A song i made i FL studio (Mobile) 
the program crashed and deleted my project file, so this is the only version i have
Made: 15.01.2025

LonG PsyC [FL Studio Mobile]

Techno Mix for Techno Tuesday Amsterdam Opening October 22nd.

Planetary Mix 013

Well holy hell Andre it's mushroom-spaceship bananza or maybe it's just a banana OOORRR MAYBE a bandana! :) enjoy crew!
Hahah I might of taken it too far with the spaceship scene but I just couldn't get enough :)

(●'◡'●)
Stream / download / buy ➜
(❁´◡`❁)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
ᓚᘏᗢ


The Story ➜
The first time the stars breathed, Kiera thought the station’s windows were fogging from the inside. A ribbed pattern shimmered over the night—fine, parallel lines radiating outward, folding and unfolding like the underside of some celestial creature. Then the pattern vanished and the sky returned to the ordinary cold scattering of points.

Kiera held still, counting. Three seconds. Five. Eight.

The pattern returned, faint but certain: silver lamellae sliding across the constellations, as if the dark itself wore gills.

She killed the cabin lights of the Kite of Radials and let her eyes adjust. The ship—a grafted thing of bone-white ribs and black ceramic tissue—hung docked on Harbor Nine like a seed caught in a spiderweb. In the dim, the cockpit felt more grown than built: vein trails in the console resin, organ-glass curled around the navigation core, the slow pulse of the hull’s self-healing membranes.

“Show me the sky raw,” she said.

The glass peeled back its filters. Deep field flooded in, along with the faint photonic noise the station usually scrubbed. There—again—the slow, tidal sweep of lines, not atmosphere, not lensing, not a glitch. It was a rhythm. A breath.

Kiera’s left hand eased toward the lamina compass she wore on a cord around her throat. It was an old, illegal thing: a coin of frost-glass with a thin gold filament threading inside it like a living maze. At first breath the filament trembled; at the second it traced a curve to starboard. By the third, it formed an arc that settled toward a patch of nothing near the Mirror Belt.

“Coordinates,” she whispered, and the Kite woke by degrees—panels unfurling, thrusters whispering, marrow engines tasting vacuum.

Three months earlier, a courier had handed her a cloth-wrapped bundle with no name. Inside: the lamina compass and a single line of handwriting, shaped like a sigh.

Find where the stars learn to breathe.

Kiera had laughed then, because she had spent years mapping lies dressed as mysteries. Contracts with extraction fleets taught her that most wonders hid pipes and price tags. But now, with the compass thrumming and the windows showing parallel ridges slipping over starfields, the old skepticism felt thin and brittle. This wasn’t a trick. The sky had gills.

She undocked without asking permission. Harbor Nine came from a culture that never said no if you didn’t ask first, and Kiera had long since learned to protect that balance.

The Kite drifted, then glided, then became a line spreading away from the station into the black.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno   #musicvideo   #trippyvisuals   #technomusic   #visualizer   #undergroundtechno   #musicvisualizer   #melodictechno    #4kvideo   #4kvisuals   #psychedelicvisuals   #8kvideo

Gills in the Stars | Psychedelic Music Video @ YouTube

Midget & Fabius - @Gierstädt Part 1 (05.09.25)

This music video is trippy az - took a minute : https://youtu.be/riJ2PAnbyzQ

Dark, hypnotic, warehouse‑ready techno—step into the Index and don’t look back.
Rolling bass, acid edges, space‑bound pulse—built for late hours.
From void to city: a cinematic techno journey.

(●'◡'●)
Stream / download / buy ➜
(❁´◡`❁)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
ᓚᘏᗢ


The Story ➜
There is a library that rotates around a star that does not shine.

The star is called the Umbra Crown, an object that drinks light the way dry soil swallows rain. Around it, on a safe, slow ring, floats the Palimpsest Array—thirty‑one linked hulls and one cathedral of glass mathematics, all of it oriented toward a thing no eye can see. The Array keeps records of what the universe attempts, fails, revises, and forgets.

In Vault Nine, behind shutters etched with compass roses, the Index of Lost Vectors sleeps in a cradle of null‑metal. It is not a book. It is not a map. It is a living catalog of directions that once were real and then weren’t: bearings erased by paradox, routes collapsed by war, trajectories canceled by the absolute pressure of someone’s choice.

