Katsura @ Yzeech : 19.02.22

KATSURA's closing DJ set recorded live at BLANK club during Påraleł showcase on 17.09.22

@katsuraa

KATSURA / 003

@mi_num
Taking a shift towards psy trance sound with a mix by minum for our second episode of the podcast series.
 minum is a producer, DJ, and co-founder of the Finnish event/mix series and label, Aura Trance Alliance. His productions have been released on NO BORDERS, Magdalena's Apathy, Elysium, and Alliance Club, among others. minum has lately been inspired by the psychedelic forest sounds of the Nordics. Influences of that aesthetic can be heard in his latest productions.
 In this mix he takes you through the furthest suburbs of the city, onto an overgrown path that leads to a dense forest, teeming with small glowing creatures and some benevolent but frightening characters dancing around the bonfire.

TRACK LIST:

Logic Bomb - Kilobyte Bandit
Scano & Wendy - Bagerens Dårlige Øje
Disto - Geopolitics
ITEM 9 - The Catburglar
Lund & Rønde - The Truth Tortoise
Krussedull - Whiskeyjack
Krapul - Odyssey in Jungle
minum - Silverfisken
minum - unreleased track
Ovnivirus & ZDLCK - Rolling in the Deep
Ordo Ab Chao - Regenerate

STATIC.02 - minum

Paul Mike - Nocturne for Anima Nox

00 Quellsy & Tvolt - Меркурий(Unreleased)
01 Quellsy - Nasha Planeta(Tba)
02 Pylon & Custom Code - Albatros(Unreleased)
03 Quellsy - Reduction(TBA)
04 Quellsy - Belgorod(ExoPhono Recs.)
05 Quellsy - Satta(TBA)
06 Quellsy - Dreammy Box(Kos.Mos.Music)
07 Vedanta & Quellsy - Recalibration(TBA)
08 Vedanta - Bogurodzica(GIIDUP Music)
09 Quellsy - Yggdrasil(Kos.Mos.Music)
10 Quellsy - Synchronization(TBA)
11 Quellsy - Cryogenic Capsule(Remastered)(TBA)
12 Quellsy - Techno Prime Tone(TBA)
13 Pylon & Yabol - Nieloty(Unreleased)
14 Redirect - Instant Cutoff (Yabol Remix) (Perkussiv Music)
15 Yabol, Quellsy &Tvolt - Skynet(Perkussiv Music)
16 Vedanta - Magic Potion (Filter Movement)
17 Yabol - Appendicitis (Perkussiv Music)
18 Yabol & Quellsy - Trypthophan(Perkussiv Music) 
19 Yabol - Fight or Flight (Perkussiv Music)
20 Quellsy - Stay Home(Perkussiv Music)
21 Quellsy - Techno Track(TBA)
22 Quellsy - Cryogenic Capsule(VIP) (TBA)
23 Anode - Havonavega (Original Mix)(Perkussiv Music)
24 Inhumane & Quellsy - Unique_pattern (NTBR)
25 The Sect - Unseen (Pyro Remix) (Perkussiv Music)
26 Quellsy - Reduction(VIP)(TBA)
27 Exiva - Surface (Pyro Remix) (Synchronize) 
28 Amex & Rufftex - Slowmotion(Quellsy remix)(NTBR)
29 Quellsy - CPP567(Unreleased)
30 Gliesse - Mini Dots(Unreleased)


Ilya Quellsy — The Prisoner of Sonic Infinity
In a world where reality trembles under the weight of catastrophe and cities have become the charred skeletons of the past, there are those who do not seek salvation in the ruins. They create their own worlds—worlds of sound, rhythm, and an endless flow of frequencies.  
One of these creators was Quellsy.  
The One Who Dissolved into Sound  
Once, before the Great Collapse, Ilya was just a man. He lived among others, felt the warmth of the sun, and heard the voices of those close to him. But with each passing year, his world grew smaller. More and more often, he was found in his room, surrounded by synthesizers and the cold glow of screens. He listened. Analyzed. Built.  
Music became his air, his flesh, his blood.
When the sky ignited and the cities turned to ash, he did not run outside. He did not seek shelter. He remained in his cocoon of sound.
Closing the doors, silencing reality, he let himself disappear.  
They say that in the moment of destruction, he was so deeply immersed in his music that something changed. Maybe the world outside became incompatible with him. Maybe he ceased to be human in the conventional sense.  
Now, he is not just a music creator—he is its prisoner, its vessel, its living extension.
No one has seen his true form, but everyone has heard the rhythms he transmits into the dead world’s airwaves. They penetrate minds, make bodies move, and consciousness dissolve in the chaos of techno-psy drum & bass.  

