TECHNO DREAM Live Set for Stansa Record @PNC Radio Barcelona

Acid is Love

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nightmare_techno/

7h Techno from Soft to Hard

Kein Hype, kein Filter.
Nur Sound, der bleibt.
Die Signature Series ist mein persönlicher Tribut an Tracks und Artists, die was bewegen – ehrlich, roh, direkt.
Für alle, die Musik nicht nur hören, sondern fühlen.

Even Voids have Sounds.

🔊 FULL SET HERE → → →
https://soundcloud.com/nextone-224083015/signature-series-vol2

Teaser #1 - Signature Sounds Vol.2 - Filling Voids in the Echoes of Sound

>> Full Set: https://soundcloud.com/nextone-224083015/signature-series-vol2 <<


Teaser #2 - Signature Series Vol.2

Dirty Techno#3

Enjoy and have a nice Trip! <3


The Voyage brings us to the the next step of 
"NexTone’s Guide through the Galaxy".
 ....no matter what don´t Panic! Just prepare your Towel. 🌀

(Techno/PsyTech Journey @ 125-128 BPM)

Intro/Story:

Ein Flackern, ein Schatten, so leise, ganz sacht,
Weit in der Ferne durchdringt ein Sturm, die tiefschwarze Nacht.
Die Luft wird dünn, das Atmen fällt schwer,
die Angst kriecht näher, denn sie will mehr.
Es beginnt nicht im äußeren – es tobt tief dir,
ein Beben tief im Innern, wie ein hungriges Tier.
Ein Schritt nach vorn, zwei wieder zurück,
verloren im Strudel, ohne Ausweg, ohne Glück.
Doch tief in dem Dunkel liegt die Wahrheit verborgen,
Sie flüstert dir erst Lügen und nährt deine Sorgen. 
Denn um Wahrheit zu finden, musst du erst dich selbst erkennen.
Panic Spiral, schwarz und glatt,
ohne Gnade reißt Sie dich hinab…Kein Ende, nur Anfang – im Sturz liegt das Ziel.

Ein Klang ertönt, ein Feuer entfacht, Grenzen verbrennen..
Gereinigt und wach….zu Ende das Spiel.
So tanze durch Schatten, entfalte dein Licht,
denn ohne das Dunkel strahlt die Wahrheit nicht.

Frei übersetzt und inspiriert aus "Sin Djalin - Panic Spiral (Original Mix)"
--

Originaltext (english) 

Flickers down, a shadow moves near,
it’s quiet at first – just a whisper of fear.
My chest tightens slowly, the air turns thin,
a storm’s brewin’ deep, but it starts within.
I count the seconds one by one,
but the storm won’t end – it’s only begun.
Panic Spiral, black and sleek,
whispers lies, the truth I seek.
One step forward and two steps down,
I'm afraid the spiral won.

Before the Rise. There will be Purge! (PsyTech/Techno)

First ever b2b session between two techno minds with a shared vision: dark, relentless grooves and high-speed energy. From Mutual Rytm to Sway to Figure – pure fire from start to finish.
No talking, no trends – just music.

💣 Follow us:
https://www.instagram.com/benjaminstahl_music
https://www.instagram.com/openend23

Full tracklist below.


