Bran Van 3000's 1998 debut, "Glee," was a clever and confusing patchwork of hip-hop, disco and pop-rock signifiers. The album produced one underground hit, "Drinking in L.A.," whose sardonic take on the snarky side of the music biz endeared the mysterious Montreal consortium of artists and musicians to college-radio programmers.

Consequently, only cognoscenti have been eagerly awaiting the followup. BV3 supposedly broke up in 1999, but since the project was the goofy brainchild of one man, filmmaker Jamie "Bran Man" di Salvio, such rumors were easy to dismiss. Ric Ocasek initially provided production input for the sophomore effort, but thankfully that chore ended up in the hands of Beastie Boy Mike D, who also arranged to have the record released on the Beasties' Grand Royal label.

The BB imprimatur is important. If "Glee" was mostly interesting ideas masking a lack of musical coherence, the new album, "Discosis," is interesting ideas made serviceable by the kind of guests who actually shift units. Though not as startling as "Glee," "Discosis" is in every way an improvement: a real record of real songs, helped immeasurably by people like Big Daddy Kane, disco-revivalist Dimitri From Paris, legendary reggae-toaster Eek-a-Mouse, Youssou N'Dour and Qawwali artist Badar Ali Khan.

Confidence boosted, di Salvio has given his talent for pastiche freer rein. The album opens with "Astounded," to which the late Curtis Mayfield donated an a cappella vocal track he'd had laying around unused since the '70s. And if hip-hop was the alien music of choice on "Glee," here di Salvio moves past rap (which, by now, is a piece of cake) to genuine African and Caribbean motifs.

Di Salvio doesn't idealize these musical forms, he simply acknowledges their ubiquity: Originality is dead, long live originality. It's even there in the song titles: "Predictable," "Love Cliche," "Rock Star," "Loop Me" ("If you loop me into sound, I am found").

But rather than treat it ironically, he appropriates it with the imagination of a true polymath. Every cut poses a compelling, and often funny, musical question. What would Janet Jackson sound like if she'd grown up in a normal family? If Paul Simon had approached "ethnic" music with a sense of humor rather than solemn reverence, couldn't he have produced something like "Montreal"? Is indie weirdo Momus (another guest) Al Stewart's illegitimate son? I could go on like this all day.