Yagya: Rigning

Rigning, the third album from Icelandic producer Yagya, is genuinely the most beautiful record I've heard this year. People call Yagya dub-techno, but he's much better than anything you associate with that - it's gleaming, glacial, glistening ambient with a pulse that's only there for a horizontal axis, because this record's really all about the drips, clinks and shimmers that reflect off the beat. Brian Eno could be the Lucky Pierre (look it up) between two members of Sigur Ros while Wolfgang Voigt watches, and you still wouldn't produce anything this gorgeous.

But ultimately, Rigning goes on for so long, with little variation, that you get tired of it. It's not like 10:20's recent debut, which has a comparable aesthetic, but where there are twists and turns in every song. There's no surprises here. You never see it without its make-up; you don't even see much variation in eyeliner shade. And so ultimately, you get those dreaded moments where you find yourself checking how long's left on the record, and it's nearly always a surprise, because you figured there must be only a few minutes to go and really it's twenty. Which is a shame, because there are few things more admirable than an individual with such a narrow, singular vision who manages to find enough variations on the theme they've set themselves to keep you second guessing (like say, Burial). There are so many moments of beauty here that Rigning is surely essential - those rain samples in themselves are stunning - but it's the ultimate album you'll only ever listen to once in its entirety, but you'll tell all your mates you love anyway.