Every so often, a new arrow appears in the Index, pointing toward nothing and still insisting it points. That insistence is hard to ignore when your job title is Vectorist.

Kael Ivers had held that title for sixteen years. They had seen the Index wake exactly three times.

On the fourth, the arrows did not appear.

They bloomed.

I — Arrowfall

Kael did not dream in pictures. They dreamed in angles: a narrow gate of ninety degrees held like a promise, an indulgent sweep of one hundred twenty that never closed where you thought it would. That night, in the small sleep between the first cup of bitter broth and the second, Kael dreamed a circle that would not stay circle. It kept erupting with tangents, each tangent a pale hairline of intent.

They woke with the taste of tin in their mouth and the feeling of a room straightening around them.

“Vault Nine,” said the Array, warm and calm in Kael’s ear. The Array never hurried its vowels. “The Index is agitated.”

Kael rolled off the hammock, slid into a field jacket, and jogged through the airless corridor. The shard windows along the passage showed a black full of small, reluctant stars. The Umbra Crown lived where no starlight reached, but the shyer stars still haunted the periphery.

The vault door recognized Kael’s gait before it recognized their badge. Inside, the Index floated—a torus of glass, a halo with a heart. When it slept, it looked like a ring made by someone who understands rings only as an idea. When it woke, angles sprouted from it the way grass erupts after a secret rain.

Today, it was a meadow.

Thousands of vectors had blossomed out of the torus, paper‑thin and luminous. They didn’t point to random; they pointed toward a choreography. Some curved, some refused to bow; others leaned with the authority of a road that predates the city it enters.

Kael did not touch it. They didn’t have to. The vectors brushed the surface of their attention and left afterimages that behaved like memory. The taste of tin intensified.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno   #musicvideo   #trippyvisuals   #technomusic   #visualizer   #undergroundtechno   #musicvisualizer   #melodictechno    #4kvideo   #4kvisuals   #psychedelicvisuals   #8kvideo  #peaktimetechno  #drivingtechno  #darktechno  #hypnotictechno  #acidtechno  #warehouse   #cinematicmusic  #scifiadventure

Index of Lost Vectors | Uber Trippy Morphing Music Video @ YouTube

Music Video : https://youtu.be/mP6bBJcqZG4

Rolling, peak‑time techno engineered for the warehouse.
Dark, driving techno with industrial grit and acid ghosts.
A hypnotic techno descent—warehouse rave energy, cinematic rise.

Stream / download / buy ➜
(●'◡'●)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
Hypha Crown Pilgrim

The door appeared where the salt‑blue plain met the thought of a horizon. It had no hinges and no handle—only a seam of rain‑smelling dusk that traced a tall, thin ellipse in the air, as if the world had remembered an opening and then drawn it by reflex. Under the crust of the plain, pale threads stirred. They quivered like sleepers waking from long, accurate dreams.

Saephra stood before the seam, studying the faint letters gathering along its edge. Letters wasn’t the right word. The markings looked like frost, moved like ideas, and each carried a taste—copper, cedar, old stars. Saephra read them without eyes; the gill‑veils at their throat tensed and released, sifting the air for sense the way oysters tease salt from tide.

Saephra’s body shifted with the wind. Bones of smoked glass, flexible and resonant. Skin thin and living, patterned like a leaf—networks of capillaries that were not blood but hyphae, carrying light where blood might have carried warmth. Their hair wasn’t hair so much as a down of dormant filaments, pearl‑grey now, yet to bloom into the arcs and tassels that would name them Pilgrim. Above Saephra floated a halo the size of a tea saucer, a ring of dew held together by tension and will. It was a seed, coaxed from the Root Cathedral and entrusted to no one and nothing—until it had chosen Saephra with a voice like gentle thunder and a soft, inexorable tug toward this seam.

A wind came across the plain; it lifted grains of salt and secreted them back into the ground. The seam inhaled. Lichen script bloomed brighter, and in that instant the door became a door by ceasing to be a question. Saephra stepped forward. The seam opened, becoming a corridor lined with lamps that grew by themselves—a procession of mushroom caps as thin as coins, each one lit from within. Their gills were a cartographer’s daydream, filigreed and tight; when Saephra moved, the lamps’ light split into orderly, LSD‑clean bands, and the air arranged the colors into columns like a filing system for rainbows.

