I recently had the chance to catch Timo Maas at New York's Twilo, the premier dance venue where Maas enjoys a bi-monthly residency. This evening the German-born DJ was hosting a release party for his Kinetic debut, Music for the Maases -- one of several mix CDs hitting stores this month -- and the crowd couldn't have been more ecstatic. "Ti-mo! Ti-mo! Ti-mo!" they chanted in time to Maas' beats. The DJ replied in turn, matching the intensity level of his music to that of the bobbing bodies in the room.

Maas' set certainly had its moments: At times, he'd build a run of house beats into a crashing climax that whipped the crowd into a synchronized leaping mass. But it also had its low points, where Maas would swipe the beats out from under his dancers' feet. It's a clever (if not overused) trick DJs employ to stir things up. But for the gimmick to succeed, the DJ must reintroduce the beats just a few seconds later -- which Maas continually failed to do. Instead, he'd let this crucial interlude lapse into a long stretch of percussive murmuring, leaving his audience with nothing to do but clap their hands -- or stand around looking bored.

Such highs and lows exist on Music for the Maases as well, but, thanks to the genius of studio production, they're far less noticeable. The double CD compiles both Maas' original and remix work from the past few years, from his well-loved remix of Azzido Da Bass' "Dooms Night" to his recent single, "Der Schieber." Maas' wide-ranging style incorporates house, techno, minimalism and trance; but this eclecticism can make for bumpy DJ sets, and the same holds true on the album. Disc one focuses on Maas' dark side, closing out with a beat-heavy remix of "Flash" from techno loudmouth Green Velvet. It also features several Maas originals, including the minimalist trance number "City Borealis" and the equally minimalist techno track "Riding on a Storm." Disc two, meanwhile, peeks into the lighter side of Maas' psyche. Starting with his mix of Paganini Trax's "Zo‰" -- which starts off as an ambient wash and grows into a resplendent keyboard melody that borrows from Underworld's "Rez" -- the disc also features such beauties as Maas' reworking of Lustral's "Everytime," and its beat-free interludes of Tracey Ackerman's breathy vocals. Still, though the discs are arranged somewhat thematically, neither is free of style-mixing -- and therefore neither is exactly a smooth listen. There's nothing wrong with Maas showing an interest in multiple sounds. It's just that his transitions between these sounds don't always make sense.

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