-toppers.

In an interview with photographer Wolfgang Tillmans Arca revealed that the album was an attempt to make something beautiful out of the sadness in the world. Which it really did, and will continue to do, as the world gets progressively sadder and shitter and both ‘Arca’ the album and Arca the artist offer musical respite from it all. Jasmine Kent-Smith

It’s a Fractal Fantasy world – a glorious, technology-driven utopia filled with bass music mutations, warped choir samples and ecstatically morish, otherworldly material – and we’re all just living in it. That’s it. That’s all I have to say.

...fine, that’s how it feels at least, when powerhouse pair Sinjin Hawke and Zora Jones nourish their eager fanbase (and just the world in general) with bombastic A/V shows, their merch and even their online multimedia platform. Not forgetting, obviously, their musical output, which is akin to a sort of hyperreal, digitalised cherry on top when you consider just how far their talents stretch in other creative directions.

Back in 2017 Hawke released his ‘First Opus’ LP. Across its 14 tracks he gathered an array of various signatures he’d been honing in years prior through solo releases, work with Jones or work with the likes of Kanye West into one singular long-player that clearly showcased his musical manifesto of: ‘bangers, produced for the floor, for another dimension’. Or, something of the sort. This, as you can imagine, blew our collective minds in the office. ‘First Opus’ quickly becoming our stereo record of choice.

On the album he did his fair share of genre-bending between established and alien sounds to create danceable, experimental and unique new material that conjured up images of Hawke the conductor, front and centre, guiding his alien orchestra through some of Planet Earth’s most beloved and regional electronic music sub-genres. Everything from footwork, Jersey club, dancehall and hip hop to wider visions of club, pop or even HudMo-ish mayhem covered. Tracks like ‘Don’t Lose Yourself To This’, ‘They Can’t Love You’, ‘Flood Gates’ or ‘In Loving Memory’, which was dedicated to the late DJ Rashad, glorious and bright and symphony-like in their compositions, yet total heavyweights in the ring when it came to their floor-filling capabilities. Jasmine Kent-Smith

Discwoman cofounder Emma Burgess-Olson, better known by her moniker Umfang, has always been at the forefront of pushing for change in dance music. It should have come as no surprise, then, when ‘Symbolic Use Of Light’ was released in 2017, that her second album did too.

Shunning samples for pure hardware sounds, Umfang is renowned for recording live in one take; this simplistic authenticity shines on ‘Symbolic Use Of Light’, where ‘Full 1’ and ‘Full 2’ round off the album as two halves of the same track, ending with the same motifs but a greater sense of peace. Umfang merges ambient and techno throughout the album, and nowhere is that clearer than tracks like ‘Wingless Victory’, one of the straighter techno cuts, proving that Umfang isn’t afraid of melding experimentalism with a good old dancey banger.

‘Symbolic Use Of Light’ was a quiet refusal to meet expectations as a DJ and producer, and set Umfang on a path of defining her career on her own terms. It remains a singular expression of vulnerability, one that is instantly recognisable and loveable. Jemima Skala

Octo Octa’s music just brings sheer joy. Whether it’s her always-a-vibe DJ sets or bright, bouncing house productions, it’s highly likely you’ll be feeling like she’s whisked you off into some sort of dancefloor paradise. 2011’s ‘Rough, Rugged, And Raw’ album and 2013’s ‘Between Two Selves’, both released on 100% Silk, are proof that she’s been making wicked tracks for a minute, but it’s only once ‘Where Are We Going?’ came out in 2017 that her career really clicked into place like a well-triggered hi-hat.

