Diskjokke doesn’t stray too far from Lindstrøm's template of epic space disco. He keeps the original's infectious bounce and focuses his attention on curlicues like phasers, lasers and tasers. It's a reworking in line with the Mungolian and Leone collaboration, in which a relatively self-contained composition goes widescreen: the crescendos are bigger, the main theme more shiny, the track four minutes longer.
Arp also lengthens the original by more than two minutes, but he does it for ambience's sake, not pop thrills. His take is entitled a “Worn Cassette Version," echoing his stated interest in crafting records that are "warm…[and that deal with] memory, the degradation of memory, and revisionist memory." Which would be all well and good, if the guy could program a drum loop. Instead, the stunning vistas of synthesizer rub up awkwardly alongside a scratchy, unyielding loop that never bothers to be anything but distracting. So much so, in fact, that one wonders what might have been had he simply rid the track of a beat entirely. If you listen to his oft-stunning recent full-length for Smalltown Supersound, you can find out. Here, though, you're advised to stick to the A-side.