Quellsy combines mathematical precision with the shamanic magic of frequencies**. He knows every harmonic, every wave, every rhythm that can make the blood freeze or ignite a storm within.  
Some say he is no longer human but a stream of data lost in the ether. You cannot see him, but you can hear him anywhere in the wastelands—if you tune into old receivers or accidentally catch his signal at the edge of reality.  
His music awakens. Some hear it and go mad. Others find meaning in a meaningless world. And a few… a few set out to find him.  
Quellsy waits.
Deep within his labyrinth of sound, among thousands of tracks and an infinite rhythm, he is creating something greater than music.  
Perhaps he is searching for the pure frequency that will tear this dying world apart and create a new one.  
Or perhaps he himself has long since become part of an endless sonic canvas—one that will soon wash over this world with a final, perfect wave.

@quellsy
@yabol
@vedantadnb
@pylon_mechaplex
@inhumane
@anodegz
@ox872019
@gliesse
@pyro_1432225780164
STAY TUNED, FRIENDS!

Quellsy | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #08

The Orpheus Big Karmic Trip  

On one hand, it's Orpheus' descent into the underworld of Hades—a realm filled with chitinous crunches, crystalline screeches, divine unsettling choirs, whispers and murmurs, fragments of memory from lost souls.  
On the other, it's a journey into the afterlife of cold cosmic voids, boundless karmic spaces where the only landmarks are abandoned stations, alien tribes, swarms of cannibals, and empty mining tunnels on industrial asteroids.  

A double Bardo.  
I love telling stories through my mixes. It's like a soundtrack to a non-existent film, where the same hero, in different realities, embarks on a desperate journey in hopes of rebirth and metamorphosis.  

Funny how even the track titles align with the theme—a whimsical coincidence that isn’t a coincidence at all.



Doozer aka Zahadoom | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #09

Pulsating Void — The One Who Dances with the Abyss
In a city trembling on the edge of the swamps and reality, where houses stand on rotting stilts and streets vanish into the mist, lives Pulsating Void—a shaman of rhythm, an explorer of shadows, a guide into the very heart of the Grey Zone.  
Here, where the borders of the world are blurred, he finds sounds no one should hear.  

The Voice of the Swamp
Since childhood, he felt the pulse of this land—slow, deep, endless. The swamp water carried the whispers of ancient spirits, and the abandoned stations vibrated with the echoes of lost signals.  
While others feared the darkness and the damp, he listened to it.  
He learned from the old shamans, those who still remembered how to speak with the local spirits through the rhythm of drums and the wail of pipes. But Pulsating Void went further—he fused shamanism with machines, replaced the bones of rituals with mechanisms, turned magic into frequency.  
His music is not just sound. It is a dialogue with the abyss.  

Explorer of the Grey Zone 
Beyond the city stretches the Grey Zone—a place where meaning dissolves, and space shifts. No one ventures there except the desperate and the cursed.  
But Pulsating Void goes there every night. 
He collects sounds that do not belong to this world—the electric moans of abandoned generators, the flickers of unheard frequencies, the echoes of voices trapped between realities. He returns with them, weaving them into his tracks, transforming them into rituals.  
Those who listen to his sets don’t just dance. They feel the tremor beneath their feet, the breath of unseen forces, the heartbeat of something vast and ancient beneath the water’s surface.

The One Who Leads Through Darkness
They say his tracks contain encoded pathways through the Twilight Swamps. 
They say he knows how to venture deep into the Grey Zone and return without losing his sanity.  
They say his sets can open the eyes of those ready to see the true face of this world. 

Some claim that Pulsating Void never fully returned from the Grey Zone—that a part of him remains there, within the rhythm, the hum, the eternal dance with the abyss.  
And when you hear his music, when the frequencies begin to vibrate inside you, you are not just listening—you are stepping closer to the threshold.  
And the only question is: do you dare to cross it? 

@1ecpsbdijyva

Pulsating Void | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #11

Tete — The Heart of the Machine
They say that at the dawn of the fall, while the last lights of the old world were still flickering, one man survived in a subterranean capsule — a man more connected to rhythm than to breath. His name was Tete.

His journey began long before the catastrophe, in an age when sound was an art, not a weapon. Back then, he was a master of mixing, an architect of vibration, and a wanderer across genres now forgotten by most. But even as the world crumbled, Tete remained loyal to the sound. He didn’t just survive — he adapted music to the new laws of a broken world.

Now he roams between stations and shelters, carrying techno as knowledge and sound as salvation. His many years as a musician and sound engineer allow him to extract rhythm from shattered panels and broken machines. His sets are precise sonic surgery, where each transition seems to awaken the sleeping.

Tete doesn’t speak much. His voice is the pulse of low frequencies, the shimmer of synths, the breath of old drum machines. Some call him The Heart of the Machine, others — The Last Tuner, but everyone knows: if you hear his set in the wastelands, then somewhere nearby, life still lingers.

Tete | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #12

MNQA — The One Who Listens to Ashes
He was born in the final year before the Collapse — in a world where cities rotted from within, and music still tried to make a difference. As the system crumbled, he stood on stage — the shriek of guitar fusing with the roar of the crowd, and no one knew it was a farewell chord.

