It would be difficult to argue that the Feedelity label remains a well-kept secret now that its founder and main artist Hans-Peter Lindstrøm has become such a ubiquitous presence in dance music. If anything, it's tempting to ask whether, in October 2006, it's too late to get excited about Lindstrøm's brand of epic disco revivalism. However, It's a Feedelity Affair is packed with tried-and-true musical strategies for putting on a spectacle, and this overdue round-up of some of the greater and lesser-known Lindstrøm tracks off his 10 or so vinyl releases from the past few years makes clear that the Norwegian artist's production style remains as invigorating as ever, despite many of these deeply familiar tunes now approaching half a decade in age. Can we chalk this resilience up to timelessness, or simply good timing?

Partly it's just that disco never goes out of fashion. In dance music the question is always "which disco?", and it's a feature of Lindstrøm's music that it would feel at home alongside so many of the responses to this question that have been offered in the past decade, from the classicist disco of Faze Action in the late 1990s, to Metro Area's italo-disco, to the (so hot right now) ramshackle "hippie" disco peddled by Rub'N'Tug and the like. If the narrative arc of this crate-digging strand of disco fetishism moves from precision and chops to bleary swirl and ecumenical unpredictability, the secret to Lindstrøm's music is how it manages to be all these things at once. Even at his briskest and most uptempo (see the efficient pump of the appropriately titled early single "Fast and Delirious"), Lindstrøm can't resist woozy synth effects, pompous chord changes, and atmospheric percussion; conversely, the collection's most hippy moment, the torpid dub-disco of "Music (In My Mind)" (complete with deliciously smacked-out female vocals) nonetheless retains a delicate, expensive muso sheen.

It's a Feedelity Affair largely foregoes the multi-hued fragrancy and soft-rock glide of Lindstrøm's recent work with Prins Thomas in favour of ostentatiously astral motifs (particularly roaming, noodly synth solos) and more pronounced dancefloor grooves, and it invites the conclusion that the producer's strongest solo efforts are also his most tunnel-visioned. The album's lofty peaks are the now instantly recognisable chill sci-fi sheen of "I Feel Space" and the stately, widescreen bleeps of new track "The Contemporary Fix", whose stereopanning percussion, shards of glistening dulcimer, and endlessly percolating 303 bass aspire to a majestic strain of minimalism that could go anywhere. It's difficult to know whether Lindstrøm would be better served pursuing this line of flight from plush disco, or to follow the path he's taken with Thomas, concocting ever-more sumptuous flights of multi-instrumentalist fancy, such as on their gorgeous, Henrik Schwarz-style remix of Tosca's "Zuri". Either way, it's probably a good idea for him to now steer clear of the warm space-disco which dominates It's a Feedelity Affair, if only because there's little point in attempting to top his past achievements.

Still, even during the most representative and unashamedly retro moments here-- such as on the voluptuous 10-minute suite "There's a Drink in My Bedroom and I Need a Hot Lady"-- Lindstrøm resists charges of being a one-trick pony, weaving together an unlikely assortment of elements in tracks that continually (if often subtly) change direction. The criticism is not entirely off-base: There is something almost gimmicky about his lush, organic instrumentation and overblown psych-out synth climaxes. But while Lindstrøm may be a showpony, his posturing is hard to resent when his tried-and-true strategies are deployed so decadently, almost carelessly, like stray crumbs escaping from a bottomless bag of tricks.