Gilles Peterson is the downbeat man of now. He's got a weekly radio show that's syndicated worldwide. He's the head of the jazz/funk/dance label, Talkin' Loud, and has the kudos and clout to pick the lushest cherries from the most exclusive of branches.

Though it's taken a decade for Peterson to become a publicly recognized personality, his accomplishments during that time are indisputably impressive. He's gone from pirate DJing out of his dad's shed and working with hopefuls and meager critical darlings like Marxman and Galliano to hanging out in celeb-encrusted eateries and discussing his next projects with Masters at Work, M.J. Cole, and Roni Size.

But Peterson's Talkin' Loud imprint changed when Roni Size's Reprazent collective stepped up to claim the £20,000 cash prize for being declared the Mercury Music Award winners. To be fair to Peterson, the award seems more a recognition of his patient championing of classy, sophisticated music for architects and PR execs than a gong for Size's bloated New Forms. In other words, your average house painter ain't going for Peterson's shit.

The INCredible Sound of Gilles Peterson is a showcase for the DJ to delicately mix an eclectic set of records together. And not surprisingly, a few Talkin' Loud productions appear. NuYorican Soul's version of "I am the Black Gold of the Sun" gets the remix treatment from 4 Hero, and if you ever wanted to hear Kate Bush singing R&B;, "I See," M.J. Cole's Knightsbridge boutique take on two-step, will do nicely. In fact, the track is so swoonsome, it threatens to demean the rest of this set with its subtle sheen. That task, however, is bravely burdened by Andy Bey and his mesmerizing performance of Nick Drake's "River Man." Bey retains much of the original arrangement but deliciously exaggerates Drake's well- concealed blues.

Peterson next shows off the breadth of his vinyl collection by including Minnie Ripperton's very "Dear Prudence"-ish psychedelic pop/soul nugget, "Les Fleur." Fortunately, we're spared any more hard-to-find, crate-digging, "I paid seventy-five knicker for this seven-inch-- it's that bloody rare" gems. Peterson follows Ripperton up with the surprisingly substantial "The Truth" by the Handsome Boy Modeling School, featuring bubblehead Roisin "Sing It Back" Murphy. From there, he heads into "Your Revolution," DJ Vadim's and Sarah Jones' feminist version of Gil Scott-Heron's timeless "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised."

The Philly soul of Critical Point's "Messages" brings us back from the brink of political hectoring with a Gamble & Huff disco string serenade made all the more slinky by King Britt's chum, Vikter Duplaix. And finally, Lenny Fontana concludes Peterson's set with "Spread Love," most definitely a classy flourish.

Though each of the tracks compiled on The INCredible Sound of Gilles Peterson are splendid in their own ways, the title of this disc irks me. I agree that many children have given up dreams of being train drivers or nurses for fantasies of becoming as huge a high-brow DJ as Peterson. Hey, I'd love to have my own global radio show and hang out with Kenny Dope and Louis Vega! But Peterson would be nothing without the musicians who are relegated to second billing on this disc. These are not Peterson's incredible sounds-– they're the ones he spins. This is a minor quibble, though, because the collection is, without doubt, one of the most filler-free DJ comps released this year. It may all be gyro wrapping next year, but for now, it hits a very sultry sweet spot.

-Paul Cooper