Bogota believer Manuel Cortes conjures a specifically spare schematic of autobiographical street house. Jams emerge from visions and lived insights into lean rhythm assemblages bouncing through zones of bass, acid, ballroom, warrior funk, tripped-hop: Lunate. Like the narcotic medication his alias echoes, Far Shores shivers with a blurry pulse through wavering doses of nocturnal lament. "The Liminal," "Cold City," "Molt" – identities unravel in the numbing metropolis, chiming keys flashing like digital clocks in glass mansions. His vacancies are deep; "Pawn Shop Romance" sparkles on a cheap streetcorner runway groove but is about "people who make choices where they sell out true happiness for comfort and wealth." Across 8 tracks Lunate leaves a loose-limbed trail of late nite truths and dancefloor introspections, molting into new percussion-and-sample symbioses. Recorded in Turkey, Colombia, and beyond across the last year, and mastered by Alter Echo. Edition of 100.