5 is the fifth anniversary compilation from Hyperdub Records, a U.K. label specializing in dubstep and related subgenres. Urban legend says that dubstep first emerged from a small record shop called Big Apple Records in the South London Borough of Croydon. Key artists like Hatcha and Skream worked there at the turn of the millennium, together creating a dance style which amalgamated elements from house, dub-reggae, drum ‘n’ bass, grime, garage and dancehall. This new style quickly spread throughout London, eventually conquering the rest of the U.K. and elsewhere, most notably Berlin.

Although not all the artists on this compilation are London-based or even U.K.-based, to me its brooding, paranoid, and at times claustrophobic feel is an effective aural illustration of London’s modern day rat-race. Clearly a labor of love for label founder Steve Goodman (a.k.a. Kode9), this is a worthwhile showcase of Hyperdub’s impressive roster and what they have achieved in relatively little time as an unofficial beacon for the movement. Importantly, 5 smashes the caricature of dubstep as being little more than crude wobbly basslines with irritating MCs shouting “oh my days” repeatedly. It also flies in the dance of producers like Chase & Status and, recently, Skream, who are turning dubstep into a never-ending parade of soulless, mainstream pop remixes. In fact these 32 tracks belong closer to the cerebral, introspective dub-influenced branch of the dubstep spectrum. LD’s “Shake It” is the closest this album gets to bassline/minimalist house, with multi-layered springy, metallic drums and effects creating a dense groove which pulsates with internal rhythms. Yet this record still manages to portray how broad dubstep can be. From Black Chow’s Massive Attack-esque “Purple Smoke”; to the proto-dancehall of the Bug’s “Money Honey”; the twisted 2-step of Burial’s “Distant Lights”; or roots-reggae of LV’s “Globetrotting”; 5 proudly shows how dubstep producers can retain a plethora of influences without betraying the overall vision of the movement.

Darkstar’s “Aidy’s Girl is a Computer” is built around a beautifully simple Marimba ostinato, crisp drums, and some disturbing heavy breathing. The breakdown, which happens sooner than expected, sounds like a super-computer connecting to the internet. “Need You”, also by Darkstar, has a bouncy, playful garage bassline and hi-hat shuffle, ruined by an irritating and somewhat unnecessary computer vocoder sample. And it’s not just Darkstar who fails to use vocals tastefully. On “Time Patrol”, his track with Kode9, Spaceape repeats the line “You wana see what I see” so incessantly you quickly feel like skipping to the next track. Fortunately, the vocals on Zomby’s “Spliff Dub”, remixed by Rustie, are used sparingly and therefore effectively. Underneath he places a tight snare, crushing four-to-the-floor bass, a synth arpeggio, and a short but sweet old-skool rave breakdown.

Throughout Hyperdub’s artists display a broad palette of production styles. “Weekend Fly” by Cooly G is so sparse it almost fails to exist. On “Trash” Joker & Ginz make up for a clichéd, Trance chord sequence intro with a tumultuous bassline. Ignore the drawn out intro and grating, high-pitched synth, and Mala’s “Level Nine” is mesmerizing. LV’s “Globetrotting” employs a Burning Spear drum fill sample and Rasta vocals eagerly delivered by Erol Bellot, and “Turn Away” is an energetic piece of ‘Steppas’ dub, reminiscent of 90s act Dubital. 2000f and Jkamata’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is” revels in sweet soul vocals, West-Coast hip-hop keyboards and a vocoder reminiscent of Tupac’s “California Love”. Also taking us to the West Coast is California-based producer and DJ Flying Lotus, who carries on his family’s proud musical history (Alice Coltrane was his great-aunt) with his contribution, “Disco Balls”. His live shows are incredibly animated and engaging; I have never seen a DJ getting so physically into the music. Miraculously, this record manages to retain that energy, utilizing a fantastically lazy and skippy beat. It’s fairly obvious that Flying Lotus has different influences from the U.K. artists, but his novel approach is refreshing and rewarding.