Saephra bowed to the lamps. Not a learned bow, but the courtesy that happens when a breath regards another breath. The corridor exhaled in answer, and Saephra felt the ground begin to change beneath their feet—if feet were the word for the yes‑shaped pads that loosened when they needed grip and rolled into glides when the road called for speed. The floor became threads. Threads became a road. Through the weave of hyphae Saephra could see a second sky, slowly turning under all other things, wheels within wheels: a patient star‑machine.

In the thread‑road’s gleam, the dew seed above Saephra’s crown shivered. It would be a crown if it learned Saephra’s path well enough to answer it. Pilgrim was not a title given; it was a shape the world would admit only when worn by someone already walking like a pledge.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno  #trippyvisuals  #technomusic  #visualizer  #undergroundtechno  #musicvisualizer  #4kvideo  #4kvisuals  #psychedelicvisuals  #peaktimetechno  #hardtechno  #hypnotictechno  #drivingtechno  #melodictechno  #aimusicvideo

Hypha Crown Pilgrim | Trippy Video on YouTUbe

Deep/minimal groove with trippy ultra‑real visuals. Enter the corridor.
A fractal sun over glass dunes—hypnotic techno immersion.
Dark kicks, deep subs, cosmic glow—get lost in the visuals.

Stream / download / buy ➜
(●'◡'●)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
I — The Door Beneath the Dark

The star was a fever that never cooled. From orbit it painted the hard vacuum with spirals of color too precise to be chance: lime, magenta, ultraviolet lattices shimmering like the wings of mythic insects. The Hyphaeryx named it the LSD Sun for the way its light convinced stone to dream and dunes to rearrange themselves into perfect mandalas. Around this sun drifted a desert of comet‑ground silica, fused and refrozen into rippling continents. The dunes rolled on tides of radiance rather than wind, sculpted by spectra that moved with the patience of continental drift and the caprice of a hallucination.

Vhorin arrived not in a vessel but in a germination. His body stepped out of a seed that had been a star only yesterday; he shook the last dew of cold nebula from his shoulders and watched it evaporate into petals of cyan steam. The dunes murmured in color. Far beneath his feet, he felt the Hyphosphere stir—threads of living matter braided through the vacuum like the roots of a forest that had traded soil for starlight.

He walked until the dune‑faces climbed to meet the sky, tall as mountains and rimmed with auroral fire. At the base of one such face a circle of gills irised open in the dark glass as if the dune itself had been holding its breath. The hatch exhaled a fine mist—spores sculpted into vowels—and in their pattern Vhorin read greeting and test.

“I have come for the corridor,” he said, and his voice was a fiber of gold weaving itself into the mist.

The hatch widened. Beneath it, a stair spiraled away into a coolness that was not darkness so much as uncommitted color. Vhorin lifted one foot, then the other, and descended into the under‑dune where gravity behaved like a thought that refused to settle.

II — Gravities Turning

The stair did not point down. It turned toward a vector Vhorin could only name by taste: metal with a citrus tremor. Each step unhooked weight from one meaning and relayed it to another. The dunes above forgot he had ever stood upon them. Somewhere behind his eyes, a flock of phosphorescent glyphs convened: coordinates singing to each other in a language of angles.

Walls of interlaced hyphae rose around him, pale braids pulsing with slow, star‑blue light. He let his fingers brush the living weave. It shivered and disclosed a map—strands touched strands, and whole constellations changed their minds about where they lived. High overhead, where “overhead” was temporarily plural, he glimpsed DMT auroras sliding through the rock like cattails through riverwater: mint green, persimmon, electric violet. Each color drafted a hypothesis of the corridor’s location.

He tasted the air with the filaments along his wrists and whispered his lineage—the spore‑names and filament‑houses that had grown him. The stair humbled to a ramp and the ramp bent open into a chamber where the ceiling was not a ceiling but a low sky.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno  #trippyvisuals  #technomusic  #visualizer  #undergroundtechno  #musicvisualizer  #4kvideo  #4kvisuals  #psychedelicvisuals  #peaktimetechno  #hypnotictechno  #drivingtechno  #melodictechno  #aimusicvideo

Dunes of the LSD Sun | Cinematic Visual Trip @ YouTube

Hard techno + sci‑fi visuals—enter the dark warehouse at 4AM.
Peak‑time energy with hypnotic, trippy visuals in 4K—go deep.
Raw, deep, hypnotic techno—late‑night sci‑fi trip.