In our cover feature earlier this year, Octo Octa says the hype generated around the LP was related to her newfound involvement with the queer scene having come out as trans in 2016. “I had wanted to be part of it the whole time, but I was seen as a cis dude,” she said. This was her time to shine, and the album most definitely brings sunlight. It’s obvious through track titles like ‘Fleeting Moments Of Freedom (Wooo)’ and ‘No More Pain (Promises To A Younger Self)’ that the album is representative of her emotional liberation, those tracks in joyous house and euphoric breaks territory. Elsewhere there’s the spongy pads and skittering percussion of ‘Move On (Let Go) - De-stress Mix’ and the wavy, piano goodness of album closer ‘Where Are We Going? Pt. 2’. Female and queer representation in dance music is growing and this album has been key in that. Just look at the run Octo Octa’s partner Eris Drew has been on and the irresistible rave-inspired tunes their label T4T LUV NRG is home to. Dave Turner

Jana Rush learned to produce by watching Paul Johnson make music in the kitchen of his mother’s house. She and her friends Gant-Man, DJ Rashad and DJ Deeon would cram round the ghetto house star and test their skills on his equipment. In 1995, at the age 15, she nailed a release on Dance Mania. It doesn’t get more OG than that.

After time away from music, Rush re-emerged some 18 years later as a producer of sleek, dubby footwork that clearly references her love of techno as well as the uncompromising nature of Chicago dance music. I discovered her music after a tip-off from RP Boo and went in search of her online, where I found tracks scattered across SoundCloud, Bandcamp and compilations put together by women footwork producers. Her debut album ‘Pariah’ is an important missive from a long-serving Chicago artist working in a scene that has always been and still is very male dominated. It’s dark, tense and propulsive, thrilling music for the mind and feet. Seb Wheeler

Karen Gwyer will forever be one of my favourite artists to dance to in a club. For the simple reason that her sets are fun. I’ve always had an amazing time during both her DJ and live sets. They ooze a playful vibe while carrying the crowd hypnotically into an oddball trance where everything is a little bit bookie but you’re dancing all the same. Don’t Be Afraid are responsible for stellar releases from crowd favourites rRoxymore, Ikonika and MGUN. Excellently curated over the last 10 years, they have a knack for putting out releases that shift our expectations of what is expected of a house record.

A night I’ll always remember is Ben UFO, Call Super, Objekt and Karen Gwyer at XOYO. Every set was phenomenal, whenever I felt my energy dipping, whoever was on would shift the energy, reviving me from my almost zombie state. Hearing ‘The Workers Are On Strike’, hands down one of the best tracks of this decade, is something I will always remember. On a huge system you can hear the uneasy backdrop that never simmers so clearly, while the jazz melody whizzes in and out before moody subs circle you unexpectedly. Deeply political at moments, the album merges curiosity in human existence with sweaty dancefloors. If this album doesn’t inspire you to join your union, I don’t think anything will. Yewande Adeniran

Discovering Lisbon-born, Bordeaux-raised “batida badass” Nídia this decade is something I’m eternally grateful for. Her bombastic, instinctual and adrenaline-fuelled take on kuduro (an infectious Angolan sound and polyrhythmic dance style that’s thriving in Lisbon and, in turn, now the clubs of Europe and beyond thanks to innovative Afro-Portuguese producers, crews, and releases aplenty) hits at a kinda ‘inject into my veins’ level of goodness.

I was a little late to the game, admittedly, with the very first Nídia record I heard her 2017 Principé debut album ‘Nídia é Má, Nídia é Fudida’ (which loosely translates to “Nídia is bad, Nídia is dope”, ofc!). My then-blossoming love for the Príncipe and affiliates like DJ Marfox or DJ N**** Fox leading to that level of label/listener trust where you just know you are going to like what they’re dishing out. You know the trust I mean, that kind of telepathic line of communication between you and them that you’re more than a little convinced is in effect. It’s just not possible for so many of their releases to cater to your wants and needs. Right?

Anyway, the album, a follow up to 2014’s ‘Estudio Da Mana’ and 2015’s ‘Danger’ – an equally impressive record – is fierce, fun and full of short bursts of slick, syncopated percussion, writhing beat switch-ups and licks of youthful rebellion. And, most notably, one of the cataclysmic releases that opened foreign eyes and ears to the wonders of Lisbon’s dance scene and the talent and innovation permeating within. Jasmine Kent-Smith

Pan Daijing’s debut album was a controlled explosion whose effect was felt in ripples when it was released on PAN in 2017. An entrancing mix of performance, field recordings and contorted improvisation, ‘Lack’ is a study of harshness as healing, abrasiveness as a cold sort of comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

The album as a whole is noise experimentalism at its most understandable and accessible, perhaps because Daijing draws on universal themes of the body and self-identity. ‘Practice Of Hygiene’ is as much body poetry as it is a soundscape. It’s uncomfortable, but that’s entirely the point; it brings the listener face-to-face with the body and its intense desires and unpleasant functions: grunting, retching, snorting, grunting, gasping. It’s on this track that Daijing’s BDSM influences are felt most keenly.

