But his latest project, a DJ mix CD that mainly features Metalheadz performers, is more a testament to his pop market appeal than to his skill as a DJ. Here Goldie simply lays down a series of other people’s tracks, adding very little other than his image on the CD cover and a hefty, seven-page, Levi’s sponsored fashion spread and fanzine insert. While the 26-track, double-CD set highlights a comprehensive sampling of U.K. drum ‘n’ bass heavyweights like Alex Reece, Optical, Doc Scott, Grooverider and J. Majik, the Goldie-centric presentation minimizes the importance of the featured artists, and disguises what the CD really is: a high-end dance music compilation.

Goldie’s bit of self-promotion taps into the otherwise unfair criticism of DJ-mixed CDs — that the medium shines an uneven amount of attention on the DJ, whose presence eclipses those who actually made the music. In most cases, the DJ-mixed CD provides one of the most reliable journeys into the hard-to-find world of electronic music, where 12-inch vinyl singles dominate the market. Although the tracks on “INCredible Sounds of Drum ‘n’ Bass” are nothing less than exceptional, they are mostly d’n'b standards.

Maybe this mix CD is an attempt to repair Goldie’s waning significance in the drum ‘n’ bass scene. Goldie’s last album, “SaturnzReturn” (1998), ambitiously veered into pop, which drew criticism from the purist crowd. Goldie is still the active force behind the Metalheadz label, but his recent projects have demonstrated a preference for Hollywood screenings over earth-rumbling levels of sub bass. Any moderately serious fan would probably already own most of the tracks on “INCredible Sounds of Drum ‘n Bass.” That means that Goldie, who was once a break dancer and graffiti artist, just isn’t putting his ear to the streets.

His newest project, the remix record “Subliminal Minded: The EP,” won’t clear up the street-cred that the underground mercilessly demands, but some of the tracks are expertly rendered. The album is a collection of brilliantly executed remixes from last year’s “Riddim Warfare,” Spooky’s first complete venture into the hip-hop, dub and jungle structures of dance music.

Here Spooky brings in an exceptional crew of knob-twiddling assistants, including Prince Poetry and Pharoah Monch (formerly of Organized Konfusion), The Dub Pistols, Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine, drum ‘n’ bass producer DJ Wally, Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore and Karsh Kale, a tabla player and turn-tablist with Asian underground supporter Talvin Singh. Even the harshest Spooky critic will be hard pressed to find fault with this project. He’s remixed beyond recognition and sent into a more ruggedly musical terrain.

The Spooky-style concoctions of melodic dissonance and uneven beat structures are mostly absent in this more straight-ahead dance music journey. The album immediately launches into a mystical hip-hop realm with Prince Poetry and Pharaoh Monch’s version of “Rekonstruction,” a psychedelic fusion of wickedly pumping bass, hectic beats and perfectly ferocious MCing. DJ Wally’s take on “Peace in Zaire” rocks into a jagged jungle rhythm, laden with thick, warped keyboards and an ominous, hollow percussion. The Dub Pistols, for their part, shed an entirely different light on “Peace in Zaire” with a hard-rocking ska-flavored reworking — the result is innovative, making it one of the album’s finest tracks. Karsh Kale inserts a sinuous, jungle/tabla rhythm into “Futureproof in Zaire,” and keeps the emotion raw and melancholic with uneasy bass lines and somber chanting samples. Between each track Spooky adds his tripped-out touch with brief ambient-toned abstractions and experimental tweaks.

Perhaps “Subliminal Minded” partially reflects Spooky’s desire to find acceptance in the underground. By handing his work over to a broad cross-section of electronic music producers, he is able to go beyond his own reputation and reach his remixer’s fans. Or maybe he’s transfixed simply by the weird irony of the record, which speaks to the strangeness of sample culture. With a remix that more or less betters what was essentially a remix to begin with, Spooky has gone beyond a now-tired debate in musical aesthetics. Here, samples are certainly more interesting, moved even further away from their original source.

The diverse sampling of artists on Planet E — the label run by Detroit techno innovator Carl Craig — proves that the techno aesthetic still thrives in the Motor City, where the music was pioneered by Kevin Saunderson, Derrick May and Juan Atkins in the late ’80s. The classic Detroit sound is loosely characterized by sparse instrumentation and limited vocals alongside a hybrid of electro, funk and dramatic deep house dance rhythms and melodies. The sound is the antithesis of the speedy, hard European variety that eventually took over in the early ’90s and stigmatized the original Detroit product.

Lauded as visionary musician and DJ by his peers, Craig devised “Geology” to navigate listeners through the roots of Detroit techno as well as illuminate the current direction of soulful techno, which now also stretches into drum ‘n’ bass. In addition to tracks from Craig’s own projects (69, Innerzone Orchestra, Paperclip People), the album also features a number of influential early cuts by artists such as Moodyman, Common Factor, Gemini and Jason Hogans — not all from Detroit, but all dedicated to the sound of Detroit.