After the Fall, MNQA vanished. Legends said he survived the fire but burned his past within it. Years later, he was found among the ruins of a concert complex, collecting old gear, carving chains from scrap metal, tuning disfigured speakers as if building a shrine for a new sonic religion.

Now he plays in dead zones — places devoid of life, inhabited only by shadows. His set is a pulse beneath the ash, a hypnotic rhythm forged from pain. There is no hope in his sound, only movement — slow, inevitable, like the collapse of empty skies.

MNQA does not speak. He wires broken machines, connects cables to the remains of forgotten devices, and releases sound. He does not seek light — he works with what’s left in the dark. His music does not heal. It summons what was buried beneath the skin. Those who’ve heard him sometimes never return. Others come back... changed.

He is an archive of pain, translated into rhythm. His guitar has become a conduit. His body — a vessel for residual energy of a ruined world. Where MNQA appears, the air grows heavier, and even the walls begin to listen.

He doesn’t resurrect the past. He melts it into new metal.

MNQA | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #13

His real name has long been forgotten — erased from archives, burned in old clubs, drowned in the wastewater of underground dancefloors. All that remains is an echo: stilstilstilstilstil. Like a jammed loop in a broken drum machine.

He hails from one of the last cities where the underground didn’t just live — it breathed smog, pulsed with current, and pounded at 170 BPM. There was no day there — only neon streaks, rusted corridors, and a rhythm that gripped even your dreams. He grew up among vibrations, nights without windows or walls, beneath the hiss of ventilation and the screech of aging generators.

In his youth, stilstilstilstilstil went deeper — to the levels where music no longer entertained, but poured madness and the will to survive straight into the bloodstream. His sound became a fusion of relentless rhythm and psychedelic pressure — the kind that shatters the walls of consciousness.

He has no interest in stages. He plays in places the living no longer visit — mines, basements, abandoned factories, where workers have long since vanished, leaving only the echo of faded years. His set is no performance — it’s an invasion. When he turns on the sound, the space begins to moan, melt, and breathe with him.

They say he hears the city — not like others do. He communes with concrete slabs, rusted pipes, and charred columns. stilstilstilstilstil isn’t an artist. He’s a protocol — the ignition sequence for machines inside a human shell. A movement through debris, toward the core of a black mechanical heart.

@stilstilstilstilstil
@psai-518289486

стилстилстилстилстил | Nocturnal sounds of Holmgard | #14

When the great cities dissolved into digital dust and their streets grew over with moss and wires, he emerged from the remnants of the Northern Hive — now known only as Cluster Zone P-21. His name hums across frequencies like static in a dying signal: Nicko Shuo.

Born in what was once a cold metropolis, he began as a sonic explorer. His path wove through genre-chaos, like a wanderer crossing radioactive wastelands. He listened to echoes of the past — experimenting with noise, beats, digital relics. But the pull came from deeper, darker places — Raw, Hypnotic, Sci-fi techno: as precise as an ancient protocol and as dry as the air in forgotten underground vaults.

Shuo collected rhythms like artifacts. Catalogs from vanished civilizations — SIGNAL, Dosis, TMM, [R]3volution, DarkForest... He wasn’t just releasing music — he was sending signals into the void, leaving traces on vinyl and across fragmented data streams, pulsing through club-crypts and broadcasting mixes for scattered techno enclaves around the world.

Every performance is a ritual of hypnosis. Not music, but a connection algorithm. His BPM is the frequency of machine memory recovery. He doesn’t play — he activates. He dives into pulsating structures and breathes life into them. In a world where bodies no longer dance and only the ghosts of the Net remain, Nicko Shuo becomes the mediator between iron and shadow.

He is the archivist of a forgotten future. A sound that resonates through the skin of a broken world.

Тracklist:
Torsion - Misgivings
Toxido Mask - Void
Biorc - Dimensional
Biorc - No Evasion 
Biorc - Penumbra 
Drucal - Bohemio
Drucal - Viernes Santo
Divide & Oisel - AD5
Divide & Oisel - AD6 
Divide & Oisel - AD3
BRÄLLE + Atisbo - Psychosomatic
Pyramidal Decode - Destino
Julieta Kopp - Rigel 
Nicko Shuo - Singularium (Russ Remix)
Lakej - Blocked
Lakej - Requisition
Michel Lauriola - Body, Mind and Soul
Michel Lauriola - Fierce Drill
PWCCA -  Conducta 
PWCCA - Simbolo
PWCCA - Expresión
PWCCA - Back to Reality
Nicko Shuo - Sarkama
Nicko Shuo - Above Target
Møntero - Slow Mechanism
Avox25 - SUBX010
Avox25 - SUBX006
Oscar Mulero - Outside the Time Zone 
Oscar Mulero - Further Away
Oscar Mulero - Cosmic Glasses
Vegim - Hermetically sealed 
NECTAR EXPERIENCE - Ferroatlantica



@nickoshuo
@mehanizam7425
@biorc
@drucal1
@pyramidal-track
@julietakopp
@lakej
@michellauriola
@oscarmulero
@Vegim