With Træns, Prins Thomas explores the common ground between his trademark space disco style and the euphoric trance sound that was prevalent throughout the 1990s. For the most part, he channels trance's more tasteful elements, focusing on shimmering synths and letting the percolating rhythms build steadily, rather than constructing overblown epics with endless breakdowns and bombastic, Wagnerian melodies. Nothing here sounds too self-important or dramatic -- Thomas' take on trance is a smoothly hypnotic ride rather than a peaks-and-valleys emotional roller coaster. The first several tracks veer a lot closer to disco and house than trance, filled with handclap-driven rhythms and hazy, swirling pianos (on "Træns 5"). It's only on "Træns 6" that the glitzy arpeggios begin to creep in, adding spikes of tension as well as ecstasy, yet never quite boiling over. Thomas seems to know his limits, and refrains from pushing his music into a gaudy spectacle. "Træns 9" does flirt with melodrama, establishing a melody with harp-like tones and then fleshing it out with more saccharine, neon-hued synths, stopping a snare rush short of Ministry of Sound at peak time. "Træns 10" is a bit more progressive, taking a full two minutes for the kick drum to settle in, and its colorful synths flow like massive schools of tropical fish in a tank. Equally indebted to Sasha and Moroder, Træns is a refreshing flashback to the less clearly defined early days of trance, avoiding the more histrionic tendencies of the genre that made it unbearable by the time it reached its commercial peak.