3. It Won't Stop

Betoko
https://open.spotify.com/artist/48aaubPa3RsbAp4uCPhoS7
https://www.beatport.com/artist/betoko/38372
https://www.facebook.com/betokoofficial/
https://twitter.com/Betoko
https://www.instagram.com/betokouk
https://soundcloud.com/betoko
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4TW-jNPllktUdzJVURoXjQ
https://www.twitch.tv/betokouk

OKO Recordings
https://www.facebook.com/okorecordings/
https://soundcloud.com/okorecordings
https://www.beatport.com/label/oko-recordings/12507

Magnetizm - Things we do (OKO Recordings) OUT NOW!

Magnetizm - Magic Keys Feat Realism (OKO Recordings) OUT NOW!

LOS PIBES DEL #CLASSY w/ Rola!

Once again IDiot & Betoko join forces for some tracks on this new EP this, completely experimental and different from what they normally produce... Hence... Sketches Enjoy the music! ID

Betoko
https://open.spotify.com/artist/48aaubPa3RsbAp4uCPhoS7
https://www.beatport.com/artist/betoko/38372
https://www.facebook.com/betokoofficial/
https://twitter.com/Betoko
https://www.instagram.com/betokouk
https://soundcloud.com/betoko
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4TW-jNPllktUdzJVURoXjQ
https://www.twitch.tv/betokouk

IDiot Electronic & Betoko - Found My answer (IDiot Electronic) OUT NOW!

IDiot Electronic & Betoko - The end of the world (IDiot Electronic) OUT NOW!



In 2005, Bohrbug—an experimental electronics underground artist known for his obscure and boundary-pushing soundscapes and beats—was challenged by friends to step out of his comfort zone. They urged him to create a “classy Techno EP,” yearning for a taste of the refined, structured beats that defined the genre’s elite. Reluctant but intrigued, Bohrbug embarked on this new venture, channeling his experimental spirit into a project that would later become a defining yet overlooked gem in his discography.

The result was an EP released with little fanfare on the obscure label "Stekker", shrouded in silence and absent of any promotional push. It vanished into the ether, unheralded and forgotten—until, after over a decade of dormancy, it resurfaced. DJs and music enthusiasts within the realm of classy, refined Techno began to take notice, championing tracks that had lain dormant for years. This once-ignored project was reborn as a hidden gem, its unique blend of experimental electronics and Techno precision resonating with those who sought something both familiar and forward-thinking.

Now, for the first time digitally remastered by the composer himself, Dago Sondervan, this track is reborn anew. The process has preserved the original essence while breathing fresh life into its sonic fabric, ensuring that Bohrbug’s vision endures for future generations to discover. This is not just a remaster; it’s a testament to the power of patience and the enduring allure of music that defies categories, transcending time itself.


Macadam 2025 remaster

It would have been yet just another Fall. But, (wait for it!...) it wasn’t. 
I wish I took you by the hand, and off we walk towards the down of the imaginary cobblestones of… Here seems I’ve stumbled for a bit. Wait, was it London? