The In Sound From Way Out

On Out There and Back, Paul Van Dyk finally seems to have figured out the evasive balance between the hardcore and the candy-coated, bringing us brilliant tracks that deliver haunting vocals and melodies without skimping on trance sounds and beats. The album strikes a blissful deal between Van Dyk's trance pedigree and the more vocal and melody-based dance music that has become popular stateside with the help of Brits like Moby, Fatboy Slim and the Chemical Brothers.

While this may sound like more market propaganda used to add one more category to the already burgeoning list of genre labels, it's not. This is what the future of techno sounds like. It seems like many DJs are finally finding a way to meld the proverbial schism that has risen up through the cracks of that big umbrella we call techno ever since the varying styles began to take the music in different directions. Fusion seems to be the magic word for Van Dyk-he joins emotion and rhythm together in song after song.

Out There and Back begins with a track called "Vega," which is all about ascension, like a slow, deliberate rise onto the mothership. Everything about the track, from the vocals to the organs, gives the sensation of being lifted into somewhere not quite terrestrial. The next track, "Pikes," was written in a hotel room on the island (and dance music mecca) of Ibiza, giving it an ethereal, breezy feel that evokes images of the environment of its creation. Other tracks like "Columbia" and "Tell Me Why (The Riddle)" are as energetic and explosive as they come.

This album is a great compromise for those who are missing out on the club scene this summer and want to get that club-fresh feeling in the comfort of their own homes. The disc is hard enough to induce an all-out dance frenzy under the strobe lights, yet smooth enough to keep you company as you relax far away from the neon glow.

Perhaps the best feature of the CD is the way it flows from track to track. As one sound gives way to another, strong bass lines and breathless, dreamy vocals-mostly sung by Van Dyk's wife Natasha-give the transitions a comfortable fluidity. But continuity does not translate into monotony-the tracks retain separate identities as they rise and swell into one another. The progressions are not unlike those of a book of short fiction: each chapter tells a separate story, yet each story gains more significance in the context of the other tales surrounding it. The result is an artfully constructed album that can make you feel transported in or out of the club. You don't need to be a club-savvy gatecrasher to appreciate this album's fluidity and power-but then again, maybe it wouldn't hurt.