TRACKLIST SHORTMIX 104 BY BENJAMIN STAHL B2B OPENEND23

01. MARCO BAILEY - DYSTOPIA (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: MATERIA  
02. CHRIS LIEBING - KAIZEN (ORIGINAL MIX)  
03. DJ PLANT TEXTURE - WORMHOLE (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: MUTUAL RYTM  
04. VINICIUS HONORIO, THEO N - ENDLESS LOVE (HARDSPACE, LEN FAKI REMIX)  
05. UNCERTAIN - GENERATE (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: INTEC  
06. PAN-POT - AERO (EXTENDED WAREHOUSE MIX)  
07. ANTONIO GALANT - THE FIRST (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: M4RLOW RECORDS  
08. PHIL BERG - KAMINO (ORIGINAL MIX)  
09. CHILDOV, T.A.M - BIPOLAR (UNIVRZ REMIX) - LABEL: THE ACID MIND CORE  
10. HECKMANN, THOMAS P. H - HIMMEL & HOELLE (ORIGINAL MIX)  
11. SEÁN CUNNINGHAM - GUNSLINGER (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: SWAY  
12. RAMON TAPIA - SUPERSTITION (ORIGINAL MIX)  
13. THE SOUTHERN - DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: CONTEMPO  
14. DAVID MEISER - SUPERSTITION  
15. BROKEN ROBOT - ANATIS (ORIGINAL MIX) - LABEL: PROSPECT RECORDS  
16. DAVID MEISER - DANCE. MOVE. REPEAT. (ORIGINAL MIX)  
17. LEN FAKI - ZIG ZAG (VERSION) - LABEL: FIGURE  
18. MAURO PICOTTO - UNDERGROUND / BAGUETTE (UNDERGROUND)  
19. DAVID MEISER - GENERATION ANTHEMS (ORIGINAL MIX)  
20. OBSCURE SHAPE - REBORN IDENTITY (DJ RUSH REMIX)

Shortmix 104

Youtube

Ever seen mushrooms taller than skyscrapers? Ride the beat into space at 144 BPM.
---
Please follow - https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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Dark melodic techno + trippy sci‑fi visuals = your new late‑night obsession.
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Please follow - https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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Ember‑Step Eclipse
---
Follow on SoundCloud for more tracks : https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
---
Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
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https://grasspatchbum.com/
4K Music Video : https://youtu.be/Zl849OQ-hTY
---
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
---
#EmberStepEclipse #PeakTimeTechno #MelodicTechno #DarkTechno #PsychedelicTechno #SciFiVisuals #FantasyVisuals #PsytranceVibes #4KVisualizer #UltraHDMusic #CosmicJourney #SpaceMusic #PsychedelicArt #TrippyBeats #MindBending #EpicMusicVideo #ElectronicOdyssey #GalacticRave #AstralBeats #HypnoticGroove #NightDriveMusic #RaveCulture #BassHeavy #StargazingSounds #NeonDreams #CosmicForest #FractalWorlds #MushroomUniverse #VisualStorytelling #LateNightSet #SciFiTechnoStory #FantasyRave #CelestialBassline #NebulaGroove #SolarEclipseDrop #KaleidoscopeBeats #MycelialRiddim #QuantumDance #InterstellarHouse #PsyLaserShow #ZeroGravityRave #CosmicWaveform #DreamscapeTechno #VoyagerVibes #OtherworldlyAudio
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1 - The Cinder-Pillar
Lyra Qel, vagabond astronomer, stood at the lip of a canyon carved from living obsidian. Above her, a violet sky churned with two suns—one the usual gold orb, the other a sullen red dwarf that spun the seasons backward every thirteen years. Tonight those suns would graze each other’s edges, birthing the long-prophesied Ember Step Eclipse.

Legend claimed that during the brief overlap, hidden cinders of an ancient star would awaken, spilling their power across the molten seams of the planet. Lyra did not chase legends; she chased coordinates. For months she had followed silent transmissions whispered along the ionosphere—eerie pulses in A-minor at exactly 144 beats per minute—until they triangulated on this canyon: a scar locals called the Cinder-Pillar. Its floor writhed with luminous spores, each glowing ember-orange like miniature suns waiting to hatch.

Lyra descended switchbacks that clung to the glassy wall. With every step, the canyon vibrated—bass you could feel in bone, though no wind stirred. Halfway down she met Branck, a towering, iridescent myco-golem whose torso resembled braided vines of copper and quartz. Branck bowed, antennae flickering.

“Pilgrim,” he rasped, voice like sand over cymbals, “the eclipse nears. Will you dance the Ember Step?”

Lyra smirked. “If the earth gives me a beat, I’ll try not to miss it.”

2 - Bassline of the Deep
The canyon floor opened into a meadow of fungal colossi—mushrooms the size of auditoriums, their caps shimmering with shifting constellations. Beneath their roots, sub-bass rumblings synced to Lyra’s pulse: 144, 145, 144 BPM—always resolving back like a cosmic metronome.

