Antithugs

Global Underground has brought the superstar-DJ mix-tape into new currency and placed its mostly British cover jocks (John Digweed, Sasha, Paul Oakenfold) in every music chain, resulting in more than a million sales. Boxed Records owner Andy Horsfield told us last year that he planned to put more American spinners on G.U.'s decks, and he's done it on Global Underground: Moscow with Washington, D.C.'s Deep Dish, recently voted one of the Top 10 DJ acts in the world by the readers of DJ magazine.

The Iranian-born Dish duo of Ali "Dubfire" Shirazinia and Sharam Tayebi have become e-music moral authorities whose own work (Junk Science, the Yoshitoshi label) is anchored solidly in house, yet whose club performances offer challenging journeys across seas of breaks, tech-house and vocal progressive. These two aren't afraid of pop (they remixed the BT-produced 'N Sync hit "Pop," and their re-rub of Madonna's "Music" inspired a Grammy nomination), yet they're ballsy enough to stop the music in front of a glowstick-waving crowd and rebuild the night with puro house like Kings of Tomorrow's "Finally." The first disc on Global Underground: Moscow reflects this sensation of anticipation, rising on the wings of 16B vs. Morel's gorgeous "Escape," SSHH's dark, trigressive (tribal progressive) "Hold That Body," and a remix of Nat Monday's "Waiting" from New York's drum-happy producers of the moment, John Creamer and Stephane K.

The problem with this and other G.U. discs is that, even to the hardened trainspotter, they begin to sound formulaic, driven by straight-line anthems. Tribal king Danny Tenaglia broke through with Global Underground: London, and Deep Dish make a noble attempt here. But with remixes of Dido's "Thank You," Fatboy Slim's "Bird of Prey" and IIO's cheese-trance throwback "Rapture," this two-disc mix is certainly less underground and more global — as in global economics. (Dennis Romero).

FUGAZI The Argument; Furniture EP (Dischord)

A month after it happened, Fugazi released The Argument. Recorded early in 2001, the final song, the title track, emerges out of radio static: "When they start falling/Executions will commence/Sides will not matter now/Matter makes no sense/How did a difference become a disease?" Ian MacKaye writes the best bad high school poetry in the world, and his voice alternates between pugnacious little melodies and vicious drill-sergeant calls. It's a quiet song with funky yet avant rhythms and guitars that stutter along — clean tones keeping time like a finger massage walking its way up your spine. In the middle there's a short Moog reverie. And the song continues: "So it's all about strikes now/So here's what's striking me/That some punk could argue about some moral ABCs/When people are catching what bombers release."