A question naturally arises in response to this seamless concatenation of ten different versions of Maurice Ravel's infamous and irrepressible Bolero: "Why? Isn't the piece repetitious enough as it is?" Yes, we all know how it delights in presenting its two exotic melodies over and over again, raising the tension through orchestration and sheer volume.

But even the original is more of an experiment -- though a truly beguiling one -- than a fully formed piece of music. (As Ravel himself said of it, "C'est une blague" - it's a prank.) On this album, Ravel's score becomes a blank slate on which performers and arrangers draw their own picture of the Bolero experience. Four different conductors tackle the work in its original form, but with strikingly diverse approaches. Charles Munch will make a flamenco dancer appear in your living room with his transparent, rhythmically precise reading, whereas Serge Koussevitsky's epically distant interpretation might fit well as the background music for a documentary about glaciers.

The more unconventional Boleros include Tomita's synthesizer fantasy (with an interesting take on the notion of the "fadeout"), a foxtrot for the dance hall, a Lisztian virtuoso piano rendering courtesy of Morton Gould, a peppy arrangement by the Canadian Brass, and a (nearly) all-percussion performance by Evelyn Glennie.

In all, here we have a thoroughgoing meditation on sonority and texture, a postmodern critique of the supposed autonomy of musical works, ideal atmosphere music for parties, and a stimulating conversation piece. What more could you ask for?