Branck led her through arches of spore-mist that painted kaleidoscopic trails in the air: emerald becoming amethyst, tangerine melting into cerulean. Each inhalation tingled behind Lyra’s eyes, widening her focus until she tasted sound and heard color.

They arrived at a pedestal carved from amethyst glass. Hovering above it rotated a single Cindercore—a marble of star-stuff swirling with molten fractals. When Lyra’s shadow touched its surface, the quartz pedestal shattered into levitating shards that formed a spiral staircase straight into the sky.

---

Continues on the website: 
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/07/07/ember%e2%80%91step-eclipse/

Ember Step Eclipse

Saturday bangers babay!
A little psychedelia for yah peepers my peoples! 😘💚
-
Stream / download / buy ➜
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
-
Neo rave sci‑fi visuals with ruthless hard techno drive.
-
Helix of the Bioluminal Oracle
-
Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
Trippy Music Video : https://youtu.be/tTh2kXk3rT0
-
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
-

There's a STORY!!! ;)
I — The Map That Wasn’t a Map

You arrive where the atlas stops pretending it knows anything.

Beyond the ridge, the land is a black opal plain veined with cobalt veins that hum in no wind. A hush sits on it the way frost sits on grass—delicate, temporary, sacred if you move gently enough. The dew here is wrong in the way a dream is wrong: each bead is too round, too steady, too awake. They don’t roll or soak in. They hold. They wait.

You kneel and the beads reflect not your face but diagrams—hexes nested in hexes, spirals that refuse to end, angles that feel like numbers you once knew. The longer you look, the more they join: a filament touches a filament, and there’s a glow passing between them like the smallest current. It is not water. It is a statement.

The old story said the Oracle grows where dew refuses to be only dew.

You rise, dust the grit from your palms, and walk without choosing a direction. The plain chooses for you. Lines of cold light thread from bead to bead like veins answering a heartbeat. The geometry doesn’t push, it persuades, shaping your steps, showing paths only as you take them. The horizon stays perfectly level, the sky a long bruise of cobalt with a single pale star pinned in the wrong place. Your breath fogs and then the fog arranges itself into numerals you cannot read and then dissolves. It’s almost kind, the way this place tells you: you are in the presence of a very patient intelligence.

When you feel it—before you see it—the hair along your arms rises not from fear but from recognition. As if a song you used to know finds your throat from the outside.

And then you see the Oracle.

II — The Humanoid That Was Also a Tree

It towers but does not loom. A torso of varnished bark with shoulders braided out of roots, hips heavy with the memory of storms. The arms bend the way branches bend, and where hands should be, the wood splits into filigreed fronds—their undersides ribbed with gill-like lamellae that pulse with bioluminescence. The face is not a face, not really, but a mask of old growth and lichen with hollows where eyes should be; inside those hollows slow constellations wheel like watch gears. A crown of fruiting bodies bursts from the skull and then recedes, then blooms again in a long, tidal breath, spores drifting like snow that has learned how to glow.

Its feet are not feet, they are a root-crown woven into the plain, plugged into the dew like a nerve into a brain.

You do not speak. You bring your question the way you were taught to carry flame—cupped, stubborn against the wind. The question is old and small enough to be dangerous: what am I for?


Continues on the website: https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/08/16/cobalt-dewfall-geometry/

#techno  #hardtechno  #peaktimetechno  #hardgroove #fasttechno #industrialtechno  #schranz  #warehouserave  #ravevisualizer #cinematic3d  #aimusicvideo

Cobalt Dewfall Geometry - Mushroom Visualizer @ YouTube

A hypnotic 8K sci‑fi voyage—deep bass, trippy geometry, melodic lift‑offs.
Melodic, psychedelic, progressive—zero‑gravity techno for late hours.
Minimal to massive: trippy textures, deep drive, melodic bloom.

8K Video: https://youtu.be/_6mjYbS_-6Y

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


The Story ➜
The shuttle cut across the dark like a scalpel of dull chrome, its hull showing only a thin comb of starlight as it banked toward the Quay. Below, an archipelago of structures rose out of the vacuum—a ring of barbed petals and glassy ribs, like a flower pressed between the pages of physics. They called it Tessellation Quay, and at its center—hung on invisible filaments—waited a round, black sheet with a faint sheen, as if it were coated in oil that refused to drip.

