St. Etienne remain one of the most intelligent, pop literate acts around. Their previous album, 1998's Good Humour, found them breaking with their own conventions by dropping samples and effects in favour of real musicians. However, Sound Of Water sees them blending the two with immaculate good taste: strings and woodwind (arrangements by the High Llamas' Sean O'Hagan) sit alongside bubbling keyboards and quietly throbbing beats while guitars (courtesy of Doves' Jez Williams) rub up against buzzing synths. German electronic pioneers To Rococo Rot chip in with some minimalist, arty arrangements but only in the context of some beautifully sculpted songs. And what songs: "Sycamore", "Don't Back Down", "Downey CA" all swell with the sort of lush, gossamer melodies that breeze through your consciousness like a warm breeze through a curtain. Sarah Cracknell sounds like she's going to expire at any moment, while Wiggs and Stanley breathe life into every musical phrase. -Mike Pattenden.

Everything about crypt crawler Lara Croft is fake: her boobs, her archaeological background, her identity. So it's fitting that the equally synthetic Tomb Raider Soundtrack should arrive in time for her big-screen debut. U2 reel out the album's strongest track, a glossy remix of "Elevation" that skids all over glam-rock terrain and is just sexy enough to make it work as a single (as well as a scene-stealing video featuring Tomb Raider star Angelina Jolie). Nine Inch Nails' Trent Reznor works himself into a fit on the grinding "Deep", but his tirade sounds outdated with its dumb lyrics and clunky, hookless programming. Speaking of computer blues, Groove Armada's wordless snoozer "Edge Hill" is about as far from shakin' that ass as a dance act can get. Thankfully, club reliables like the Chemical Brothers and Moby can still get it done; the former brings out the funk with a writhing dance tune that's as tireless as the film's heroine, while the latter's fuzzed-out big beats explode into a giddy freak-out that helps tighten up the album's bland midsection. Oddly, the only ladies in the house, Missy "Misdemeanor" Elliot and young Nelly Furtado, are the ones who get Lara Croft's modus operandi right; no matter how perfect she may be, she still needs to "get her freak on". -Kristy Martin.

Understood in any language, across any time zone, Global Communication tolls for the human spirit which knows no boundaries. As one of the most significant releases to cross the ambient currents of the 1990s, 76:14 places itself alongside benchmark electronic releases from Brian Eno, the Orb, and the Future Sound of London. These synth-dominated ventures allow the armchair traveller to indulge in atmospheric wanderings which suggest virtual galactic discovery. But often enough the textured beats keep things grounded to dissuade the listener from being lost in the void. Vocal samples from nine languages also remind us of the international and diplomatic intentions of this otherwise electro-instrumental album. Strap in and enjoy the lift-off for all mankind. -Lucas Hilber.

Surprisingly Loud is only the debut LP from German house don Timo Maas, a super-talented remixer and incendiary club DJ who's risen into the international DJ super-league through a mixture of hard work and no-nonsense crowd-pleasing. Now, though, it seems he wants to be the Chemical Brothers as well. Loud is a proper artist album-fourteen tracks of mainstream, club-friendly electronica, peppered with special guests, and bulging with the sort of eclectic muscle to rock the alternative crowd as well as the club fraternity. The opening "Help Me", all ghostly theremin and funky deep house bassline, features an uncharacteristically-restrained vocal performance from Kelis, while an on-form Finley Quaye weighs in with a handful of demented, stoned ramblings on the shimmering, psychedelic "Caravan". Elsewhere, the chunky acid squelch of "Manga" and the Teutonic disco pulse of "Shifter", featuring the warping vocals of garage MC Chick-a-boo should appeal to fans of the tune that made Maas' name back in 2000, his pioneering overhaul of Azzido Da Bass' "Dooms Night". Ultimately, Loud is a spot more refined, progressive and laid-back than the cartoonish pop antics of this record's closest precedent, Fatboy Slim's You've Come A Long Way Baby-but it might just catapault Timo Maas into a similar league. -Louis Pattison.

The fulcrum of Chicago's underground musical scene, Tortoise pretty much are the group responsible for plotting the blueprint of what's commonly-if vaguely-referred to as post-rock. Certainly, they are an outfit who, since their inception, have remained in a constant state of flux, their ever-shifting line-up reflecting a constantly mutating musical ethos. Where 1996's Millions Now Living Will Never Die largely comprised of maudlin guitar-bass-and-drums instrumentals and 1998's TNT embraced the modern electronic studio as the group's primary instrument, the lofty aim of Standards is to unite both approaches under a pioneering banner: analogue and digital technology used as complementary forces. Sounds thrilling, eh? Well, probably not, unless you puzzle over circuit boards of an evening in. But forget, just for a minute, Tortoise's pseudo-intellectual reputation and just listen to the sounds. It's somewhat appropriate that Standards is the group's debut for adventurous British techno label Warp; this is Tortoise's least categorisable album yet-a kaleidoscope of sound, where Miles Davis glides serenely past Autechre, each individual instrument melding into a hypnotic fog, and then swiftly congealing into sudden, breathtaking movements: the sudden, florid bloom of xylophone from the casual swing of "Benway", or the rumble of warm saxophone, shaking up the electronic foundations of "Monica". Still flying the flag for the experimental vanguard, this might just be Tortoise's greatest album yet. -Louis Pattison.

Justice is the moniker of the Paris-based production duo Gaspard Augé and Xavier de Rosnay. Their approach to crazy-quilt dance-pop hybridism is infectious, if a tad off-putting here and there. The duo rose to fame due to an MP3 single and super smart video for the excellent, kiddy-chorused house-pop number "D. A. N. C. E. " in 2007, and they soon thereafter signed to the suitably named label Banger. They manage to make really silly and fun music in a way that frequently comes off in a pretentious manner. It's ridiculous to name your album after a symbol, especially if it's †. [+]