Stream / download / buy ➜
(●'◡'●)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
Prologue: The Mote That Sang Coordinates
In the cold fold beyond the Perseid wake, a glint of biology threaded with machinery drifted like a seed waiting for soil. The vessel had once been named for a numbered star, but that name had long since been composted by its living hull. Now it was simply the Ship That Grew a Forest, and it was dreaming itself apart.

The call that reached the Lattice did not arrive as sound or code. It arrived as fragrance—notes of rain on copper, lichen warmed by moonlight, resin char from a fire that had never burned. Those who could taste messages tasted it and turned their attention. Those who could walk the geometry between intentions chose a courier.

The courier’s name was Vyr, a bipedal being of amber cartilage and night‑black bark. Vyr was not born so much as distilled from woodland thunder, given joints that clicked like patient metronomes and lungs thick with spores that glowed when it thought. It wore no armor, only a cloak woven from mycelial skeins that learned whatever they touched. Every step it took made a quiet pattern in the air, as if the floor had become a pond and its feet were pebbles thrown carefully into it.

At the edge of the derelict, Vyr found a hull grown into arches and buttresses, cathedral‑minded, a skeleton trellised with luminous growth. The ship had weathered vacuum as if vacuum were merely another winter. Filaments strung from rib to rib like constellations. Caps the size of shields opened to text the dark with bio‑luminescent grammar.

The scent‑message burned brighter. Vyr inhaled. The spores kindled in its lungs, and the path unfolded.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno #trippyvisuals #technomusic #visualizer #undergroundtechno #musicvisualizer #4kvideo #4kvisuals #psychedelicvisuals #peaktimetechno #hypnotictechno #drivingtechno #melodictechno #aimusicvideo

The Ship That Grew a Forest | Music Video on YouTube

Fabius & Midget -@Midgets Homebase (11.10.2025)

Midget & Fabius - @Midgets Homebase (11.10.25)

Fresh from the archive! --
A Fruity Loops live-jam of a rave-enthusiastic, 18-year old Xavier Weydert, recorded in his bedroom-studio. 
An un-expected twist happens in the middle of the track and teleports to a trippy snakecharmer-vibe with even heavier jungle-breaks.

Gear: Desktop PC, Akai MPK49, Korg KP3, Behringer BCF 2000.

(c) 2025 Raveunit Records Vienna.

Oboskop - Freeflex (live) Phase EP 1  [2008]

Uncut Fl Studio 9 jam-session by early 18 yrs old Oboskop,
Recorded on the 25th of August 2008, in Aspelt - Luxembourg.
-
When you get transported by the OCB Mystasine,
time takes a different approach to surround you--
And sneak-up on you.
That's why you need to hide well, wait -
over the trembling footsteps of the patrol-
Then... when the calm returns, enjoy to the fullest while sippin' some flavorine.

Mystasine, which is the main ingredient of the de-integration drink,
makes you dis-obedient and grateful to be. And to see!
_________________________
_________________________

Either way - this sound is not yet ready for consumption.

*Sound advice: When playing this on a smaller PA, apply a Highpass-Filter (HPF) at 70 Hz.

Enjoy, X.

Oboskop - OCB Mystasine || }{{}}{{}}{{} || 2008

Psy music video : https://youtu.be/4FiV5PqiR84

Hypnotic melodic techno with trippy sci‑fi worlds—headphones on.
123 BPM deep melodic techno—cosmic warehouse energy, hypnotic groove.
Hypnotic techno + cinematic visuals: step through the mycelial gate.

Stream / download / buy ➜
(●'◡'●)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
By the time the firmament loosened, the sky poured in threads rather than rain. Each filament was a liquid line of star‑light, silver at its core and haloed by shifting colors, a river falling upward as much as down. The elders called it Liquid Star Dawn, a rare hour when the night remembered its own birth and melted into rivers that ran between the worlds. It happened once in an age, and it unstitched distance. Roads grew out of it like veins. Gateways remembered how to breathe.