Amri Quell watched it tilt, an angle shifting against nothingness, and adjusted her ship’s attitude until her reflection skimmed the slick surface and fractured into a dozen faint copies. The copies kept flying, like she did, but their courses were off by the smallest degree, and she had a brief, superstitious fear each one would plow into some invisible wall she’d avoid only by accident.

“The Mirror’s awake,” said the Quay’s traffic mind, its voice a steady alto that made no effort to be comforting. “Dock on rib seven. Your sponsor is waiting. And Amri—don’t touch the surface.”

“As if anyone comes this far to smudge a priceless artifact,” she said, and let the shuttle kiss the rib with a well-practiced lean.

Mag clamps took hold. The cockpit glass irised open. She climbed down into air laced with a mineral chill and the faint musk of wet soil—the Quay kept gardens threaded everywhere, corridors furry with moss and filaments, a mycelial skeleton that made walking through the place feel like navigating a living lung. The filament glow was gentle, teal and cobalt, as if bioluminescence had learned restraint.

A figure waited at the end of the causeway—a long coat, a thin halo of thin-film iridescence around the shoulders, and the austere expression of a person who conversed mostly with machines.

“Conservator Nals,” said Amri. “You look exactly like your letters, which is mildly disappointing.”

“Pilot Quell,” Nals said, dry. “You look exactly like someone who doesn’t believe in mirrors.”

“I believe in mirrors. I don’t trust them.”

“Good. The Rosette returns mistrust with courtesy. Come.”

They walked a narrow path that spiraled inward, over a dark well where the Mirror hung. From above, it was not perfectly round. Its edge flowered into petals of angle—eight elaborate lobes, like a rosette carved from shadow. Each lobe was the suggestion of symmetry, not symmetry itself; when she tried to count the facets at any given radius, the count changed by one, as if the Mirror reserved the right to differ with her.

“Everyone calls it the Rosette Mirror,” Nals said. “But that’s not its name. It’s an artifact we don’t know how to name.”

“What does it test?” Amri said.

“Continuity.”

“Of what?”

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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https://grasspatchbum.com/
ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ
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#techno  #musicvideo  #trippyvisuals  #technomusic  #visualizer  #undergroundtechno  #musicvisualizer  #melodictechno   #4kvideo  #4kvisuals  #psychedelicvisuals  #8kvideo

Rosette Mirror Test - 8K Psy Video on Youtube

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
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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.


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https://grasspatchbum.com/
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#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

Psychedelic music video : https://youtu.be/w57--vqBbmo

Lanterns lead the way—hypnotic, peak‑time energy for the night shift.
Dark, driving, hypnotic—follow the path and don’t look back.
From hush to relentless groove—step into the Elsepath.

Stream / download / buy ➜
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The Story  ➜  ᓚᘏᗢ
I — The Beacon and the First Lantern

At moon‑zero, the meadow remembered how to breathe.

Its surface looked like dew until you knelt close and saw the dew was a crowd of micro‑lanterns—round as seeds, each holding a patient ember—the kind of glow you notice first in your peripheral vision. They were asleep, nested at the rims of opal‑capped mushrooms whose gills pulsed as if listening for a hand. The air tasted bright, with a citrus‑metal afterthought. Somewhere underfoot, a slow machine turned: roots counting, capillaries arguing, distance learning to be flexible.

Iri arrived without sound, a dark coat unruffled by the sideways breeze. They had been told the Elsepath only appears to people who are not sure the next step belongs to them. That was true. Uncertainty had followed them for months, soft and insistent as fog. It had the shape of a coin they did not own, and the weight of a question that would not settle.

On this night, a Fractal Beacon uncoiled above the meadow like a spiral drawn by a patient giant. It wasn’t a tower or a flame but a geometry of light, threadlike and certain, rising from the mushroom field and stopping at a height that felt intentional. When it pulsed, hundreds of the tiny lanterns woke in a quiet shiver and lifted, no heavier than breath, to form a hovering halo of seeds around Iri’s shoulders.

