There are songs that move you, and then there are songs that float with you. “Mintaka“, the new collaboration between SØLYS and his other self moon:and:6, does both—like a satellite quietly charting the edges of your consciousness, never quite landing but always there, glowing. It’s the kind of track that doesn’t demand attention but somehow holds it like gravity.
There’s a slow, deliberate stillness at the start of “Mintaka“—just piano, patient and bare, like it’s waiting for something to bloom. But the magic is in the unfolding. Bit by bit, you begin to feel it shift. Synths stretch out like light spilling across water, drums flicker in and out like distant constellations. The track feels less like it’s building toward a climax and more like it’s spiraling outward—expanding gently, weightlessly, never settling in one place for long. It’s not ambient wallpaper, though. There’s tension in the harmonic drift, in the tonal ambiguity that keeps you leaning in, unsure of where you’ll land next.
SØLYS, aka Michael Chambers, isn’t just blending instruments here—he’s blending identities. Under moon:and:6, Chambers leaned into complex rhythms and textural electronic soundscapes; as SØLYS, his music has often sat closer to modern classical minimalism. On “Mintaka“, those two worlds bump shoulders and quietly fuse. You can hear the logic of IDM brushing against the softness of neoclassical restraint. It’s Aphex Twin meditating with Ólafur Arnalds. It’s fluid, but not aimless. The subtle delay trails and evolving drum patterns tether the whole thing just enough to keep it from floating off into deep space.
And maybe that’s why it feels so comforting—”Mintaka” lives in the in-between. It captures that strange clarity of a late night where your thoughts are gentle but endless, where the silence doesn’t scare you anymore. That exact place where introspection turns into stillness, and loneliness into peace.
About the artist:
Behind all of this is Michael Chambers, a composer who thinks in shapes and shades rather than notes. With a sound rooted in the quiet drama of Reinbert de Leeuw and the atmospheric pull of Brian Eno, Chambers makes music that breathes—slowly, deeply, and deliberately. On his latest EP, “Orion’s Belt“, he leans fully into that ethos, composing pieces that feel like star maps—beautiful, complex, and just out of reach. If “Mintaka” is any indication, he’s found a way to let both sides of himself speak at once. And the result is something that doesn’t just sound like space—it sounds like being in it.
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