Super producer Kevin Martin appears under two aliases on this compilation; The Bug and King Midas Sound. The latter’s self-titled track is downbeat and subdued, with a Nyabinghi percussion feel and poet Roger Robinson sounding like a 21st century Gregory Isaacs. His contribution as The Bug with dancehall M.C. Warrior Queen on “Money Honey” is a warped and raw piece of modern dancehall. Yet neither compare to massive tracks like “Skeng” and “Jah War” from his 2008 album London Zoo, released on Ninja Tune. In “Fukkaz”, Kode9 uses Chinese instrumentation to lay the groundwork for Spaceape’s cynical rant against modern society delivered in his trademark gruff patois. It’s deliciously dark and full of wrath, but The Bug’s version of this track (also on London Zoo) is even more compelling and militant.

Kode9 and Spaceape also fall slightly short with their interpretation of The Special’s “Ghost Town”. Its throbbing sub-bass, echoing melodica, police sirens and haunting lyrical delivery transform the 2-Tone staple into an engrossing post-apocalyptic tone poem. Yet it’s limited, linear structure and texture renders its initial power impotent after a couple of minutes. Fortunately, Kode9 redeems himself with the iconic “9 Samurai”. Its grandiose horn line, elliptical lyrics, and hypnotic, tension-building pedal note build to a huge oscillating bassline with layered drums parts creating concurrent half-time and double-time feels.

Dubstep’s once anonymous and still elusive Mercury-nominated golden boy, Burial, brings three tracks to the table. Always innovative and resourceful, he constructs instantly recognizable and brilliantly realized soundscapes from perverted vocal-garage samples; beats constructed from the sound of lighters, snapping scissors and shoot-‘em-up reloads; and lucid, penetrating bass. “Fostercare” is bare and ominous, with a lazy beat and vocal snippets soaked in delay and reverb. “South London Burroughs” is a much busier 2-step which paints an uncanny picture of the place he calls home. Put on your headphones and wonder around South London at night, and Burial might as well be creating a real-time improvisation to your journey.

Somewhat predictably, Quarta 3000’s “Bleeps from Out” starts with computer game sound-effects before diving head first into some disappointingly mechanical and heartless dub. A catchy tune appears every so often, but gets lost in between all the distortion and bleeps. His other contribution, a remix of “9 Samurai”, is inevitably a let-down. It seems to be constructed from the jarring noises a computer or TV makes when it’s dying. Putting such a poor version on the same compilation as the original was surely a mistake. Martyn also has a successful bash at the futuristic on the appropriately entitled “Megadrive Generation”, which employs a warm garage bassline, thick synth chords and angular drums. Zomby however pulls off this retro, computer game sound with significantly more panche than the others; his “Kaliko” and “Tarantula” are both deliciously surreal and eccentric.

Although not intentionally trying to choose a favorite, I couldn’t help coming back to Ikonika’s enthralling masterpiece “Please”. Its laserbeam melody is enchanting and addictive, and throughout rhythmic feels and expectations are explored. It starts with a half-time beat when my ears expected a 2-step, and after three minutes of teasing, Ikonika finally unveils a pounding part speed-garage, part funky-house beat. Like most of this compilation, “Please” begs to be played in a grimy club. Yet dubstep gigs rarely resemble your average club night. In a recent discussion a colleague of mine argued that jazz and dubstep have similar audience sensibilities as people will actually go to an event to listen rather than get rowdy. Although not entirely convinced by this analogy, I take his point. Dubstep is made for dancing (well, a sort of subdued, hypnotized shuffle at least), but it demands your unfaltering aural attention like no other dance form. Something jazz and dubstep definitely have in common however is that both have been unfairly branded as dead art forms. Although some sections of the movement have gone stale, I hope this extensive and important compilation will reinvigorate the scene and prove that dubstep is very much alive and kicking. Kode9 deserves to be chuffed. 5 stands as an awe-inspiring monument to both Hyperdub and the dubstep movement as a whole. Here’s to the next five years!