“Lanterns of the Elsepath,” Iri said without speaking. It was not a spell. It was manners.

The lanterns answered by drifting into a pattern—three triangles arranged inside a fourth, lines of glow between them like veins in a leaf. The pattern hung in the air, rotated once, and slid forward, an invitation to follow. The Beacon brightened by a degree the eye could not measure but the skin could feel. The mushrooms nodded, gills opening, exhaling a faint, LSD‑like color split that sliced Iri’s silhouette into green, violet, and cobalt for a blink. When the colors rejoined, the Elsepath appeared under their feet.

It didn’t look like a road. It looked like an angle deciding to last.

Iri stepped onto it.

II — Lattice Footfall

The path assembled one stride ahead, one stride behind, never all at once: a lattice of glass treads supported by nothing, each step humming a tone you didn’t hear so much as feel as a temperature of blue. The lanterns gathered at ankle and wrist height, forming little way‑plumes that cooled when the foot was placed, warmed when it lifted, learning Iri’s rhythm with the eagerness of new rain memorizing a roof.

On either side of the lattice, the meadow folded into planes of possibility like pages that had forgotten which book they belonged to. In one plane, a fog of DMT dragonflies combed the air with thread‑thin UV trails, knitting invisible nets that only became visible when a lantern drifted too near and lit them. In another, the horizon had a seam—just a neat stitch of gold—where day and night agreed to shake hands.

Continues on the website.


ಥ_ಥ
Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
o(*^＠^*)o
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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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

Lanterns of the Elsepath >|< Psy Music Video at 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 ➜
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https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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☆*: .｡. 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
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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

Midsommer – Township Rebellion, Roemisch
Rave – Sam Paganini
Invasion – Anunnakis
Power – Maksim Dark
Shake the Nation Carl Cox, Riva Star, Hyperloop
November – Twonship Rebellion
Shadoes – Roddy Lima
My Culture – Ozbek, Zafer Alabey
Crystal Sky – Heerhorst, Peter Pahn
Temple – Gaga, Mateol

technorama Vol 43 (Peak-Time-Techno)

Music video : https://youtu.be/FlnCfGS7dAA

Hard techno + schranz surge—peak‑time energy and hypnotic groove collide.
Warehouse‑ready: acid flashes, industrial grit, rolling bass, 4AM tension.
Cinematic rave trip—hardgroove swing and laser‑edged kicks all the way.

Stream / download / buy ➜
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https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
(❁´◡`❁)
https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
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The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
I. The Valley of Needles and Nebulae

The valley did not possess a sky so much as it wore one—like a mantle stitched from night and fossilized lightning. There, mountains grew as spirals, unfurling like ammonites that had learned the grammar of distance. Between them unrolled a plain of obsidian grass, each blade the height of a knight’s fingerbone and sharp enough to cut a breeze. Among the grass rose gardens of mushrooms whose caps glowed with psilocybin‑cool luminescence, swelling and shrinking as though the land itself were breathing. The air shimmered with prismatic latticework, the kind of crystalline geometry the old mages called LSD frost: not a substance, but a behavior of space when it remembered how to speak in angles.

From the far lip of the valley, a figure descended—tall, limber, and jointed like a cathedral. A crown of thornlike antlers curved from their brow, clear as frozen starlight. The skin beneath was night poured over basalt, veined with faint mycelial fire. Their eyes were two small nebulae, each laced with silent storms. This was Veyra of the Hollow Constellations, Thornbearer‑designate, though no coronation had yet bound the title to their name.

Veyra’s cloak whispered as it moved, stitched from comet dust and the lensing of gravity. Around Veyra’s ankles flowed a low tide of spores, soft as fog. They did not carry weapons. What lay ahead was not a war but an agreement older than war—older, some said, than the first thought the universe ever had about edge and center.

The valley’s gate was a living thing grown of stone and hyphae. It woke as Veyra approached, its arch unfurling in segments like a thornless jaw. Runes climbed across its face, rearranging themselves as if embarrassed by old spelling mistakes. Beneath the arch the air deepened to a dream. Veyra placed a palm against the gate and felt it taste the lines of their hand: the cool curiosity of limestone, the slow joy of mycelium, the seriousness of granite. The gate found Veyra true. It opened enough for a sun to pass, though only starlight slipped through.