The Planet E artists build complex rhythms and melodies through a very frugal, controlled use of sound. The machine is their palette. Craig’s “If Mojo Was AM,” an ode to an old Detroit radio DJ named Electrifying Mojo, is a sublimely simple, purely hypnotic dance track built from a conga drum loop and laid over a deep, steady bass line. Nick Calengart of Common Factor brings in a straight-ahead techno house sound with Horizons, a beautiful, house-club-anthem worthy single that kicks into pared-down funk, uplifting keyboards and happily frantic disco beats. Drum ‘n’ bass filters in through Jason Hogans’ “Esteem,” a gradually building, spaced-out break-beat jazz piece, while Felxitone keeps the bass lines wobbly with the acid house and electro inspired Electricity.

“Geology” is filled with a broad range of sophisticated dance music sounds, and poses a challenge the emotionless, misinformed stereotype of techno. Detroit techno is still first and foremost about soul. Listen closely with your windows open and you’ll hear the city cry along with it.

Welding together signifiers of apocalyptic doom — Gothic opera vocal samples, shadowy minor chords, Wagnerian orchestrations, jolting beats, demonic heavy metal — Genaside II build a set for a sort of street-smart, techno break-beat “Phantom of the Opera.” The premise of the group’s second full-length (after a string of singles that dates back to 1991) is fairly simple. Over comic-book instrumentation, both black and white MCs rhyme about — what else? — violence and being gangsters. Sure, at times the whole project is annoyingly silly, but behind the group’s mask of adolescent horror there’s a clever report on the state of electronic music.

Opening with a sound bite from the horror-viriti “Faces of Death” video, “Death of the Kamikazee” is a teenage techno-metal head’s wet dream, complete with head-banging rhythms and a goofy vocal saying, “I’ll fucking kill you.” “Mr. Maniac,” inspired by a bandmate who threw a bottle at a former stagehand, kicks off with a quivering whimper and an evil-sounding laugh track.

With more over-the-top tracks like “Paranoid Thugism,” “Bulletproof Jumper” and “Bizarre Bleedin’,” the album at times devolves into a lost hybrid of operatic theater and Halloween special effects. But colorful and weird theatrical performances transform the somewhat banal violence into serious subversion. Tricky — the owner of Genaside II’s Durban Poison label — makes an appearance on “Paranoid Thugism,” a mean, chaotic piece that builds into aggressive electro frenzy. And “Casualties of War,” which features a vocal from what sounds like a depressed drunk, plays like a British pub song accompanied by hard-driving breaks, gloomy tones and spooky piano solos.

Throughout “Ad Infinite,” Genaside II embrace the ominous clichis of darkcore, a type of drum ‘n’ bass that floats on testosterone and self-conscious creepiness. But the collective does it with such ridiculous bombast that it seems to be actually parodying those trends. Maybe it’s because of the group’s history. Head Genaside producer Chris Bonez is responsible for creating one of the earliest techno break-beat tracks, “Narramine,” which helped prefigure jungle in 1991. That genre, after a brilliant beginning, quickly split into dozens of subgenres like darkcore, where hundreds of producers now try to capture doom and gloom with mopey minor chords and vicious rhythms. Genaside’s significant historical role separates the group from the newer generations of techno and drum ‘n’ bass producers. And that seniority certainly gives them the authority to come down on some of the newcomers. That would make “Ad Finite” an elaborate joke, a satire complete with macho lyrics and aggressive, knucklehead beats. Either that or an absurdly violent video game with a killer soundtrack.

Watt and Thorn, who are married, have played together for 17 years. Here, they fool around with any genre that suits their fancy. Unlike most producers, they’re willing to shift between jazz, jungle, house, downtempo and indie rock, never settling on any one distinct sound. That approach doesn’t always resonate with the genre-obsessed underground. At the same time, the openness is part of what made Everything But the Girl instrumental in introducing electronic music to listeners beyond the small dance-floor circuit — an achievement that peaked in the States with New York deep house pioneer Todd Terry’s gorgeously melancholic remix of their single, “Missing,” which charted at No. 2 on Billboard’s Hot 100 in 1996.

The following is a recent e-mail interview conducted with Ben Watt, who wrote from his London studio.

What inspired you to start DJing in the underground again?

To be frank, I had never DJ’d before 1996. It was [producer and DJ] Howie B who encouraged me to start spinning during the making of “Walking Wounded.” I began in the underground because my first contacts were through Howie. I was bored with traditional approaches to playing and arranging music. I wanted fresh input. DJ cut-up techniques, merging sounds, mood building — they all appealed to me. It seemed more attractive than picking up a six-string guitar again.

Is it important for an electronic music producer to go out in the clubs in order to understand the energy of the underground?

