The Tate's survey of contemporary pop comes shrouded in critical justification, full of dreadful coinages like "turntablism" and references to the "paradigm of the DJ". I doubt Paul Oakenfold considers himself a turntablist, let alone a paradigm, but it would be too much to expect the Tate to stage an otherwise funky show without smothering it in theory.
Remix attempts to identify a club-savvy, sampling trend among visual artists - a banal proposition if ever there was one, given that artists had been borrowing from each other for centuries before DJs came along. But thankfully the exhibits are more interesting than the exhibition's premise - even if it all seems like an excuse to show music videos and Julian Opie's portrait of Damon Albarn.
The show starts well with Andreas Gursky's stunning photographic panorama of a packed dancefloor, in which the clubbers look like tiny pixels in a digitised Jackson Pollock. Opposite is Dawn Mellor's kitschy oil of Britney Spears surrounded by fluffy husky puppies. The piece is entitled no, no, no, no, no - something that ought to have been said to Britney Spears long before now.
Fierce techno emanates from Rineke Dijkstra's enclosure, which contains a film of awkward adolescents swigging lager and shimmying self-consciously in a Liverpool club, their puppy fat wobbling. There is more wobble in Gillian Wearing's video of air-guitarists, one of whom appears stark naked, thrashing a broom handle in a way that makes it obvious why heavy metal bands prefer tight, spandex trousers.
Angela Bulloch's installation is a flashing disco floor, which pulses gently to itself as Chic's Good Times throbs in the background. I felt this piece was lacking something. A man in a flared white suit with a medallion, perhaps.
Julie Becker's interactive video, Suburban Legend, enables you to test the cryptic theory that Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon is intended to synchronise with the Wizard of Oz. Becker provides headphones to hear the album and a dial to scroll to the significant coincidences in the MGM film. But this is never going to convince anyone unless she supplies the wherewithal to get stoned as well.
· Until August 26. Details: 0151-702 7418.
