I was almost certain for a minute that Michael Caine's three-CD set of chill music was some sort of hallucination brought on by my recent infatuation with the man and some neurological damage from all the raves I used to go to. But apparently it's a real thing. While I have zero interest in actually listening to any of Cained—chill music ranks only slightly above Windham Hill in terms of bearability—I love that the guy is 74 years old yet capable of putting together compilations of rave-related tunes from his "vast collection." He's been so far beyond cool for so long that he is basically the Mayor of the Next Level, with a summer home on Bonkers Island paid for with Jaws: The Revenge money. Once again: advantage Caine.