“Generally, it was a formidable year for new music—so much so that my ten notable recordings are entirely contemporary, with dead composers demoted to the honorable-mention category. Many of these works have an intangible quality in common, one that’s hard to name. Sonic landscapes shimmer before one’s ears, but they are too irregular and restless to be classified as minimalist or ambient. Instead, they suggest an ominous stasis, an unstable stillness.”

Read more at The New Yorker