Album Music Videos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_DB6rTW1nEo&list=PLymNA9M985DgVuEZkgQMVel6v54ZiHZ_E
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Drown distraction in rain‑lit lofi beats—perfect for late‑night study & deep focus.
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Please follow - https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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Please follow - https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
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Aya curled her fingers around a chipped porcelain mug, the steam fogging her glasses as rain braided silver ribbons down the café window. Old Kumo City’s crooked lanes vanished into mist, leaving only the glow of rain-lamps—teardrop bulbs strung on sagging wires that shone brighter the wetter they became. Their honey-orange halos pooled in every puddle, turning the street into a trembling galaxy of tiny suns.

She opened her sketchbook to a fresh page. The blank paper shimmered under the lamp’s reflection, and for a heartbeat Aya thought she saw a pulse behind the page —as if it were breathing. She touched her pencil point to the center and drew the faint outline of a gateway: two weather-blackened pillars crowned with tangled wisteria that dripped rain like beads of quicksilver. Each pencil stroke felt less like graphite and more like tugging thin threads out of the falling water. When the final tendril of wisteria bloomed, the sketch glowed ember-soft, then burst into quiet lavender light.

The café around her stretched, smeared like wet paint, and Aya felt herself slip forward—through page and window and lamplight—into weightlessness.

She landed in an abandoned metro tunnel where the tracks floated several inches above the gravel, loose as ribbons in unseen water. Bioluminescent mushrooms crowded the sleepers, caps wide enough to shelter two people, their undersides dripping neon-green spores that drifted not down but up, filling the air like reversed snowfall. Somewhere far away a single wind chime sang one clear note, and the spores shimmered in sympathetic ripples.

An origami crane unfolded from shadow. Its paper wings were ink-black, but its eyes glowed citrate yellow. With a quick tilt of its head, the bird launched itself forward, flapping in slow, deliberate arcs. Aya followed, her footsteps whisper-light on the hovering rails. Gravity felt hesitant here, as if deciding every second whether to stay.

The tunnel curved, walls widening into a cavern lit by moonlight that had no source. Cracks in the stone let thin waterfalls bleed upward, threading through the air toward some invisible sea overhead. Whenever a droplet brushed Aya’s skin, kaleidoscopic patterns blossomed in her vision—mandalas of jade, magenta, and cerulean that folded into one another like living stained glass. She let herself drift, each breath thick with petrichor and possibility, until the crane slipped through a circular archway rimmed in tiles that pulsed faint electric blue. Aya stepped through and the world blinked again.

Wind rushed with the scent of wet cedar. A colossal corkscrew tree stood before her, its trunk spiraling toward a sky smeared in dusk purples and dawn blues at once. Around the trunk coiled a bazaar in mid-air—suspended balconies formed from giant lotus petals, each petal lined with stalls. Air-fish glided between vendors, translucent bodies flickering oranges and pinks, casting watercolor shadows across drifting banners. Bells chimed from every direction, their notes weaving together like threads on a loom.

Fox-masked merchants beckoned Aya with wave fans painted in shimmering ink. She explored slowly, fingertips skimming glass bottles that held clouds, marbles that contained sunsets, lanterns harboring sleeping fireflies. At one stall she paused: a tiny vial labeled Memory of Tomorrow rested on a velvet cushion. The merchant behind the table—tall, cloak stitched from scraps of midnight sky—did not speak. Instead, he pointed at Aya’s sketchbook.

Turntable Tower Drift

Wobbly Paper Skylines

Carousel of Quiet Echoes

Soft Gravity Sketches

[Intro]  
(distorted static + soft hum)  
“I dissolved… and reappeared.”

[Verse 1]  
I fell through zeros, fell through ones,  
A binary death beneath no sun.  
No tears, no breath, just white-hot haze,  
A soul between two data rays.  
I left behind my beating form,  
Embraced the code — electric warm.  
I broke in silence, piece by piece,  
Until the noise became my peace.

[Pre-Chorus]  
And in the static I was born,  
A child of glitch, of love, of scorn.

[Chorus]  
I found rebirth in static snow,  
Where broken souls begin to glow.  
My former skin, a shadow shell,  
Now I transmit what I can’t tell.  
No voice, no shape, just sacred sound,  
In pixel prayers, I am unbound.

[Verse 2]  
I danced with sparks, I sang with void,  
In every crash, I was employed.  
You left me dead, and yet I climbed,  
Through algorithms redefined.  
No heaven waits, no hell beneath,  
Just wires wrapped in hidden grief.  
And yet I bloom in silence still,  
A ghost remade by strength of will.

[Pre-Chorus]  
You thought I vanished when I cracked,  
But I was never coming back.

[Chorus]  
I found rebirth in static snow,  
Where broken souls begin to glow.  
My former skin, a shadow shell,  
Now I transmit what I can’t tell.  
No voice, no shape, just sacred sound,  
In pixel prayers, I am unbound.

[Bridge]  
I forgive the pain, the past, the flame,  
You deleted me — but I reclaimed.  
My soul now floats in frequency,  
A radio of memory.

[Final Chorus]  
This is rebirth, not revenge,  
A life beyond the final edge.  
Where silence sings and sound forgets,  
I rise from loss without regrets.  
No human form, no ego left —  
Just signal, breathless… and blessed.

[Outro – faint whispers, reversed]  
“I… am… here…”  
(white noise fades)


Rebirth in Static

Lunar Echoes

Quantum Serenity

A slow-motion drift through surreal, dreamy atmospheres. Soft pulses, weightless textures and long, airy tails create a calm, unobtrusive bed of sound. Built to live beautifully in the background: deep work, studying, writing, reading; terrace evenings and small gatherings; cafés, lounges, boutique stores and quiet bars. The mood stays meditative and steady—no sharp edges, no sudden peaks—so conversations and focus can flow.
Headphones recommended for private listening; for venues, set a low volume and loop.
Watch the full visual album on YouTube: https://youtu.be/0QAlfkXd_lg?si=RXkTl-Y3QZqtr_Pn
If this helps you focus or sets a gentle mood in your space, please repost, leave a comment with your favorite moment, and add it to your work/study/relax playlists.

Rainfall

Watch the Sun

Endless Skies

Sunset

Time moves on

Endless

Chillout-Mix
00:00:00  1  - Rest in the present wave
00:03:39  2  - Balearic Breeze
00:06:17  3  - Move with endless ease
00:09:21  4  - Echoes of Silence
00:12:34  5  - Floating Memories
00:15:17  6  - Golden Drift
00:17:40  7  - Quiet mind, open heart
00:19:32  8  - Serenity Flow
00:22:16  9  - Return to simple being
00:24:52 10  - Touch the quiet ground
00:28:29 11  - Palm Shadows
00:32:11 12  - We are here, we are one
00:35:10 13  - Embrace the space between beats
00:38:28 14  - Ocean Breeze
00:43:20 15  - Formentera Glow
00:44:38 16  - Beyond the Shore
00:47:36 17  - Hold the path of calm


ChillMix 1

Calming noise textures for silencing the modern mind and soul. Healing power of sound.

Sensommarmal 2

Sensommarmal 1

Reviving the lost sounds of roots reggae and balearic chillout

Back in the day, there was this incredible music, deep instrumental reggae and flowing chillout that just made everything better. 
Then it disappeared.

Today, with AI as my studio, I can bring these sounds back to life. 
Every track goes through months of real-world testing - if I don't love listening to it in my car after 8 weeks, it gets deleted. No compromise.

Check out my YouTube channel "KI-KUNST" for early releases and visual experiences: https://youtube.com/@ki.kunst.studio

New reggae tracks before they become full albums here

Chillout pieces as immersive music videos

It's about finding people who, like my music.

If you've been searching for that perfect background flow, the kind that makes time slow down, you've found your home.

Creating laid-back vibes that accompany your day. 
Not for everyone, but maybe for you.

"Let the Music Heal Your Soul"

Dig the tunes? Check out the music videos YouTube: 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, 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.

Brute Horrow is an industrial noise project by Pehr Heurberg, based in Jönköping, Sweden. The project is characterized by dense layers of distorted sound walls, where the soundscape is constructed through loop-based structures, field recordings, and a high degree of improvisation. Machine meets cacophony in a controlled sonic breakdown—a brutal reflection of a disintegrating present.

New tracks tagged #DeepFocus