"There must be more/ yeah my heart I hold to this/ I’ve known the joy of love and I’ve seen the peace and bliss/ But as you know/ All things must end/ Except the need for faith and the spirit that’s within/ And, to keep you strong, when it seems you’re about to break/ Just call upon the strength within and plan it as your stake/ Move forward with power/ Program yourself to feel/ With depth enough to know what’s up and heart to sense the real/ Where you at…"

Above summarizes an enlightening speech that starts Decks and the City, highlighting the need for inner strength, spirituality and faith. So early 90s, yet so classic. If there’s one thing that good techno producers can do well, it’s to remind you of why you started sneaking out to attend these parties at 14 in the first place.

Listening to the cryptic entrance to a hot compilation of: techno meets 1989, jungle beats meets B-52s, Erasure keyboards meets Dimitri from Paris, synth meets 2002 Layo and Bushwacka, and some old sax riff that could have been on any INXS album, I fall into a similar rut as fellow music journalist Jason Newman does when reviewing The Detroit Experiment; how do I categorize this album? Instead of focusing on directing the sound, I’d rather detail each track, something I rarely do but prefer simply because nothing else will do this album justice.

Why is DATC good? Easy. It’s techno, pure and simple, encompassing all bonafide facets of electronically produced music. Just when you start to get a little freaked out by Derrick Carter’s monologue, "Where You At?" you’re pleasantly dropped into moderately-paced, Spanish-flavored Alexander East’s "Jest For Me," replete with subtle, outer space, well, bleeps…a la Star Trek. German duo (and brothers) Ali and Basti Schwarz pick up the pace a bit with "You," a track that retains a bit of Latin flavor but focuses more on making the listener reassess where the beat is going. That’s right, they’re making you think. (Turn off DJ Sammy, that’s not techno, that’s horseshit.) "Chorus," a tight production by Bushwacka, the acclaimed other half to Layo, really makes it hard to sit still and write this review, and it only gets more difficult with the following tracks.

Paul Johnson’s "Get on my Camel," is a no-brainer; the mosquito drone and hard congo breaks are complemented by the intermittent vocals of someone who sounds suspiciously like the yelling house grandma on "I See You Baby" by Groove Armada. You know who I’m talking about. "Horney Hustle" (Twisted Pair) is a bit too jazzy and consistent to live up to the title, but then Tony Thomas’ "Living It" really creates the peak of the album, with eerie drops, solo bass lines, and an increasingly darkening beat. Carter makes a remix appearance on Tony Senghore’s "Hey Chica," where a myriad of yelling females rhyme various phrases with hey chica. It works because it doesn’t last longer than it should; Hipp-e and Tony, followed by DJ Sneak, chill things out a bit with "Shine" and "Wickedy Sounds," respectively, providing a nice interlude before reintroducing the chica lyrics and sliding into a funky soundscape of pure synth and steady beats.

The rest is only a farce, though, because "Louder 5.1" (La Fractoria Posse) introduces insane combinations of snares, synth, and random sound rushes of water and…traffic. The madness continues with Little Bossa’s "The Riddle," showcasing extra-heavy bass pounds and the eerie outer space noises heard earlier. "Oil and Steel" is a slight disappointment, simply because one really gets used to the faster pace and, here, Plant provides a more moderate beat. Again, though, 45 seconds later and you’ve got 4 minutes left to enjoy the final track, "5.05" by "Ilana," a track whose hardcore-but-not-cheesy pop synths would even appease Donna Summers’ fans.

Decks And the City is a brilliant way to kick off the series, if not just for the reputable artists and label behind it, then at least for the 64 minutes and 40 seconds of sensuously blended beats and sounds that will only prevent you from getting any time on a soggy leather barstool.

Yasmin Tabi