Back in my college days, I used to DJ -- if you could call it that -- at a nightclub that had invested in a spectacular sound and lighting system, but inexplicably kept all of its music on cassette. No turntables. No CD players. Just a pair of tape decks, without pitch control, almost entirely eliminating any real opportunities for mixing board heroics. Luckily, I had access to the student radio station's production room, so before every shift I'd record 45 minutes or so of "proper" DJ mixing. When the club's dance floor was suitably filled, I'd toss in the tape and pretend to be mixing the cassettes live. And it went down a treat.

Of course, that wasn't real DJing either -- it wasn't done in the heat of the moment, sweat-soaked headphones sliding off my ears as I attempted to differentiate between the beats on the cue channel and the rhythm bouncing off the back wall. That's why I've always had a hard time taking DJ Mix albums seriously. In a studio, any idiot with sufficient time and editing skills can sound like a world class mixologist. You'll still hear the occasional sloppy mix from substandard artists, but in general the DJ will only allow you to catch a tiny hint of the transition between songs. That's how you know he's doing his job, right?

With its Mixed Live series, Moonshine is giving the best DJs a chance to represent within their element. They've started out with a set from the estimable Carl Cox, recorded live at Chicago's Crobar a few short months ago. You can even hear the appreciative audience in the background.

Cox deserves his reputation as one of the world's best DJs. Working with a triple-turntable setup, he weaves a seamless mesh of slamming beats and stripped-down melodies. His transitions are so subtle and gradual, so well-matched in rhythm and key, that you'll have to watch the track numbers change on your CD player's display to catch them all. Unless you know every track he's spinning -- which would pretty much require you to be another DJ -- you'll hear Mixed Live as a single seventy-one minute revelation, filling your mind's eye with strobing images of sweat-drenched bodies entranced by the beat.

It is, however, linear. You're supposed to dance to it, or exercise to it, or toss it on the car stereo as you drive between clubs on a Saturday night. Listening at work, or during a long cross-country drive, may give you a screaming headache -- or more likely, an urgent need to drop what you're doing and dance.

Thanks to Cox's performance here, I can finally respect a DJ Mix album again -- not to mention eagerly awaiting future volumes in the series. Cox's Crobar stint, however, will be difficult to top.