'Wick' jayfromwestt Bm 125BPM.wav

Shamanic drums, acid synths, cosmic whales—lose yourself in 4K.
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Nothing but a Visualizer e1
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Follow on SoundCloud for more tracks : https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
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Keep in touch with latest releases:
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https://grasspatchbum.com/
Creative Music Video : https://youtu.be/nVwla5nZgXE
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Dawn of the Pulse
Silence was a rumor on the basalt plateau where the Obsidian Jaguar tribe gathered each equinox, but tonight the air itself seemed to breathe—slow, anticipatory, alive. A charcoal sky shimmered with violet fractures, as though some hidden hand had cracked open the heavens to leak aurora-colored veins across the stars. At the center of the gathering, Shaman Kael traced a sigil in silver ash: two mirrored spirals that met like clasped talons. His voice—low, gravel-thick—summoned the tribe’s seven guardians, each wearing a feathered cloak dusted with phosphorescent spores.

With a single strike of Kael’s staff, the earth boomed once, and bass-deep vibrations threaded through every ribcage. Torches hissed and flared blue. The tribe inhaled the midnight nectar—mushroom-steeped, star-sweet—and their pupils ate the torchlight whole. Reality softened, tilting just enough to reveal what lay beneath its skin.

Let the Spiral open, Kael thought, and a lattice of jade filaments blinked into existence, mapping a celestial staircase above them. Somewhere beyond the next heartbeat, the Dreaming Spiral awakened.

Passage through the Jade Lattice
The jade bridge arched overhead, each translucent step humming with stories of travelers long vanished. The guardians led the procession, treading weightless across emerald glass. Every footfall birthed a ripple of geometric flowers that blossomed, dissolved, and re-blossomed in impossible pattern loops. Vapor-stitched sky-whales circled the bridge, their forms sonic yet silent, mouths whispering vowels that no human tongue could shape.

Kael’s mind unfurled—first into memory, then into myth, then into an electric weave of both. He saw a vision of the plateau inverted, hanging above an ocean of stars. In that reflection, the tribe marched upside-down, their cloaks dragging luminous wakes across the cosmic surf. Hold steady, the shaman cautioned himself. The Spiral opens wider for those who forget gravity.

At the bridge’s midpoint, an obsidian altar rose from nothing, as if memory itself had sculpted it from the dark between beats. Onyx runes glowed at its base: Nothing but a Visualizer—a phrase older than stone, older than sound.
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Continues on the website: https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/06/26/nothing-but-a-visualizer-e1/

Nothing but a Visualizer e1

rEsidual

Stevie live stream part 1

https://soundcloud.com/user-434699157?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing and me are glitchy dot phong !!!

Glitchy dot Phong - Welcome To Mainframe

"Ascension" is an original, instrumental score capturing the breathtaking awe of riding the Orbit Elevator in Stellar Blade. This piece is the soundtrack for that moment of quiet grandeur - looking out the window as you leave the planet behind and rise into the stars.

Ascension

RAPTOR ft CELLOPHANE  pop orchestral  experimental whit hardcore bass drums…SHALL WE WALK TOGETHER ?

WALK  ALONE

Six months. Six damned months in which I carried every little lie I told myself with a broad smile. "I feel so good!" I'd say, "No more smoking! What a liberation! I'm a new person!" And everyone nodded. My friends, my colleagues, even the guy from the bakery. They nodded and cheered me on like you'd cheer for a marathon runner who looked like he was about to throw up.

I'm lying. I don't feel good at all. I feel like a bucket of misery into which someone secretly stuffed a pile of wet newspapers. I'm not liberated, I've gone to jail. For six months now, I've been in nicotine quarantine, and my clothes no longer smell like an ashtray, but like... nothing. I'm not sleeping any better; I dream about cigarettes. Over and over again. About that first hit in the morning, that little nicotine rocket that catapults you into happiness. About the glowing end that looks like a small, timid light at the end of the tunnel.

