As far as I'm concerned, the remix enjoyed its commercial and artistic peak in 2003. R. Kelly's brilliant "Ignition (Remix)" was self-aware, witty, eminently danceable, and unerringly fun-- in short, everything the original "Ignition" was not. Kelly proved to John Barth-lovin' meta-geeks what pop and dance fans already knew: that remixes can, in fact, be more accessible and successful than the original singles and album cuts.

Kelly broke the mold; with Remixes 81-04, Depeche Mode take credit for setting it. Yes, there's finally someone to blame for "Beetlebum (Moby's Minimal House Mix)" and Bush's Deconstructed! "The remix story of Depeche Mode can be viewed as a history of the remix," Paul Morley crows in the liner notes, perhaps forgetting the whole of Jamaican music. But as this sprawling three-disc set attests, DM's relationship with the remix-- from the 12-inches of the band's putative Vince Clarke years to a new collaboration with one of the Cro-Magnons in Linkin Park-- is both long-term and encompasses everything from electro-dub to extended dance remixes to hip-hop to house.

It stands to reason, then, that this compilation is frustratingly scattershot. Collectors may salivate over Adrian Sherwood's white noise-laden mix of "Master and Servant" (previously available only on a rare 1984 vinyl release), but casual fans-- who, incidentally, would otherwise be well advised to stay the fuck away-- might enjoy Air's typically chilled-out "Home" or the first five minutes of DM's own 1987 re-working of "Never Let Me Down Again". On the other hand, anyone with ears should avoid Danny Tenaglia's 12-minute "I Feel Loved", with its heavy-handed beats and endless echoey repetitions of the title lyric.

In some cases, this record reminds us how technologically far remixes have come from the days of simply splicing and extending a song's break or adding a heavier foot to its bass (see: Daniel Miller's fine but rudimentary 1981 "Just Can't Get Enough" remix). Other extended 12-inches don't fair as well: "Get the Balance Right" is stretched like a Navigator with unremarkable instrumentals, and uber-producer Flood piles the worst elements of sophistipop balladry onto "A Question of Lust".

Thankfully, at least a few of the remixes add some interesting twists, mirroring the shift over the past two decades toward artists using a remix to transform an original recording rather than just tweak it. DJ Shadow augments the emotional entreaty of "Painkiller" with classic soul samples and driving bass. Dave Clarke's "Dream On" builds upon gentle acoustic guitar arpeggios and fake strings with nary a hint of the original. A mix of "In Your Room" by Johnny Dollar and Portishead scratches and smolders like vintage mid-1990s trip-hop (it was released in 1994, after all).

Not all of the more transformative remixes succeed, however. Although DJ Muggs' "Freelove" mix is ultimately flawed, its hard-edged, guitar-based approach offers a promising premise for future remixers-- why not dress DM's synth-pop in the costumes of other genres until you find the right fit? Then there's the car crash at the end of the tunnel, Underworld's misguided "Barrel of a Gun" remix. I forget all my mid-90s micro-genre names, but there must be one for nine brain-dead minutes of window-rattling 180bpm drum loops.

A limited-edition third disc boasts the set's only new material. As with everything else here, it's a mixed bag: Rex the Dog provides a solid electro-house update of early single "Photographic", Dave Gahan's lovely performance on "Halo" is gussied up by Allison Goldfrapp's accompanying vocals, and Ulrich Schnauss's "Little 15" is eerily sparse. The massive record concludes with "Enjoy the Silence" as "reinterpreted" by Linkin Park's Mike Shinoda. Appearing on the band's 1990 masterwork Violator, the original single was an elegant, expressive take on an old theme, one familiar even to Gloria Estefan: "Words Get in the Way". But I'd take Miami Sound Machine over Shinoda's thuggish faux-rebellious thrash and his penchant for using Pro Tools-perfect guitar distortion that's as frigid as your ex-girlfriend. "Words are meaningless and regrettable," Gahan sings, and so is this remix-- in all of its antiseptic glory.