In Olga Grushin’s novel The List, hundreds of Russian citizens stand on line, day after day, season after season, hoping to score tickets for a concert by an expatriate composer. Some believe that the concert will elucidate a previously-inarticulate nostalgia; others expect something entirely brand-new and without precedent.

In the same way, we project our own hopes and fears, our yearnings and disappointments, on the music we anticipate and eventually hear. The mournful seek consolation; the joyful seek ebullience; the creative seek inspiration. Each of us is after the same Holy Grail: the musical experience that transcends all musical experiences, making every prior note superfluous. And yet, this Grail remains tantalizingly out of reach; we encounter it only in glimmers and dreams. Perhaps it’s better this way, as it allows us to be grateful for the notes we do have: albums that whet our appetite, month after month, for the wealth of sonic wonders that perpetually rest in the pre-release sectors of our minds.

During the month of June, these releases gave us pause, grounded us in the present moment, and reminded us to appreciate today’s ephemeral beauty.

From This Vantage is The Ascent of Everest’s testament to the rapid, ever-changing pace of life. The album is a guided tour through the seasons, taking listeners from frost to fire and back again. With less guitar and more strings than 2008’s How Lonely Sits the City, From This Vantage expels massive energy with finesse and gentility. The Ascent of Everest drops the politics here and ventures further into the world of harmonic vocals, making this a mature, forward-thinking album. Instead of directing listeners’ thoughts to a specific cause, the album allows for a wealth of interpretations. From this vantage, it’s a winner. (Nikki Benson)

Those expecting Returnal to be a warm, fuzzy, floaty experience, harking back to the analogue synths of the 1970s, are in for a rude awakening. The disc opens with a full-on blast of digital tones, a rebellion against such a nostalgic notion. It makes sense that such an aural assault appears on Oneohtrix Point Never’s new home, Editions Mego. The label might insist there’s no characteristic sound, but there is a Mego attitude. After this opening blast, the music is closer to what one expects, drifting in a tangerine dreamstate, acting as an imaginary soundtrack for an infinite number of low-budget John Carpenter movies. The album makes a strong argument that new ideas are still around. Returnal is comfortingly familiar, yet alien – an album that buries itself in the brain like juvenile Ceti Eeels. (Jeremy Bye)

June was a banner month for Future Recordings, who managed to release ten titles in a multitude of formats: CD, vinyl, cassette and even book. The Infinite Regress may have been released in the shadow of Everest, but it deserves to share the spotlight. With four songs in one hour, this is post-rock slow-roasted to perfection, featuring all the tastiest ingredients: glockenspiels, violins, delicate piano interludes, cathartic, guitar-driven peaks, and a soupçon of sweet, light vocals. The debuts of Ef, Yndi Halda, and yes, The Ascent of Everest come to mind. The Infinite Regress proves that last year’s intensely melodic EP (re-presented here in higher fidelity) was no fluke, and that the band has the talent and verve necessary to one day become King of the Mountain. (Richard Allen)

Italy’s Giuseppe Ielasi has made quite the name for himself over the past decade, releasing numerous critically-acclaimed albums as a solo artist, collaborator and producer. Though his earlier work was aurally drone-oriented, his work is often conceptual in nature, and his most recent output [Aix, Stunt, (Another) Stunt] has put this aspect of his approach to production front and center. In June, he released two new solo works, and though the tape machine collages of 15 Tapes (Senufu Editions) is certainly worth your time, Ielasi’s Tools deserves a closer look. By building sparse, abstract sound collages out of household materials that give each track its name (“Rubber Band,” “Cooking Pan” and so on), Ielasi continues on the course he set with last year’s Aix. Few contemporary producers of electroacoustic music have continued to be as captivating and original. Here he clearly demonstrates that talent isn’t always in the tools, but in the compositional vision of the producer. “Rubber Band” conjures up images of childhood; for those of us who fantasized about playing music as children while snapping rubber bands, this track is even more resonant. Every track conjures unique reflections, and though the album leans more toward sound design than traditional music, Ielasi’s sense of rhythm will appeal to any with an adventurous ear. (Joseph Sannicandro)

Hailing from the Midwestern United States, a place seldom thought of as a hotbed of electronic music, Lorn drops on the scene with megaton force. Nothing Else is a ridiculous hybrid of dubstep, hip-hop and malice, an oft-angry-sounding debut in an attractive style. The first generation of hip-hop heads are accustomed to nodding their domes in rhythm to the beats, but Lorn pushes listeners to a place in which head-nodding is overtaken by head-banging. For this reviewer, the first intense listen to this album resulted in a bangover and a trip to the acupuncturist. The Brainfeeder galaxy is quickly engulfing other smaller galaxies of 21st century hip-hop. Get on board for a ride like nothing else! (Gabriel Bogart)