It's no big secret that the key to successful pop art is regurgitating disparate stimuli in a distinctive form. Jackson Pollock knew it. Andy Warhol abused it.

Jack Dangers is on the same wavelength. The sound-edit guru behind Meat Beat Manifesto, Dangers made his name by cross-pollinating the arty technology of Kraftwerk and Cabaret Voltaire with postindustrial noise. This strangest-of-bedfellows hybrid rocked the dance floor and, with the break beats of 1990's "Radio Babylon," foreshadowed jungle. With the double CD Subliminal Sandwich, Dangers' cultural Osterizing evolves to the nth degree of studio sophistication. What at first seems difficult to digest becomes more intriguing and intimidating with time – like an Escher drawing. The more you listen, the more you hear.

Raw, heavy dub bass is the order of the day on the first disc, with the vibe of Dangers' "Nuclear Bomb" and "1979" evoking the image of an encounter session between Front 242 and the Mad Professor. This yields to a weird mix of clinical edge and trippy malaise on tracks like "Asbestos Lead Asbestos" and "Phone Calls From the Dead." The overall effect is both rhythmically visceral and intellectually creepy.

The second disc is the pop-art coup de grâce: Dangers mixes and merges his material into ultraedited ambient excursions that veer well into get-out-the-but-terfly-nets sonic territory. The seductively schizoid "Stereophrenic" is a typical example: a Sybil-esque whirl through technology and sound that is as mind-blowing as it is masturbatory. But Dangers pulls it off in a polished and engaging manner, creating a sinister, sample-delic adventure packed with bite and industrial-strength bile. And it will work not only in those wee post-clubbing hours when you're out of Rohypnol but also on days when you just don't want to take your lithium. (RS 744)

BILL VAN PARYS