On the edge of a bioluminescent vale, where luminous mushrooms rose like spires and bells, a figure waited who was not made of simple flesh. Vaelith was of the Luminari Myce, a humanoid people whose skin was a tapestry of living threads. Soft blue light drifted beneath her filaments the way pulse drifts beneath translucent wings. In the dark, she looked like a map of constellations walking upright. Along her skull grew a crown of pale, antler‑like hyphae; each antler sprouted tiny lantern caps whose gills breathed faint, cold fire. Where others slept, Vaelith listened—to soils, to stones, to the small sighs the world makes when it changes its mind.

Liquid Star Dawn had been whispered across the roots for weeks before the sky finally unlatched. The Dream‑Mirror Tides—a bright, crystalline wind that turned reflections into gates—were said to follow the star‑rivers and shape them into bridges. Only myth had returned from those bridges, myth and the occasional traveler who came back with a new shadow, or none at all. Vaelith had been chosen to follow the first, brightest stream to its fount and bring back a draught for the sleeping Crown Titan far below the mycelial cathedrals. The Titan was the island’s dreamer; without its dreaming, forests would forget their own names and wind would forget to be kind.

Vaelith wore a mantle of night‑ferns and a belt woven of moon‑vine. On her palms, her filaments unfurled into soft cilia, quick to taste the air for changes. Slung over one shoulder was a lattice instrument called a chronophore, grown from the ribs of ancient shelf‑mushrooms; it did not measure time, but angles of possibility, the way a compass measures north. The chronophore rattled gently as the first star‑threads pooled into a shallow, shining river across the mushroom clearing.

A silhouette lifted from the far side of the grove, taller than any stag, more delicate than any deer. Its antlers were a choir of intricate loops; its face was a mask of obsidian facets reflecting a horizon no one could presently see.

“Treadlight,” Vaelith greeted, dipping her head.

The horned being bowed, and its many eyes blinked in slow sequence, like a constellation shuttering. Treadlight was an Aether Cervid, a creature of the Dream‑Mirror Tides, summoned by the promise of Liquid Star Dawn. Its hooves did not touch earth; they visited it.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno #trippyvisuals #technomusic #visualizer #undergroundtechno #musicvisualizer #4kvideo #4kvisuals #psychedelicvisuals #peaktimetechno #hypnotictechno #drivingtechno #melodictechno #aimusicvideo

Liquid Star Dawn ][ Trippy Video on YouTube

L` Arcangelo DJ

Are You My Angel

Prisse - un.Framed Series 02 DJ set 
1 Hour of deep dub-techno and minimal house grooves.

Recorded live at un.Framed Studio, Constanța.

The full track selection will be made public in the description once the mix hits 1,000 plays! 

🎥 WATCH THE VIDEO MIX ON YOUTUBE: 
https://youtu.be/t6dav58tRCE?si=-KL5ihOHb7qz1DU3

FOLLOW PRISSE:

🎧 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/__prisse__/

📧 DM For Bookings

Prisse (Caractere) - un.Framed Series 02

Alexandre Escola - Titano Machine (original mix)

some minimal tekno 

i dont own the tracks i mix so go show love to the og artist
-David Phoenix, 8kicks - Vulture (Original Mix)
-TiM TASTE - Selection

minimal tekno

Music video : https://youtu.be/B7FtYZ7AfEU

Melodic peak time techno trip through a dark fantasy mycelium realm.
Dark psychedelic techno journey with cinematic sci‑fi visuals.
Underground melodic techno soundtrack for your next rave night.

Stream / download / buy ➜
(●'◡'●)
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
Prologue – The Prismfold

The realm was sick in a beautiful way.

Across the Prismfold, reality no longer held still. Horizons rippled like liquid stained glass. Mountains folded inward into impossible angles, then unfolded into forests of crystal, then dissolved into drifting clouds of symbols before they remembered they were mountains again.

Once, this constant changing had a pattern. Every shift followed invisible rules, watched over by ancient beings known only as the Kaleidoscopic Gatekeepers. They sat at the passageways between domains, steering the flows of colour, form, and meaning so that travellers could cross without being shredded into nonsense.

