There is something both watery and mechanical about Budapest producer Kin Teal’s Ecosystem. It’s aptly named, with clicks and flows that work together symbiotically. Like something is unfolding within, it feels enclosed, just like a code box whose key is just out of grasp. It almost spills over, but not quite, reminiscent of concentric circles after the toss of a pebble or twisted strings of a cat’s cradle woven by invisible hands, an out-of-place knot here and there that doesn’t distract but adds to the grace of construction. There’s a reason “Elastiwater” is called “Elastiwater”: it’s aquarium-esque, its strands swimming right there beside you, only behind a glass wall. “Capsule” lives up to its name, too, with jittering echoes like something swallowed and expanding inside. Listening is not to enter but to be enfolded, its trudge—and its trudges toward some unknown center of a spiral—gentle and commanding. Best to zone through it, let it tick, and tock around you.