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Symbiotical Records presents “Far Away” — a five-track release from French producer Dust Yard, offering a measured and introspective take on deep minimalism. The title track “Far Away” begins the journey with a meditative framework: soft pads, pulsating low-end, and a harmonic drift that feels suspended in time. It evolves at its own pace, drawing the listener into its orbit with quiet certainty and gravitational stillness. “Higher” follows with a warm, fluid groove. The rhythm is steady and subtly accented, allowing analog textures and micro-elements to breathe in unison. There’s spaciousness in the mix, a natural clarity that lets emotional undertones rise organically. Ki.Mi. offers a refined reinterpretation of “Higher”, bringing architectural precision to its warm undercurrent. The remix expands the original’s depth, layering morphing tones and nuanced shifts in momentum. It’s an immersive reconstruction — composed, restrained, quietly dynamic. “Sunrise” brings a change in mood: brighter, more melodic, yet still grounded. The phrasing appears with care, as if tracing the edge of something just beginning. It’s music for transitional hours, not fully awake, not entirely asleep. Closing the EP is Tm Shuffle’s version of “Sunrise”, leaning into dubby resonance and echoic space. Here, elements blur and dissolve, reframing the original into something more expansive. A final exhale that hovers in the air. Dust Yard delivers a focused, emotionally weighted record — subtle in structure, deliberate in motion, and rich in atmosphere. These are pieces that open slowly, revealing their presence in silence as much as in sound. Available now on all platforms for streaming and download. @dustyard @symbiotical-records

Taken aback by what had happened, Cat dragged himself toward the local junk dealers — the kind who bought anything without asking questions. The chances of finding the smart bracelet in piles and piles of used scrap were slim, but it was worth a shot while the trails were still fresh. He took a turn into an alley, came up to the gate, and rang the bell. A small eye-slot opened with a creak, followed by a gravelly voice: — Keep moving. We’re not expecting anyone. — Easy there, friend. I’m an intergalactic investigator on a high-priority case. — Information isn’t free. — Let me in and we’ll talk shop. The bluff worked. The old man grinned and shut the door behind him. Inside, as Cat scanned the shelves suffocated with dust, he leaned in: “My partner is already sweeping the perimeter. You can either tell me what you know or enjoy a formal interrogation downtown.” A brief exchange revealed a list of local pickpockets, with names and addresses. The info came at a cost: one crisp hundred. Ahead lay a sleepless night and a long walk through the stink of the backstreets.

There’s a quiet confidence to Apolinic’s “Sense Of” – the kind that doesn’t raise its voice, yet draws you closer with every bar. Built on a steady pulse and subtle tension, it unfolds with intention: clean percussion, glowing textures, and just enough modulation to keep the air slightly electric. Time feels gently stretched – suspended between thought and instinct. This is minimalism with restraint, balance, and a quiet sense of motion beneath the surface. A fitting start for Saraw’s debut vinyl – refined, focused, and unmistakably human. @sarawrecords

A sharp slice of minimal with something off-kilter — Scatter Z walks a fine line between hypnotic groove and quiet paranoia. Tension hums beneath the surface. Out now on Saraw, from Root – Uncharted Territories. @sarawrecords @root-cesar

The whole place was bursting with energy. Once-shy kids swarmed the rides, and fans of Asian cuisine kept seizing the food stalls. It seemed like there wasn’t a single hungry or unhappy soul left in the area. Even an old one-legged hurdy-gurdy player was enjoying unprecedented popularity. — This game taught me how to shoot. Plasma blaster range, what a nostalgia! — I’m more into barrel pickles and sausages with lager. Stuffed to the brim, Cat made a wild attempt at Celtic dancing, moving so clumsy that he kept bumping into everyone in sight. The booze and the atmosphere of reckless joy were getting the better of him. — You’re seriously loaded, Fluffball. Try not to fall over. — Let’s fire up a portal flash just for fun! I just need to activate it and… oh no! I think I lost it. — Lost what? — My smart bracelet… — I’m constantly amazed by how hopeless my partner is! With a frustrated wave of a hand, Spacelunch stormed off. His silhouette vanished into the crowd just as quietly as the key accessory, that custom-made piece of tech, had gone missing. The professor was baffled by this unpleasant turn of events, a fresh wave of unease settling over him.