Beyond the gate there was a bridge, but not one that any empire would have built. It spiraled upward—an amber helix woven from fossil light and the memory of insect wings. A hundred lantern moths, their bodies written from pale green fire, whirled around the helix and painted the air with script. Each swoop left a calligraphic ribbon that fluttered for a heartbeat before folding itself into the next ribbon, until the whole sky seemed to write a single, never‑ending word.

Veyra set a foot upon the helix. The bridge understood and answered in geometry. Every step translated weight into letters; every letter bent the helix half a degree toward the heart of an unseen star.

Above the valley’s slow breathing, the firmament gathered into a bowl. The stars were close—so close that a patient hand might stroke their bark. 

Continues on the website.


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Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
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https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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https://grasspatchbum.com/
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Support the tunes:
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#techno  #hardtechno  #schranz  #hardgroove #acidtechno  #industrialtechno  #peaktimetechno  #neorave  #warehouse  #aimusicvideo

Thornstar Coronation ~ Video on Youtube

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 ➜
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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.


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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

"Momentum 2025“ ist ein druckvoller Peak-Time-Techno-Track, gebaut für die späten Stunden eines vollgepackten Warehouses. Treibende 136 BPM, eine harte, analog geschichtete Kick und eine rollende Bassline formen das Fundament. Die drei-notige Lead-Hook sorgt für sofortigen Wiedererkennungswert und entfaltet sich besonders während der beiden großen Festival-Drops.
Der Breakdown öffnet einen weiten, düsteren Raum mit tiefen Reverb-Schwaden, bevor der Track erneut explodiert und den Dancefloor mit maximaler Energie auflädt. Metallische Percussion, modulierende Synth-Bewegungen und eine polierte, aber aggressive Mischung machen „Momentum 2025“ zu einem kompromisslosen Peak-Time-Monster im modernen Techno-Sound.

Momentum 2025

Music Video : https://youtu.be/NpjYHjo6P3I

Get lost in a dark, hypnotic techno realm where dawn rises upside down.
Peak time techno meets psychedelic fantasy in a story‑driven visual trip.
Hypnotic warehouse rhythms, glowing mushroom worlds and inverted sunrise.

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


The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
I. The Dusk That Would Not End

The world of Lurith had forgotten what a sunrise looked like.

For ages uncounted, the sky had been a permanent twilight: a bruised gradient of violet and deep indigo, stitched with slow‑moving nebulae and drifting mushroom constellations. Towering fungal forests grew from floating islands of stone, their caps shimmering with bioluminescent glyphs that crawled like living script. Rivers of pale light flowed upward instead of down, vanishing into the dark clouds.

In this dusk‑locked realm walked Aelthren.

Aelthren was not human—no such thing existed in Lurith. Their body was tall and slender, woven from translucent, opalescent fibers like spun moonlight. Beneath their skin, strands of softly glowing mycelium pulsed in slow patterns, tracing a living constellation through their limbs and chest. Where a face should have been, there was an ever‑shifting mask of geometry: triangles and hexagons sliding over one another, forming eyes of amber light, a mouth when speech was needed, then dissolving back into fractal stillness.

From their shoulders sprouted two sweeping crests of crystal feathers, thin as glass and tinted with faint psychedelic colors—pink like a thinking cloud, green like the reflection of an emerald forest in moving water. When Aelthren moved, the feathers chimed faintly, and spores of glittering dust drifted from their edges, curling through the air like lazy comets.

They wandered the Dusklands with a single memory carved into their mind: a rumor, passed in flickers of thought from luminous beast to drifting spirit.

Somewhere, hidden beyond the ordinary folds of Lurith, there was a place called the Chamber of Inverted Dawn—a chamber where sunrise did not break over the horizon, but fell inward, like water pouring into a well. It was said that the last true dawn had been caught there, turned inside out, and the world had stayed twilight ever since.

Aelthren did not know why the memory remained when others had been erased, but whenever they closed their eyes, they saw it: a vast vault of stone, the sky on its floor, and a sun rising downward.

