Gossamer assembles disjointed electronic dance tracks filled with multi-genre allusions. Take the West African kora and thumb piano tones twisting through “Griot,” the pounding Latin jazz chords interrupting “Vamenos,” or the vaguely Gregorian incantations chanting around “Name Tapes” from previous releases for instance. The new 12” on local Jass Records expands the stylistic pool.

“Chaino” transplants the suave energy of Harry Belafonte into schizoid jerks and nods. Dented steel drums, their sonic spectrum deadened, carry the melodic outline with stops and starts. The bass provides a syncopated riff that oscillates in and out of prominence, but won’t let go of your hips. The drum programming grabs at a wide clashing of timbres, like wooden-floor stomp, clipping snare, and (what sounds like) an irregularly smashed metal pail, building to four-on-the-floor disco boogies and dropping out to start again.

Counted off by an actual clock, “Ab-Mass” is a Saharan lullaby. Gossamer builds a much more subtly intricate beat, rising with cricket-like shakers and ringing metallic bowls. The thumb piano is back, adding atmosphere and a welcome acoustic foil to the sharp snare. Is that an overblown flute or just resonant feedback? Who’s that mumbling below the surface? The following remix speeds it up with more aggressive electronic textures that cut into the clock and feedback pulse from the original. There’s a faster pace, but a slower and more nuanced build to the frantic peak.

These insistent body-movers splice quick flashes of acoustic and electronic immediately together, as if Gossamer is turning the dial back and forth on a global style radio. We get to revel in the static, the overlap as he picks up ephemera from each station.