By the time the seven minute closer ‘Lucid Morto’ has faded out, you’re aware that you’ve just heard something spectacular. That’s the magic of ‘Lack’; it measures, accounts for and embraces the space left in abrasiveness to let you know yourself more. It’s as much an exploration of self for Daijing as it is an exploration of noise, and in that is a powerful invitation for you to know yourself through her. Jemima Skala

Bicep caught the mood of the moment with an album that appealed to a young and hungry UK clubbing cognoscenti as well as elder statesmen like Sven Väth and Sasha. Even on first listen, it was clear that this was jam-packed with potential future singles, so when ‘Opal’ and ‘Glue’ eventually dropped, it was clear that this duo were the biggest thing to play to an unsuspecting club crowd since Disclosure. The difference with Disclosure however was clear: Bicep stayed more true to their rave roots and avoided the guest vocal route for the course of this slick 60 minute electronic journey. It also paved the way for a formidable live show. And finally, signing to Ninja Tune was the smartest decision they could have taken: like Kölsch and Kompakt, it was a match made in musical heaven. Ralph Moore

Errorsmith, aka Erik Wiegand, knows better than anyone in electronic music how to shift with the times as well as define them. The latter comes more as a byproduct of having your finger on the pulse, and 2017’s ‘Superlative Fatigue’ is no exception.

Unusually, the album is almost entirely made using the Razor synth plugin that Wiegand developed for Native Instruments. This makes for a very dry sound, geared in a direction that’s vaguely dubstep, vaguely UK funky, vaguely dancehall, entirely Errorsmith. Created in the spirit of experimentalism, the melodies are unchained, veering wildly off in any direction they choose. Highlights are ‘Lightspeed’, ‘My Party’ and ‘I’m Interesting, Cheerful and Sociable’, in which Razor is pushed to its very limits of additive synthesis, sometimes sounding like a kazoo and sometimes like a muffled vocal line. The latter track in particular is a standout: it’s anxiously extroverted, making every effort to make itself likeable but the melodies spiral out into dissonance, unable to keep it all together.

With 13 years elapsed between ‘Superlative Fatigue’ and his last full-length release, there’s a guarantee that the time put in to an Errorsmith album will make it entirely worth it. That certainly held true for ‘Superlative Fatigue’. Jemima Skala

If ever there was an album that conjured up the best Balearic mood that music and Ibiza had to offer, it was this self-titled debut from Running Back’s Gerd Janson and Lauer and a professional Ibiza grump and multi-instrumentalist musician known to his friends as Mark Barrott, who knows his way around a keyboard and the island like almost no-one else that we know. So when they came together to bring 90s piano riffs, gently syncopated drum patterns and irresistable rhythms that you’d gladly choose to be a slave to, it’s no wonder that the club cognoscenti came out to play: from the opening ‘Ancona Ancona’ to ‘Ocean Grill’, from the chugging piano-house classic ‘Experc’ to the heavy soul of the closing ‘Aurorca’, this was an album that proudly wore its hard-earned classic house stripes and revelled in a world where EDM was but a distant memory and ocean waves were propelled by the sound of Talamanca System, which also happens to be one of the best beaches on the island. Ralph Moore

Tzusing has spent the better part of his life living between Asia and America, and this duality of perspective and thought is what makes ‘東方不敗' such a compelling album.

The album as a whole has an incredible movement and energy encased within it; every beat feels like it’s rolling forwards, marching onwards ever onwards. Once album closer ‘Torque Pulsations’ has finished, you find yourself dancing to a beat that’s no longer there, compelled to keep going despite yourself. ‘東方不敗' combines subtle elements of Chinese folk music with Americanised electronic beats: the spoken sample of ‘King Of Hosts’ becomes a storyteller; in ‘Post-Soviet Machines’, a cowbell rings through the harshest rhythm the album has to offer. It’s a lesson in synergy from start to finish. This duality and energy are what have made it such an enduring album.