So they walked, and the Dusklands watched.

II. The Procession of Fractal Beasts

On the thirty‑third night‑that‑was‑not‑night, the sky changed.

Three mirror comets tore through the twilight, leaving behind tails of liquid chrome that dripped in slow motion across the vault of the world. Each comet was a faceted tetrahedron, its surface etched in tiny, precise symbols like the notes of an impossibly complex equation. Where their trails intersected, a sigil formed—a blazing glyph in the clouds shaped like a circle pierced by a downward arrow.

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

Chamber of Inverted Dawn -|- Music Video @ YouTube

Discover the Way, what electronic Music is!  If you like my mixes, I would be happy if you supported me as a follower on www.twitch.com/dj_nordic

Techno DJ/Performer from Munich 🇩🇪
Check out my LinkTree to See all of my Work
👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

Born in DarkVoids. Called by the Echoes of Sound.

Booking: nightmaretechno01@gmail.com or via DM on Instagram
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nightmare_techno/
My Techno Sets on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTphrAB7m2IGOaRfUWgzFfSP1f-6KMm5V

Head of BRB Digital
All releases on Bandcamp: https://benjaminstahl.bandcamp.com/
More infos: https://linktr.ee/benjaminstahl
Fanpage: https://www.facebook.com/benjamin.stahl.offical

COMPOSER, LIVE PERFORMER, VISUAL ARTIST -   Female:Pressure - We are Equals / British Council Europe - MUTEK  / Stansa / JOP Record 
Style: Live Performance, Installations, Soundscape, Experimental Electronics & Circuit Bending, Live A/V, Techno, IDM, Ambient, Downtempo.
Personal experimentation as a learning method.
Millimetric study of rhythm and its manipulation possibilities to influence moods.
Deep research in abandoned and desolate soundscapes that evocate  "solar" activity at the most unexpected moment, reflected by the rhythmic patterns immersed in watery Fx and other rough moments such as solidified lava into the sea.
Robust and defined low frequencies give strength to a peculiar structure, so that the listener comfortably advine to the proposed melodies. Bring the audience to participate in what it hears.
Sleek, Spacey, Syncopated Sounds & Downtempo.
An emotional journey, pills of melodies, noises and techno drums."
KØMMEN
Sound produced by Tea Guarascio
© all rights reserved 2025
Booking: info@teaguarascio.net

Artworks & Photography by Tea Guarascio

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.

Hockenheim, 50 Jahre jung und kein bisschen leise. Begonnen mit 8 Jahren in Sachen Musik. Seither mache ich begeistert Musik. Ich erinnere mich an die frühen anfänge als Computer Populär wurden. Viel Reproduziert mit Samplern .. und viel Arbeit hineingesteckt in die gute alte Amiga Technik um was vernünftiges heraus zu bekommen. Dann ging es los mit Cubase, hei ei ei, was hat man da geflucht weil nichts klappte wie es sollte ... aber man gewöhnt sich an alles ... Ich Liebe es Texte zu schreiben, ich Liebe es mir Gedanken darüber zu machen, was oder wie kann man einen Song interessant machen, was steckt hinter dem Text. Ich habe noch unzählige Titel auf Lager und mein Traum ist es ein Album mit meinen selbst geschriebenen Songs auf Spotify und wie Sie alle heißen zu Platzieren. Meine Musikrichtung ist vielfältig. Von Rock bis Rap ... von Rap über Balladen.. und von dort zu Techno wie Techno-House... House .. Hardstyle usw. Ich Liebe einfach Musik und nichts, aber auch nichts lässt uns mehr in Erinnerungen schwelgen als Musik. Wir hören heute ein Lied, das vielleicht vor 20 Jahren Modern war und voll im Trend und wir verbinden es sofort mit schönen aber auch schlechten Erinnerungen. Musik ist Prägend und mein lang anhaltendes Hobby... Zeitgeist2002 entstand schon im Jahre 2002, deshalb steht dieses Jahreszahl in meinem Künstlername. Seit 2002 nutze ich diesen Namen.

New tracks tagged #Peak-Time-Techno