The twitchy, angry, white James Brown of New York’s nihilistic No Wave scene of the early ’80s, James Chance dipped equally into funk, punk, jazz and disco. He pushed more uncomfortable buttons than anybody of his time, squonking horribly into his sax and demanding his audiences dance, or at least react. His beats on this collection of four vintage albums and various ephemera slip from nervy to surprisingly danceable and fun, with oblique lyrical rants on race and sex (“ ‘He’s almost black’/‘That nigger’s white,’ ” bicker two girls on “Buy the Contortions”). Nobody in the ’80s other than Public Enemy confronted race so boldly. But what becomes a legend most is his jarring, cold, minimalist funk — mutated by pure punk-ass attitude — that has spawned edgy New York dance-rockers from Jon Spencer to the Rapture, the Liars and Radio 4.