Of course not. Many musicians work in the realms of electronic music and have never
stepped foot in a club. To capture the vibe of the dance floor is a different matter however. Dance-floor music needs a special approach to EQ, balance, weight. Drums need bass, presence and bite. Sonically this is very different to the hi-fi production techniques that suit home stereos. After the making of “Walking Wounded,” I became more and more addicted to this kind of sound. I wanted to take that sound to a pop audience without losing sight of strong narrative songwriting and soulful singing.

Did Todd Terry’s remix plant the seeds for your turn toward deeper house?

Todd’s mix was part of a broader offensive. We were despondent with the position we found ourselves in in the early ’90s, isolated from an emerging generation of listeners. We were adamant that ideas from dance culture should inform our songs — not unlike our exploration of soul and bossa in the early ’80s. We looked into areas that suited our mood — downtempo funk, deep house, jazzy drum ‘n’ bass. I see Todd’s mix, the collaboration with Massive Attack, my own remix of “Missing” under the pseudonym Little Joey and ultimately my submergence in the London drum ‘n’ bass scene as all part of this new broad-based offensive around 1994.

A tedious question: How would you describe the house on “Temperamental”? Basement Jaxx and Todd Terry say “deep” is over. What would be your new terminology?

Todd’s mix of “Missing” wasn’t really deep house in itself. It only had a kind of deep mood because of the melancholy melody and the sound of Tracey’s voice. Todd’s beats were pure prime time in themselves. However I still feel any house music that feeds off the rich, soulful, minor-chord sounds of soul and blues and funk will still be deep house to me.

When I DJ deep house, I look for a slow build towards a kind of bonded, almost spiritual feel on the dance floor — not simply hands-in-the-air Saturday night frenzy — and I know from experience that this works. Look at [15-year-old club] Body and Soul in New York if you want a really successful example. Modern deep house has learned how to hit the dance floor running, where the beats are fat and the grooves are funky. Gone are the days of limp kick-drums and ham-fisted Fender Rhodes solos.

I’m sure it’s different in London, but here in San Francisco, harder drum ‘n bass dominates the underground. Soulful house is always there to find, but the edgier underground can be rather gloomy.

I got depressed as darkcore drum ‘n’ bass stifled the soulful drum ‘n’ bass sounds of ’95-96, but it came about because many of the main players in the scene were scared of it going overground too early and they pulled it back under a stone. That move has dominated the past couple of years. However, many of them are now realizing that this is a dead end. I have spoken with key players like Grooverider and Roni [Size] and I can tell from their latest plans that the funk and the soul is coming back into the scene.

The “Missing” track helped propel house music into the mainstream. Do you want house to go mainstream? A lot of people in the underground are snotty as fuck about that.

I would say that much of house music goes mainstream on a fairly regular basis this side of the Atlantic. The charts in Europe are dominated by house music, albeit mostly of the hard trancey variety. This is because Europe got used to house with the acid house and rave explosion in the late ’80s. In America, meanwhile, house music still suffers ghettoization because of its origins in disco, and gay and black subculture, and this keeps it marginalized. But a good song is a good song and house tracks will break through onto radio with good songs. Broadly speaking though, the genre itself will stay underground in America as long as clubbing remains underground. Everyone in the U.K. goes clubbing at weekends. I can’t see Midwestern and rural America dancing their boots off to Danny Tenaglia just yet!

One of the things Everything But the Girl have is the power to introduce new forms of music to listeners on a broader level than most electronic music producers. You can put jungle beats and house vibes all in the same album, and very few producers would try that.

I feel that a solely genre-based appreciation of dance music is utterly destructive. No one ever expected Stevie Wonder or James Brown to only play at one rigid tempo! Songs either swing and rock or they don’t, regardless of tempo. In the end, I look for soul and drama and groove whether it is DJ Krust, Deep Dish or Massive Attack.

How can musicians in electronic music avoid getting stuck into that annoying “genre” trap?

By breaking out of it with good music at other tempos and by keeping their projects under one name — not hiding say, their downtempo tracks under one pseudonym and their Detroit techno experiments under another. We could easily have ditched the name Everything But the Girl at various points in our career because of its negative connotations, but in the end I feel we have garnered respect for sticking with it and simply moving with the times.

I think the aggressiveness in drum ‘n’ bass is a needed component to dance music. How does drum ‘n’ bass make you feel spiritually?

Aggression is a necessary component in all music. Dark, nihilistic music has its place too. But in the end I want to go to a club to be filled up in a soulful and spiritual way, and darkcore jungle and drum ‘n’ bass don’t do it for me in that context. Sometimes I will drop in at a drum ‘n’ bass club on my way home from a deep house night, just for a quick blast of dark, chilly air!

Here’s the $10 cheeseball question: If you two were on a boat, sailing clear into the sea with nothing more than some beer and a fat sound system, what would you play?

Tomb Raider.