But the pattern was slipping.

Gates misfired. Pathways closed halfway through. Travellers stepped out of one domain and never quite arrived in another, suspended as trembling mosaics in the empty between. The Prismfold was filling with half-finished thoughts.

In a pocket of relative stillness stood a lone figure.

They were not human. They were Shardborn—a tall, lithe humanoid shape composed of overlapping fragments of translucent crystal. Each shard reflected a different sky, a different landscape, a different version of themself. Their name was Kethriel, though in some shards they also answered to other names they had never spoken aloud.

Where a heart should be, Kethriel carried a Liminal Core: a slow-turning knot of mycelial roots and prisms, pulsing faintly with soft ultraviolet. When the Core warmed, a gate was near. When it burned, reality itself wanted something.

Tonight, it burned.

The air around Kethriel shimmered, and the ground beneath their bare crystal feet shifted from solid stone to a glowing mesh of bioluminescent mycelium. The threads pulsed in intricate patterns, like a living circuit board grown from psilocybin-soaked roots. Mushroom towers rose in the distance—giants with caps like stained-glass domes, breathing out glowing spores that floated in patient spirals.

Kethriel watched as lines of neon light traced themselves through the mycelial net, converging into intricate sigils. Each sigil resembled a tiny square of artwork, dots and swirls and animal-less constellations laid out in precise grids—as if the world were printing its own enormous, animated sheets of LSD-like designs underground.

At the center of those patterns, a ring of shifting triangles opened, not downward but inward.

A gate.

The stories said the Kaleidoscopic Gatekeepers had fallen silent.

Kethriel knew, with a certainty that resonated all the way into their Liminal Core, that if they stepped into that ring, silence would end.

One way or another.

They stepped forward.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno #trippyvisuals #technomusic #visualizer #undergroundtechno #musicvisualizer #4kvideo #4kvisuals #psychedelicvisuals #peaktimetechno #hypnotictechno #drivingtechno #melodictechno #aimusicvideo

Kaleidoscopic Gatekeepers | Video On YouTube

Midget = Techno ~ mal melodisch. mal weniger melodisch ~ mal schneller, mal langsamer = aber immer tanzbar!

Ich freue mich über jeden like, play, repost und bla bla bla....

Dj und Producer seit 2008! 

Grüüüüüße
Midget

[☣︎] ⊤.∈.⋐.≩.∑.⋥.≀.∧ [☣︎]

Male
age: 34
Genre; Experimental Industrial Techno/Aggrotech

influenced by bands like:
 Centhron, Nachtmahr, Gorgoroth, 
Mick Gordon, Pestdokter, Sub Zero Project.. etc

Currently exploring sounds... Zzz

✉️ info@iceyplanet.com

i touched a deck for the first time at the start of october 2025     so im only getting better as time goes on :)

!!feel free to remix and re-upload as long as you give credit!!
(i dont own the music i mix so go show love to the og artists!)

🎧 Welcome to the Sound of Arty3eatz 🎧

Ich bin Arty3eatz – Producer, Soundtüftler und Liebhaber hypnotischer Klänge. Hier teile ich meine eigenen Tracks, Remixe und alles, was elektronische Musik lebendig macht. Ob treibender Bass, sphärische Vocals

🎶 🎵 Arty3eatz Techno | Vocal Trance | House Deep Vibes. Pure Sound.

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

Website or Instagram for booking.

Need change - going into the depths.

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.

DJ & Producer https://soundcloud.com/ro-caractere (Hypertone Records/Consumed Music/Vandalism Music Group/Alboratory records)

Contact: ro.caractere@gmail.com

Sound Experimentalist and Maker,
Performing live-techno as @Oboskop since 2011.
aka. The man with the loupe.

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'Obos' is the essence. 'Skop' is the scope.

Never locking myself on specific styles,
I go where the sound takes me.
Busting the heartless and generic sound!
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► You can buy some of my music on Bandcamp.

7" Dubplates available on request. Shipping from Amsterdam.

► Contact & Booking :

info [] oboskop.com
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► Please note: I keep my tracks organized in the playlists Tab,  & newer tracks are PRIVATE only.
(Note: DJ's - please DM or drop me an e-mail for promos.)

New tracks tagged #Minimal-techno