As if to emphasise the intended impact of his debut album, Tzusing has left us in the lurch and not put out any more solo releases since 2017 (although he linked up with M.E.S.H. for a split release earlier this year). The start of the roaring 2020s will certainly see us eagerly awaiting his follow-up. Jemima Skala

Not a lot is known about the elusive Shinichi Atobe, save for the near universal knowledge that he’s one of the best dub techno artists of a generation - albeit one we nearly lost to obscurity after his first release around the turn of the millenium. Having debuted with ‘Ship-Scope’, the perfect and penultimate EP on Basic Channel’s Chain Reaction imprint, in 2001, no more was heard of Shinichi Atobe until he was tracked down at home in Japan by Demdike Stare members Sean Canty and Miles Whittaker 13 years later. He was revealed to be sitting on a catalogue of sublime material, and four albums on the DDS label later, Shinici Atobe’s legacy is inscribed into legend.

2017 LP 'From the Heart, It's a Start, A Work of Art' is symbolic of his timeless brilliance: three of the seven tracks were originally cut to a run of five plates in 2000, but an official release never materialised. Almost 20 years on, they sound spellbinding and fit flawlessly alongside the newer productions on the record. No one does lush ambient soundscapes like Shinichi. Patrick Hinton

As a label, Brainfeeder’s surge into the convergence of backpacker hip hop and ambient bass grooves brilliantly dovetailed with dubstep’s modern era popularity boom. While the work of the likes of Gaslamp Killer and Flying Lotus more concretely fit into this expectation, it’s Grammy-award winning bassist Thundercat’s 2017 album ‘Drunk’ that, in blending acid jazz and soul music more explicitly into the label’s sound, made it groundbreaking.

Moreover, it’s the album’s ability to navigate the space between aural seduction and melancholic, existential angst that wins, too. Yes, 70s and 80s era blue-eyed soul groove-meisters Kenny Loggins and Michael McDonald are present here, as well as oftentimes earnest-intentioned artistic polymath Pharrell Williams, plus Wiz Khalifa, and r’n’b icons the Isley Brothers. But, the guitar master who achieved crossover renown as a collaborator on Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 magnum opus ‘To Pimp A Butterfly’ is the star of the show. Songs like the album’s title-track may be under two minutes in length (as is most of the album), but the depth and scope of style and awareness present is significant.

If looking for where something akin to a trip-hop resurgence with dub bass, soul, and ambient energy at the forefront could be headed in the future, it’s here. If you’re a selector and willing to journey down the rabbit hole into the likes of artist-producers like Anderson .Paak, the jazz stylings of the West Coast Get Down collective and so many more, this is an essential and archetypal release worthy of time and consideration. Marcus K. Dowling

Soulful house by way of skittering be-bop and jazz-funk hybrid riddims define the excellence of Amp Fiddler’s 2017 release ‘Amp Dog Nights.’ Any artist’s album that counts J Dilla and Moodymann as literal collaborators and not spiritual influences is significant. Detroit-based Amp Fiddler’s six decades on Earth allow him to have both introduced the former to the MPC and assisted the latter in styling techno productions. All the while, he’s still a devotee of 40’s era jazz recordings. Impressively, all of these styles are present and explored on this release.

What stands out the most here is the album’s ability to encompass and uniquely explore seven decades of black music, but base them all within a nuanced understanding of just how far and deep jazz as a genre has expanded for eras of modern exploration. ‘Through Your Soul’ is Memphis soul with a thick break-beat, while ‘Put Me in Your Pocket’ could be a leftover from a Motown-scored Blaxploitation soundtrack. ‘I Get Moody Sometimes’ features an aforementioned techno legend, yet hits like a bluesy, chillout take on an Eric B. and Rakim cut.

There’s a generation of beatsmiths like Mndsgn, Knxwledge, and numerous others now extending the legacy of dusty soul groove innovators from the early 2000s era like Stones Throw Records. Evolving expectations of jazz-laden soul into all sonic atmospheres is always an appreciated intention. When legendary echoes are excitingly stirred, the result is ear-wormingly impressive. Marcus K. Dowling