The fourth installment of the Respect is Burning mix series has a tough job. The first two releases exhibited the then-fresh sound of French House music-- the sound that served as the blueprint for so many filter-disco Daft Punk clones. With the third compilation, the series largely eschewed parochialism. A labor of love for Dimitri from Paris, Respect is Burning presents a Night at the Playboy Mansion reveled in classic, non-French, obscure disco cuts, re-edited for maximum joy by Dimitri himself. By cutting out tiresome, noodly chunks like the Originals' "Down to Love Town" and dropping in a club-friendly mix of Stetsasonic's "Talking all that Jazz," Dimitri compiled and mixed a flawless, spunky, and different compilation, and got so much satisfaction out of it that he immediately set to work on a deeply crate-digging three-disc set for the UK reissue label Barely Breaking Even.

So DJ Deep has his work cut out for him. Success is not a foregone conclusion. He has some laurels to earn. Schooled in the Todd Terry-style of New York house, Paris-based Deep received spin-training from the techno-inclined Laurent Garnier, though Deep keeps his mix strictly garage. Blasting off in the rawest possible way with a very early Kerri Chandler cut ("I'm Not Dreaming"), Deep smoothly rolls out the huge and sweeping sound of the large-lunged descendants of underground disco.

Regrettably, Deep takes no chances. He compiles several anthemic Masters at Work productions ("Life Goes On," "Elements of Life") as well as a Blaze joint ("How Deep is Your Love") that powerfully brings the gospel to the disco. Deep is focused on tracks that are far more big-room than the cozier, plusher tunes the Lazy Dog boys selected for their Astralwerks set. It's a truism, but songs such as Kimara Lovelace's "Misery" and Logic's "The Warning" are just too huge to fit comfortably for home listening. These are the deep house equivalents of hair metal's power ballad. The high-volume brashness of such tracks and their unwieldy, immense gestures flatten everything in their path. Such Godzilla tactics are unquestionably useful in a club setting where 7,500 punters have waited in line to be so brutalized. At home, the only thing I want to be smushed back deep into is my armchair.

In his sleevenotes, Deep complains that he's only got seventy-eight minutes to wow us with his pick of the garage crop. Is he slyly advertising his own DJ appearances? Let's hope that Deep retains his commitment to the underground and doesn't become a joke DJ who helicopters around from club to club, collecting $30,000 for an hour's caning of top 40 hits. For me, Deep has still to prove his dedication before I accord him the same devotion I give Dave Lee (aka Joey Negro) and Dimitri from Paris. This tough job is not over just yet.

-Paul Cooper