Over the last three years, Glaswegian producer Hudson Mohawke (born Ross Birchard) has made major headway infusing rap with new electronic textures both as one half of TNGHT with Canadian DJ Lunice and as a beatmaker in Kanye West’s G.O.O.D Music stable. But he doesn’t seem to want to be defined by his hip-hop dabbling anymore. Mohawke said as much in conversation with Pitchfork this spring, where he was reticent to even utter the word "rap." And so the guiding principle for Mohawke's sophomore album, Lantern, is to showcase his versatility. He’s been pecking away at the record since he got swept up into the Yeezus machine, and it feels like a conscious subversion of everything people might expect to hear from a guy with credits on Nothing Was the Same, My Name Is My Name, and I Am Not a Human Being II.

For one, there aren’t any rappers on Lantern. It isn’t your typical producer's showcase, and our maestro doesn’t hide behind a parade of cleverly curated guest features. Only five of the album’s 14 songs bother with vocals at all, and the performers slide neatly into Hud Mo's vehicles, commanding attention as necessary but often hanging back in the mix, another paintbrush by the artist’s easel. Antony tiptoes around a napping lover on "Indian Steps", while Jhené Aiko mourns a doomed romance on "Resistance". Neither voice raises above a whisper as they bob gently over sparse, swirling arrangements. Lantern’s quieter tracks are broken up with moments of bedlam—Irfane’s helium-voiced lead on "Very First Breath" is the calming focal point in a disorienting array of bleating video game keys—and when it gets loud, the album's guest vocalists are terra firma underneath a pulverizing armada of synths.

The album’s more ambitiously orchestrated sections are a rewarding new look for the producer. The widescreen majesty of "Kettles" and "Scud Books" fully realize a sound Mohawke hinted at years ago with cuts like "Shower Melody", off his 2009 Warp Records debut Butter. "Kettles" abandons the idea that Mohawke needs to make electronic music at all, opting for heart-swelling neoclassical instead, before "Scud Books" takes everything he tried on the previous song and crams it back into a trap cut. "Lil Djembe" picks up Eastern instruments and drops a conventional approach to melody for a two-and-a-half minute excursion that presents one of the few times here Mohawke’s ideas come off better on paper than in execution.

Lantern’s risk-taking is daring and giddy, but its favored mode, and Hudson Mohawke’s best, is hooky, crowded, rap-conscious electropop. Lead single "Ryderz" employs an old trick from Mohawke’s benefactor Mr. West—overlaying a sped-up soul sample with syrupy embellishments —to heart-busting success. "Shadows" assembles an army of 8-bit synths, then runs them through a quick, showy drop for a cheap but mercenary thrill. The album’s closing stretch plays sneaky games with pace. "Portrait of Luci"’s much-needed breather quickly proves to be a fake-out; "System" follows, combining manic keys and a pulsating, insistent kick drum for the album’s most conventionally clubby indulgence before "Brand New World" closes things out at half the speed, loud, ratty guitar in tow like an homage to the overdriven brat pop of Sleigh Bells.

Hudson Mohawke became an EDM circuit sensation sort of by accident three years ago with the success of TNGHT, and he spent the year after that with his hand in a number of 2013’s biggest rap releases. But Lantern finds him wisely darting outside both scenes before anyone gets a chance to pigeonhole him. Scores of great producers settle quickly into an identifiable sound after a big break and proceed to churn out variations on the same song until the calls stop coming. But Mohawke’s puckish eagerness to try new things when the most eyes are trained on him suggests he’s thinking past his next move to the one after that. A less talented hand might’ve faltered juggling six different genres as Mohawke does throughout Lantern, but his knowledge of what gets a crowd moving, coupled with his good cheer in both playing directly to it and coyly holding back as he pleases help keep the album’s experiments a minimum of fun and danceable, but more often shocking and delightful.