Seattle’s Dave Pezzner may still seem like a new kid on the block, but if you’ve been in the game long enough odds are you’ve heard of his past work as one half of Classic Records signed jaunty house smiths Jacob London. Alongside Bob Hansen, Pezzner brought us discerning dance floor bangers with titles such as “Regular Absorbency” and “Pinecones Are Complicated” starting in 1998. As that project began to wind down, Pezzner relaunched himself as a solo artist with a load of experimentally edged though thoroughly floor-friendly house cuts for Freerange Records and Om. He’s also become quite in demand for remixes, having worked over tracks by Lusine, Milton Jackson, Terry Lee Brown Jr., Mark Farina and Chris Lattner. On The Tracks Are Alive EP, the first taken from his debut album of the same name, Pezzner gets sit back and be remixed by Rozzo, Ryo Murakami, and Jay Shepheard.

Pezzner’s original is a testament to his love of all things just a smidge left of center, a straight up house track that sets itself apart with an inspired sonic palette. Tubby acoustic drums and brusque, streamlined horn stabs set the track on a direct path that goes a bit wobbly as if the elements were warping in the summer sun. It’s somewhat rare for house tracks this weird and singularly fashioned to stomp this hard. André Schmid, better known as Rozzo and as the core member of Mountain People, seems in his element as he takes on the title track. Stripped back to terse, shuffling hi-hats and a bare bass line, the remix pops out of Schmid’s mold with his trademarked minor chord progression fastened on and pointing the way. He also dapples the subtle, snaking groove in vocal snippets dipped in reverb to give the track a more human touch. While not as distinctive or timeless as some of his own productions, the remix holds its own as an early morning mover that’s perfect for DJs looking to pace themselves.

Ryo Murakami takes the track to more stereotypical deep house territory but with enough noteworthy details to keep it feeling fresh and lovely. Opening on spacious organ chords, its reverberating drums gives off a dusty, almost vintage feel that grows stronger as it unfolds and reveals open hats and punchy claps. But what truly sets his remix apart are the sparingly used vocal drops (“Us!” they cry), languid bass guitar lines and hints of guitar noodles that echo the hands-on feel imparted by Pezzner’s original. If listeners aren’t dancing to this there’s a good chance they’ll end up reclining to drink it all in. UK born, Berlin resident Jay Shepheard brings proceedings to a close by remixing Pezzner’s “Find Me.” With a funk inspired guitar lick acting as its rudder, the track straddles the line between funkier and arguably more commercial deep house in a precarious way. Its studded bass line and filtered female vocals provide just enough momentum to keep its slender frame in motion without breaking a sweat. All in all, a quite solid package.

Correction: The review incorrectly noted that Jay Sheapherd remixed the EP’s title track instead of “Find Me.” The text has been edited to reflect this change.

[Mountain People]

In the span of seven releases, André Schmid and contributors Serafin and Roman Bruderer have charted a wide-ranging course for the Zurich-based Mountain People label. But whether the records paid homage to seminal house tunes (“Mountain001″) or helped spark the return of tribalized minimal house (“Mountain005″), their impeccable construction was conspicuously identifiable as a Mountain People production. Schmid (better known as Rozzo or Peter Dildo) imparts a certain snappiness, a sexy gait such that even the label’s lowest points (the threadbare “Mountain006″) are far more palatable than the majority of house singles I receive. While the eighth Mountain People 12″ is equally surefooted, the record’s droning arrangements are more aligned with those of Schmid’s other guises than its predecessors. The results are less compelling than one might imagine.

