Let's face it. For most people who buy this remixed collection of

collaborations between Qawwali singer Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

(Qawwali is the devotional

music of the Sufis, the mystics of Islam) and Canadian producer

Michael Brook,

Khan

is something of a novelty act, in the same way that Yma

Sumac (a singer from Peru who sang exotic versions of Incan and

South American folk

songs in America during the 1950s), Fela (Fela Anikulapo Kuti

was a Nigerian singer-

composer, trumpet, sax and keyboard player and political activist

who died last year) and even Enya are. I

haven't the slightest idea what Khan is saying, but it doesn't really

matter because it's the

feeling being conveyed that's important. (I mean, if

comprehensibility

were a prerequisite for musical appreciation, there would be no

audience

for people such as the Germs, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Kingsmen and

Yoko Ono.)

Even though I don't have a clue what

Khan is singing about, I don't think it's anything close to

sacrilege to add a few dope beats and sly samples to the mix.

And anyway, it's not like the producers of this compilation handed

Khan's songs

over to Puff Daddy or to some Miami Bass producer -- although at

times I wish they had

(I'll explain why later). And for the most part, the music on this

album has been kept

"in the family" by featuring Indian

stars of the current, culture-clash English dance scene:

Joi (no, not the American R&B singer), Talvin Singh, Black Star

Liner, Asian Dub Foundation and a few others.

Although most of these artists were raised in England and have

probably

given their parents headaches by pissing over and mixing up

elements of

traditional Indian music, they do manage to remain connected with

the musical cultures

of their ancestors. In the process, the tensions uncovered --

between old and

new, conservative and radical, and polite and rowdy --

make the music exciting.

Because I view all this mixin' up and tearing the roof off the

mother-sucker

as a good thing, it should come as no surprise that my problem

with Star

Rise is that sometimes these artists are a little too

reverent. They

don't wanna blow shit up, they just want to "recontextualize." The

Talvin Singh remix of "My Heart, My Life" is a perfect example --

Singh adds a tasteful,

stuttering drum-loop beneath a

descending melody line and various unobtrusive sounds, all of

which

highlight Khan's voice. As the song goes on, the drums intensify

slightly, but never

enough to shift the focus away from Khan's beautiful

singing. While the result might cause some Indian priest to jump

off a

cliff, I get the feeling it wouldn't have made Khan

squirm, let alone dance. Not that I claim to be his official

biographer or anything, but I do get the feeling that he gave the

green light

to this remix collection partly because it would allow a younger

generation to appreciate the

joy in his music.

There is some great stuff on here too. The Asian Dub

Foundation's remix of "Taa Deem,"

for example, makes

me want to party like it's 1999 -- or at least get drunk, dance and

pretend

it's 1999. Built on a typical dub bassline that goes boom

(pause) boom (pause) boom (pause) duh-duh-duh-duh, the Asian

Dub fellas

also throw in a few herky-jerky, drum-n-bass, spazz-out

percussion loops for

extra spice. In a true sign of remix production genius, "Taa Deem"

sounds

like Khan recorded his vocals explicitly for this low-riding

instrumental

track. During what has been refashioned into a chorus, Khan

sounds like

he's gettin' down and singing a Qawwali approximation of "doo-

wah-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-day" (I swear).

But during too much of this CD, I wished they had hired Puff Daddy

to

take the pristine and artful soundscapes that mark, for instance,

State of

Bengal's remix of "Shadow," and turn them into a ridiculously

overblown

remake of Andy Gibb's "Shadow Dancing" -- complete with Khan

rhythmically

chanting in the background. OK, so I might not want this to

actually

happen. (Although who knows -- maybe I do.) In the end, I guess I

just want a little less

respect and a little more throwin' TVs through hotel room windows

-- or the

sonic equivalent thereof.