The breaks scene is alive and well in San Francisco, and Golden Gate Breaks offers some of the reasons why. With each track having at least one Bay Area connection, this compilation, mixed by Michael Tello (a.k.a. DJ Riddler? of the Uniting Souls crew), shows the healthy state of genres that often get lost in the shuffle of the so-called San Francisco sound (i.e., funky house).

Tello gets things rolling with a tight Bassnectar (Lorin Ashton) re-rub of Landslide's "Don't Give Up Now." On "Udu Shuffle," Ashton's deep bass thumps and solid drum programming keep the cut from flirting too much with psy-trance elements. S.F.-London producer DJ Abstract brings the beat science he's honed as a member of local collectives Phunckateck and BASS Kru. Noel Steirs contributes a two-stepped slice of tech, and Colossus (Charlie Tate) serves up a dose of soul on "Funkalistic."

Despite these solid tracks and others from Drop Culture and Mophono, Golden Gate Breaks is far from an unmitigated success. The programming is uneven, and Boswick Gates's strong "You Are the Reason" appears, even though it was on the first Colourforms compilation. In the end, Golden Gate Breaks works better as a reference guide than as the ne plus ultra of breaks mixes. (Peter Nicholson)

Cheb i Sabbah
As Far As (Six Degrees)

It's hard to know what most informs DJ Cheb i Sabbah's sensibility: His Algerian birthplace? Paris in the early '60s? San Francisco dance clubs? The array of musicians from the Middle East, Asia, and Africa with whom he has worked? Or is it a deeply felt, New Agey cross-cultural spiritual connection with peoples worldwide?

The questions could be put to San Franciscans who, for nearly 20 years, have danced to, listened to, and/or meditated with music played by Cheb i Sabbah. Best known for his long-running night at Nickie's BBQ, he has crossed the borders of popular culture to explore world musics, and in so doing has expanded those borders – which exposes great new sounds and recontextualizes them in a way that yanks the tradition out of traditional music. Still, when the muezzin calls us to prayer on Paul Horn's "Agra," before fading behind the ebbs and flows of a droning note and the minor-key melody of a flute, I wonder if the powerful reaction it invokes in me means it's reaching into timeless spiritual waters, or merely dredging up memories created by "exotic" soundtracks from B movies.