I've gained over nine pounds. Nine pounds! In just six months! My belly now hangs over my belt like a sad pancake. My pants are tighter than the zipper on an overstuffed suitcase. I look like the Michelin Man who's had the air sucked out of him. And the dating experience? I wonder what my last date thought when I plopped down on the sofa like it were a mattress. She probably thought, "Oh, a new mattress trend."

At first, I thought I was a hero. I was lecturing smokers. I raised my fingers and said, "I can promise you, addiction is a killer." And then, secretly, I turned around and imagined myself opening a pack, lighting a cigarette, feeling the fire, taking a deep breath, and my brain exploding with joy. Like an orgasm, only better because it never ends.

And now I'm sitting here in a smoker’s bar. My buddy smokes. He smokes two packs a day. And I hate him for it. I hate him because he can do what I can't. I hate him because he feels the happiness I long for. I just told him to stop before it's too late. He just laughed and said, "Man, I'm the one having fun here, you're the one destroying yourself." And he's right. I'm a hermit, a sad, lonely recluse who made his own rules and now tortures himself. I've backed myself into a corner from which there's no escape. And the thought that I have to give up, that I could reach out and ask for a cigarette, is so tempting. Just a little puff. A little orgasm. Just a little bit of happiness.


Six months and not a single cigarette, you know
They said it would be easy, a hero's show
My clothes don't stink of ashtrays anymore
I sleep a little better, or so I swore
I talk to everyone about my brand new life
But deep inside, I'm cuttin' with a mental knife

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin
Let me take you in, let me start again
One little puff, a glorious high
Oh, nicotine, my sweet goodbye

I told myself I'm free from all that poison's hold
A new beginning, a story to be told
But nine pounds heavier, my belt won't close
All the single ladies now turn up their nose
I used to hate the smell, but now I miss it, man
The little white stick that holds my world in its hand

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin
Let me take you in, let me start again
One little puff, a glorious high
Oh, nicotine, my sweet goodbye

They say I'm strong, a man of pure resolve’
They praise my strength while my own life dissolves
But what's the point of smelling fresh and clean
If you can't find a partner, so fat and mean?
I see my friends all puffing, laughing at my face
I feel like a loser lost in time and space

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin 
Let me take you in, it's a hello again 
One little puff, a glorious high 
It's not a goodbye, just a sweet hello. Again.

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Arrangement and vocals: Volker Redder, Udio, GarageBand
Loops and samples: Volker Redder, GarageBand
Editing and sound design: Volker Redder, Ozone 11, Sound Studio, GarageBand
Lyrics: Volker Redder, translated with the help of Google Translate
Cover design: Volker Redder, Photoshop, DALL-E 3

My Sweet Sin

2. Fat Joe's Disease

G.F.M. Rider Feat. Trill Will

What a boring collab - Rhino Jooos and Marcin Man

Dig the tunes? Check out trippy music videos: https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum

Website or Instagram for booking.

Need change - going harder.

Techno, Trance, Psytech, Psytrance, and other liquid psychedelic music is where I'm the happiest but I do love a lot of Latin, Tribal, Trip Hop, Lofi, Chillhop so occasionally I'll release something off-beat.

------ Past-Tense Shenanigans ------

Born in the dust-filled vibes of a ‘90s apartment, Grass Patch Bum started spinning records back when vinyl was king and internet cafes were revolutionary. Armed with a crate of vinyl, Grass Patch Bum dived headfirst into underground raves and sweaty house parties, learning the art of blending beats on turntables and (eventually) the "futuristic" CDJs. But the journey didn't stop there.

After taking a hiatus to dive into the world of FL Studio and dissect the mechanics of production, Grass Patch Bum came back stronger, with a repertoire of original sounds and the technical chops to match. Fast forward, and they've turned dancefloors upside down from Thailand to Vietnam, Bali to the heart of Europe. Now, powered by Ableton Live and a creative arsenal that refuses to stay in one genre, Grass Patch Bum weaves sonic journeys that blend groove, grit, and just a sprinkle of nostalgia for the good ol' days.

Catch him live for a taste of nostalgia, modern beats, Latin grooves, electronic melodies, and a wide range of liquid sounds. Whether it's a tropical beach in Thailand or an underground club in Berlin, Grass Patch Bum brings thems booty movements like no other.