Considerably more commercial and far less adventurous that compatriot Prins Thomas’s recent off-the-wall Cosmo Galactic Prism mix, Hans Peter Lindstrom’s Late Night Tales veers dangerously into the space disco don’s obsession with adult rock, and the end result is the kind of mix you could give to your mum on her birthday. It’s nicely moody, nostalgic in the right places and fairly unchallenging. Admittedly after Prins Thomas’s sonic roller coaster expectations were high, but Lindstrom’s Late Night Tales is criminally bland. There is plenty of chug, an adjective that out and out defines the Nordic disco aesthetic, but not enough surprises from the vault to really blow your hair back.

As expected, being an installment in the always consistent Late Night Tales series, the design of the selection traditionally falls into the ‘chill out’ frame of mind but it’s the releases that seek to push that envelope to evoke a sense of self and stamp personality (think Four Tet, Novelle Vague and especially Mercury Rev ) that stand the test of time. Lindstrom’s mix is stand off-ish, sitting unobtrusively in the background which, for all intents and purposes, isn’t a bad ideal for a chill out comp. It’s just that for the incomparable Lindstrom, provider of swirling space house that has become a genre unto itself, you would expect a little more adventure.

It’s no surprise that Lindstrom chose Vangelis as the artist to cover for his Late Night Tales mix, an obligation taken on by every selector in the series, for the two composers share a dramatic kinship. Lindstrom, like Vangelis, has a stern lust for melodramatic melodicism and if you hear any one influence in Lindstrom’s music (particularly I Feel Space ) then it’s that surging, arpeggiated synth and soaring, stellar moog twinkles that defined the maestro’s Bladerunner period. Lindstrom does an amazing job covering Let It Happen, lamenting an almost ‘93 era Sasha/Age Of Love twist over Solale’s gently heaving vocals. With tense shots of handclaps and relentless slabs of sin wave bass, Lindstrom builds tension with ecstatic precision and at the crest drops Dusty Springfield’s stomping and glorious baby blue. It’s an ingenious moment that reminds you about the genius in space disco; Renaissance, Paradise Garage and Tremor all at the same time. That’s at its best, at its worst can be boring and stoic like Pekka Pohjola’s cringe worthy prog rock guitar dribble or Rainer Bloss’s yawning, cocaine addled Yaught rock, both of which sadly feature either side of Lindstrom’s intense magic bracket.

The dredging of Carly Simon’s catalogue was always going to yield a gem and the evergreen Why is one of the albums highlights, taught fleuro 80s faux reggae that is over produced and overdosing on synths, and the sweet bower bird balladeer Anja Garberek turns in a trippy number that raises an eyebrow. However the randomness of Lindstrom’s selection sounds surprisingly un random, whether that’s because we have caught up with the space disco sound’s meandering agenda is unknown but Late Night Tales is disappointingly pedestrian from a man who could have really reveled in this series.