As such, "Snowbase" is moody, but not morose, with chimerical, atmospheric tracks such as the aptly-titled "5 a.m. Alone" set against more propulsive cuts such as "To the Stars," where the beats whiz by like mile markers while speeding down the highway.

Buckley, "Las Vegasphere Vol. 2" (buckleymusic.com): In keeping with the movie motif, if the above disc is an atmospheric indie flick, Buckley's latest mix is the equivalent of the big-budget summer action blockbuster best served with an oversized bucket of popcorn and some protective eye wear.

Taken from a live session on Sirius satellite radio, this sweaty medley of progressive trance anthems is driven by economy-size, arms-in-the-air synth lines and beats that register like rubber bullets to the chest.

"It's just madness," starry-eyed vocalist Tiff Lacey sings at one point, smack in the midst of a disc that pines for dance floor delirium.

Starkillers and Austin Leeds, "Nervous Nightlife: Vegas" (Nervous Inc.): On their first pairing together, these two DJs/producers craft the kind of heart-palpitating mix that should come with a defibrillator.

With an ear for soulful divas, jackhammer beats and synth lines that bounce around like kids on a trampoline, these two have set out to mimic an iPod on shuffle: There's yowlin' Lo Fidelity Allstars-styled electro rock (Hardrox's "Feel the Hardrock," which comes complete with Rob Halford-eque banshee wails), brassy soul slinky as a little back dress (Joi Cardwell's "Keep Coming Around") and the kind of wildly percussive, full-tilt house that, like the passing of time, is posited upon on perpetual motion.

Mr. Cin, "Hpnotiq and Chronic" (myspace.com/mrcin): A warning to the Cheetos averse: This hard-nosed Hispanic hip-hop is so THC-enhanced, it's enough to give you the munchies by osmosis. Subtle as a nail bomb, Mr. Cin's bilingual gangsta street rap is deliberately evocative of the harshest stretches of North Vegas, where the luster of the Strip is but a faint glow.

"Don't you dare try to tell me that my city is pretty," Cin growls at one point, setting the tone for an unflinchingly brutal disc colored pitch black by spare, gritty, G-funk keys and strings.

Still, I'll break rank and call it "pretty." Pretty grim.

Contact reporter Jason Bracelin at jbracelin @reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0476.