‘I hug strangers, I lose my friends … I listen to 100,000 songs,” deadpans Chris Imler on the title track of The Internet Will Break My Heart. The dark underbelly of the internet is the theme behind this record; across its nine tracks, the Berlin-based songwriter and producer flits between topics as varied as porn, cute animals, war and weed with the hasty indifference of someone flicking between apps. It’s a suitably macabre topic for Imler, whose sound is characterised by a strange, nocturnal quality, all chugging instrumentals and monotone chanting.

The record draws on Imler’s trusty seedy palette, skulking somewhere in the depths between Krautrock and industrial dance music. But where new interpretations of these genres can often veer towards pastiche, Imler’s approach feels both refreshing and as raw as the real deal, thanks in part to his frequent co-producer, Benedikt Frey. Un Solo Corpo brings to mind Suicide, with its smoky, skippy melody, gruff vocals and swirls of feedback, but it would also go down well in a club. Agoraphobie, another standout, features fellow underground experimentalist Naomie Klaus’ sultry vocals lurking around western-style guitars and synths that whir and wail like a theremin.

There are moments that could be mistaken for indie landfill in the wrong context (Let’s Not Talk About the War), but any naffness is saved by Imler’s knowing humour. Me Porn, You Porn, for example, captures the absurdity of a Tonetta track if he swapped his acoustic guitar for a synthesiser, while Liturgy of Litter sounds like a nursery rhyme gone wrong. It’s these wonky, downtempo excursions that make the record so good, as seductive and disorientating as a late-night internet rabbit hole.

Also out this month

Adrian Sherwood’s name that can be found across the liner notes of all sorts of post-punk, dub and dance records. In Obscured by Version (On-U Sound), the producer returns to his own Dub Syndicate project, reinventing rhythms from the 80s and 90s into a collection of spacious, uplifting and, at times, joyfully familiar new tracks. Despite sitting under 30 minutes, the excellent new mini album by French producer Fantastic Twins is huge in scope and ambition: originally written as a contemporary dance score, Suite of Rooms (House of Slessor) brings together cinematic soundscapes and icy 80s electronica to create a haunting odyssey. In Ghost/Spirit (Thrill Jockey), the latest album by Berlin-based artist Jules Reidy, the cosy bedroom pop formula is given a sleek, supernatural finish, with plucky guitars and dreamy yearning warped by AutoTune and scattershot electronics. The tracks are mostly short and ephemeral, but an uncanny feeling lingers on.