The last few years have found Schmid draping loose and flowing pads around intricate percussion patterns on tracks like “Muramasa” and “Azzurro” as Rozzo and “Womanizer” as Peter Dildo. It’s a good formula for showcasing his adroit drum programming and knack for choosing demure tone palettes. Yet when applied to “Mountain008,” his taut but unflashy percussion loses some of its immediacy, feeling stuck in stasis. Cloaked in billowing organ chords and accented with shakers and cracks of thunder, “008.1″ feels surprisingly pensive rather than moving. “008.2″ is likewise swathed in sustained pads, leaving the syncopations of a gulping bass line to pull the humid track across eight minutes. Even a vintage sample announcing the death of “Jack, one of the true pioneer of house music,” does little to break the dour inertia. What’s worse, vinyl buyers aren’t privy to the far more persuasive “008.3,” a digital exclusive. DJs will have to pack Serato equipment to air the oily, 303 bass-led track whose churning undercurrents evoke the sonic details of Shackleton. Even if “Mountain008″ finds its way into warm up and cool down DJ sets, Schmid’s experiment with cross-bred methods has yielded one of the least distinctive Mountain People records to date.

[Tsuba Records]

Not yet a year since the release of the first “Tsuba Samurai EP”, the London house label offers up a sequel, “Return of the Samurai.” Though this two-part release brings a keeper to the bin, three remaining tracks are compilation fodder — representative, likable, but altogether unmemorable. Despite its too-restrained style, “Return of the Samurai” is altogether a practice in good taste. Initially I pulled this pick from the pile for its inclusion of David Pher, previously known to me only for his “Harare,” a dynamic gem I first heard in Julietta’s Ibiza Voice podcast. The chants of children appear again here in “Sweet Little Sin,” but with far less levitation than before. An emerging marimba melody makes an attempt at evil, but the edges are too soft, more decorous than dangerous. Nima Gorji can be complimented for the shuffle-inducing, sashaying percussion in “Japanese Sword,” but the goofish warrior vocals are a bit too big for their britches. Phaser effects do little to expand the track, but the near-end, sneak-in melody almost saves an overall growthless track.

“Muramasa” presents the predictable set of round, percussive pings for which Rozzo is well-loved, complimented by sweeping ambient swells lending the track an unanticipated moodiness. The well-paced entrance of the beat lends “Muramasa” the groove it needs to uphold the spooky bells jutting into the mix. But like many of Peter Dildo’s other productions, this track descends as soon as it unfolds and we hardly get a chance to know him here. Tsuba saved the comp’s sleekest skill for the second slab. Two Armadillos’ “Jaz Falutin” starts in motion and stays there, deep and true throughout. Last year the U.K. pair peaked ears with “Nostalgia,” and here again they construct the sort of track that, at its height, has you picturing not only a dance floor full of closed-eyed groovers, but evokes an image of the very musical elements themselves dancing together in their own loopy way. Piano flourishes get down with feel-good pizzicato, bass melodies support the cowbell pops — the smooth rhythms and emotive punches all manage to dance without stepping on each other’s toes. Despite a lack of luster on the rest of the “Return,” this track got me moving, pronto.

[Mountain People]

Since launching the Mountain People label to house his homage to The Mole People’s incredible “Break Night,” André (Rozzo and Peter Dildo) Schmid’s tracks under the moniker have gradually dried out, as he’s become a near teetotaler for melody. Considering how lush the imprint started (and was continued by Serafin and Roman Bruderer), it’s quite a contrast when you have to strap on headphones just to hear the silhouette of tone gilding emaciated drum programming. His hotly anticipated latest, “Mountain006,” is the driest yet, bearing resemblance to the similarly subtle “Mountain005.2″ (with Serafin), but is surprisingly short on the killer grooves for which Schmid is known.

The singular riff that’s been wrung of its bouquet of tone with each new track is still the heart of Mountain People, and it thumps with a limp, exhausted tone in “Mountain006.1.” Flecked with snappy hi-hats atwitter, dull cowbell konks, and whispers crawling across stereo channels, the track seems a dusty ghost of its predecessors. “Mountain006.2″ has a bit more pulse in both in its swing and vigor, but a muted vibe hit and hiccuped stabs practically need the vocal, which labels the track as “house music,” to convince listeners of what’s wiggling in front of them. Schmid is no stranger to minimalism, but these tracks are barely there and need a great deal of layering to offer even a worthwhile accent. Creating DJ tools can be a risky trade, and Schmid is bold for cutting this close to the bone. Unfortunately, “Mountain 006″ shaves off too much sound and spirit to pull its weight in my crate.