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20 Best EDM and Electronic Albums of 2016

Flume, Kygo, Aphex Twin and more

Top 20, Dance, EDM, Electronic

Aphex Twin, Flume and Demdike Stare made some of the year's best electronic albums.

Kristy Sparow/Getty, Cybele Malinowski, Gary Wolstenholme/Getty

Each passing year seems to bring more hand-wringing over the so-called "EDM bubble." Whether or not the shiny, mainstream, pop-dance sphere is set to burst, electronic music, as it always does, continues to rave on. This year's best albums prove the ostensible underground's in tip-top health, with dance fans ready for a darker and headier bent, from challenging young artists like Nicolas Jaar and Arca to weirdo vets like Autechre and Aphex Twin. On the other end of the spectrum, mainstream standouts like Kygo, Flume and Eric Prydz continued to make stellar album statements in an environment of singles and Soundclouds. In between, slinky R&B, downtempo and outré techno helped out another bumper crop of the year's best.

'Gqom Oh! The Sound of Durban'

Various Artists, ‘Gqom Oh! The Sound of Durban’

This record label conversation between Rome's Nan Kolè and South Africa's Lerato Phiri brings the first commercially available full-length of gqom, the stark, moody genre engulfing the streets of Durban, South Africa and forward-thinking clubs the world over. Made for both tiny cell-phone speakers and taxi cabs alike, gqom is heavy on bass and cavernous reverb, combining the dankness of British grime, the polyrhythmic fury of the pop-electronica hybrid kwaito and the merciless boom of the post-dubstep universe. Both versions – 12 songs on two LPs, or 16 downloads ready for your phone – are skeletal in structure but rich in rhythm, including two tracks from breakout star Citizen Boy: the woodpeckering "Tribute to DSB" and the oppressive and seasick "Ghetto Mafia." The collection peaks with Cruel Boyz' "Umeqo Emagqomini (Dub Mix)," whose constantly surprising, ever-evolving talking drum-esque lead percolates with digital plink. C.W.

Aphex Twin, 'Cheetah' EP

Aphex Twin, ‘Cheetah’ EP

After about a decade appearing seemingly finished with music altogether, Aphex Twin returned in 2014 with the career high-water mark Syro and unlocking a vault of unreleased tracks to Soundcloud. Cementing that Richard D. James wasn't simply lost to the pastures of Cornwall, this comparatively brief half-hour EP, shows no dip in his post-comeback music. The jittery pulses that pushed Syro are replaced here with diffuse calmness, as "CheetahT2 [Ld Spectrum]" and "Cirklon 1" offer relaxed, near-ambient grooves. A couple tracks breeze by as 30-second blurbs, but even those flashes show James in command of a form he helped originate decades ago. D.T.

Autechre, 'Elseq 1-5'

Autechre, ‘Elseq 1-5’

With a series of five simultaneously released LPs that totaled more than four hours of extreme sound, British duo Autechre moved not just beyond the parameters of club and home-listening fare, but to base camp at the Mt. Everest of abstract electronic music. Over their 25 years of circuit-mashing, Sean Booth and Rob Brown have always pushed the parameters of analog gear (and later their Max-DSP patches) to render a sound that suggests the post-human. Already at the vanguard, the Elseq series went a step beyond, formidable and exhilarating in equal measure: half-hour aural amoebas made of broken video game consoles, blissed-out high frequencies, whiplash electro as rendered by heptapods and more. Binge on the entire set and hear a scrapheap future Black Mirror can only hint at. A. Beta

The Field, 'The Follower'

The Field, ‘The Follower’

The fifth album from one of minimal techno's most critically acclaimed artists holds the familiar patterns of his earlier successes, songs slowly unfurling and relishing in the languid pace of running times that often pass 10 minutes. The warm, comparatively shorter comforts of "Soft Stream" and "Raise the Dead" allows them to become backing music to life's quieter moments. The Field's full-lengths never balloon beyond a handful of songs and the same remains true here, but the small details and nooks gives them endless reasons to revisit. D.T.

Arca, 'Entrañas'

Arca, ‘Entrañas’

This 25-minute gasp is one of the more nightmarish dispatches from Arca, the pixel-pusher blurring the lines between club music, noise, musique concrète and body-horror foley work. The producer who brought his frayed A.D.D. edges to Kanye West, Björk and Frank Ocean explodes with screams, moans, bursts of alien techno, scraping, pounding, actual fireworks and a Mica Levi cameo drowned in a puddle of stomp. The sound-sculptor says he "very painstakingly spend[s] time embroidering such a degree of detail and variations," and naturally these are tiny bursts, mostly under two minutes, where tiny details ultimately bleed into a large-scale fright. C.W.

Moodymann, 'DJ-Kicks'

Moodymann, ‘DJ-Kicks’

After 20 years spent forgetting about more disco, funk and house joints than you'll ever know, Detroit legend Moodymann dropped his first-ever officially licensed mix. And as is his wont, Moody delivered the goods on his terms. Eschewing the type of woozy house music he made his name on almost entirely, he instead takes us on a detour through a 21st century R&B not beholden to the Knowles sisters, revealing a smoky parallel world featuring the likes of Yaw, Little Dragon and D.C. funktronica crew Fort Knox Five. But don't mistake the mix for just a party soundtrack. Moodymann stayed politically minded amid the year's turmoil, at one point dropping out the beat and having a voice warn: "There's no room for ideals in this mechanical place." A. Beta

Nicolas Jaar, 'Sirens'

Nicolas Jaar, ‘Sirens’

Chilean-American producer Nicolas Jaar crafts music more measured and deliberate than almost any of his peers, his dance singles and online mixes almost as famous for their crawling BPM and slowly unfurling dynamics as the music contained within. For his second proper album, Jaar tackles the issues of his two homes, Chile in the shadow of General Pinochet's junta and America in the dystopian present. He addresses these at his own speed, roving through clattering bells, sinuous reggaeton, sinister Suicide throbs, sweet-sounding doo-wop and even echoes of his childhood dialogues with his own father. By turns bracing, inviting, innocent and brutal, Jaar sums up both the past and present moment thusly: "We fucked up." A. Beta