1. A Mountain of One, "Freefall" (from Collected Works, 10 Worlds)
2. LCD Soundsystem, "North American Scum (Onanistic Dub)" (from North American Scum EP, DFA)
3. Fall Out Boy, "Thnks fr th Mmrs" (from Infinity on High, Island)
4. Prinzhorn Dance School, "You Are the Space Invader" (from Prinzhorn Dance School, Astralwerks/DFA)
5. Elk City, "Los Cruzados" (from New Believers, Friendly Fire Recordings)
6. Beck, "Cell Phone's Dead (Ricardo Villalobos Entlebuch Remix)" (from The Information: Deluxe Edition, Interscope)
7. Brad Paisley, "Online" (from 5th Gear, Arista)
8. Studio, "Life's a Beach! (Todd Terje Beach House Mix)" (from 12-inch, Information)
9. Britney Spears, "Get Naked (I Got a Plan)" (from Blackout, Jive)
10. Toby Keith, "White Rose" (from Big Dog Daddy, Show Dog)
11. Britt Daniel, "Bring It on Home to Me" (from Bridging the Distance, Arena Rock)
12. Bruno Pronsato, "There's Galaxies Better (Melchior Productions Spacecab Mix)" (from 12-inch, Hello? Repeat)

This is a mix about being an American. It didn't start out that way. The original intent was to make it about Saul Bellow (if that's a distinction worth making), specifically a line from Seize the Day that jumped out at me a few months ago in the midst of a virgin Bellow jag: "Ah, what people are!" It would be hard to find four words that better distill not just Bellow but the whole unqualified fate of being one of us, specifically one of the legions of U.S. us—the mix of indignation, bewilderment, and inspired joy that swerves toward rage while also steering verily against it.

So we start with something European: "Freefall" by the UK duo A Mountain of One stands in for the resurgence this year of melodramatic dance-music atmospheres that skew as "Balearic"—a term so European that it makes no sense here. (For the uninitiated, think of breezes on the isle of Ibiza during those times of day when you don't want to hear dance music anymore.) Then comes LCD Soundsystem's rapturously conflicted "North American Scum," with bonus points allotted for beats made weightless in James Murphy's own "Onanistic Dub." The preening brooders in Fall Out Boy have no less a cross to bear, and they bear it well, with an endearing sentimentality that manages to sell a song whose lyrics bemoan "Page Six" without sounding self-absorbed in the wrong way.

A working sense of cryptic American-ness established, Prinzhorn Dance School steps back to dash delusions of grandeur with a formalist plaint. "You Are the Space Invader," a post-punk song from an underappreciated album issued by DFA, sounds weirded out by all the weirdness around it. Elk City evokes a more homey sense of wonder, thanks in part to support from ex-Luna member Sean Eden (oh, what the lead guitar lines are!). Then comes Beck in distended form: Nothing threatens to kill the flow of a mix like a 14-minute track in the middle, but the rules change if that track happens to be an antic rework by the syncopation-happy techno whiz Ricardo Villalobos.

Beck's post-meaning kvetch about cell phones fades into the most thoroughly wowing song here. Among the hundred or so other ideas crammed into his epic "Online," Brad Paisley makes a show of enlisting a huge marching-band to honk over his song's hooky chorus . . . and then relegates it to a mere afterthought in the outro. "Life's a Beach!" indeed—though a different kind of beach for Britney Spears and Toby Keith. Britney comes across as eerily absent and pointed in a song that sounds more like the Cure than her, while Keith strikes a stirring note in remembrance of those old American institutions known as filling stations. Spoon's Britt Daniel knows the feeling in an aggrieved Sam Cooke cover from a compilation called Bridging the Distance. Over sparse shakers and flecks of guitar that scan as data drizzle, he sounds resigned to his fate but still hopeful for something more—as good a lead-in as any for the kind of minimal techno fashioned by a guy who works in Berlin under the name Melchior Productions. That's him on the remix of our closing track: "There's Galaxies Better," reachable, as the subtitle suggests, by space cab. Anyone want to go in on the fare?

Andy Battaglia is the city editor for The Onion A.V. Club in New York.