DJ/producer Catherine Backhouse, a/k/a Xylitol, is a disciple of what Simon Reynolds calls the “hardcore continuum,” the evolution of dance music that mutated acid-house-fueled rave into jungle and its frenetic sonic offshoots. Her Planet Mu debut Anemones encompasses that world with the kinds of familiar, instantly-recognizable break samples and drum patterns any Metalheadz or Moving Shadow devotee would perk their ears up for. But the throwback signifiers aren’t the whole package; her sound sprawls in both directions chronologically and takes unpredictable retrofuturist routes through every possible d’n’b-compatible strain of dance music she can fit into it. The tracks that start out evoking classic jungle quickly warp their way into more unpredictable and rhythmically elaborate excursions. Two originate from the 2021 EP Kosmische Hausfrau: “Okko” builds its hyperventilating, woodpecker-laugh-riddled Jabo Starks drum chop-up around a retro-synth melodic delicacy and a snare-exploding, flange-riddled drive that refuses to stay in the same pocket for long. That goes double for its counterpart “Moebius,” the most elaborate and breathtaking cut on the album, which crests over the horizon with a Disasterpiece-esque chiptune prettiness before the drum rolls start folding in on themselves with a dynamic ebb and flow that hits anew with every escalation. But her eclecticism serves her well, too, as displayed in the back-half stretch of shorter cut.: 2-step workout “Dobro Juto” laces its grime-via-garage Wiley-isms with a characteristic Korg-flute trill and a sawn-off bassline burble that simultaneously keeps it weighty and floaty. The slippery “Daša” puts a similar crystalline-gold cast onto its fidgety post-jungle, leaving enough ambient breathing room around its kick/snare switch-ups to make it feel like the negative space within the groove is every bit as crucial as the tempo that dictates it. And “Iskria” is the machine being pushed to its high-speed limits, erupting in a structure-rupturing succession of explosive breaks that sound maximalist yet composed. Meanwhile, the (relatively) quieter and calmer moments — the paradoxically relaxing yet hard-hitting breakbeat dub of “Miha,” the primitive-synth mid-album comedown “Maplin Syrup,” and the kosmische minimalism of “Monte Mare” — reveal a strong knack for finding the graceful qualities of even the hardest-charging hardcore-continuum beats.