There's something oddly academic about DJ culture. In its two-page biography of Sandra Collins', the Tranceport 3 press release lists ad nauseam Collins' various club residencies since 1992, as well as all of her guest appearances-- from the Electric Highway Tour (with Crystal Method and Fluke) to a Coca-Cola commercial to Woodstock (following Moby's undoubtedly crowd-pleasing set). Collins was named "Best Trance DJ" at the 1998 Global DJ Awards and "Best Female Artist of 1999" in an URB reader's poll. Even Spin has written about her! She must be huge.

This less-than-subtle vaunting affects me in much the same way as an author's blurb on a book jacket. Having a residency at Liberal U. doesn't mean the fiction won't read like, say, a boring press release. But I shouldn't blame the author for this, right? The publisher is the true braggart, desperately trying to sell unsalable books. So, we're not going to blame Sandra Collins. Every label does this with their artists. But the point remains: her credits mean nothing to me, so she's going to have to prove herself by making the next 73 minutes and 39 seconds of my time worthwhile.

Tranceport 3 opens with sparse, swirling atmospherics that slip in and out of consciousness. A woman says, "Warning," as if over an airport intercom system. The groundwork is being laid, the tension is palpable, this will take off. After a jolting burst, the album drifts into Astral Projection's "Liquid Skin." Initially uncomplicated, the track progresses into a complex dance anthem that peaks with staccato, halcyon keyboards and a thick, grounded beat.

Unfortunately, the thrill of the peak is erased by the derivative, capital C-L-U-B techno beats of F.U.B.A.R.'s "Think Tank." After an equally forgettable short number by Bradley, Collins hits the listener with Mara's "Desanitize." While equally as anthemic as "Liquid Skin," the song is muddled by unnecessary vocal samples and stuttering bleep digressions that sound straight off the Thompson Twins' Into the Gap.

The rest of the album manages to avoid such annoying effects. With its oscillating keyboards and well-timed handclaps, L.S.G.'s "I'm Not Existing" is over much too soon. And before you know it, you've arrived at the record's final track, Rank One's "Airwave." Arguably the strongest number here, the song brings the album to a fitting climax-- or rather, multi-climaxes-- with a soft beat and entwined, celestial synth chords. As one would expect, the transitions are flawless. With an album like this, a specific track listing with delineated boundaries for each song is naturally superfluous.

There's nothing organic about this album, but, of course, that's not the idea. This music is made to "feed your head." However, while Paul Oakenfold's first installment of the Tranceport series served as a sort of greatest hits, and Dave Ralph's worked like an after-hours mix, Sandra Collins' Tranceport 3 has a more selective niche. Often too melancholy to sweat to, but too accelerated to come down to, the album is perhaps best listened to with a few friends, a few couches, very low lighting and some Amsterdam Tylenol.

-Ryan Kearney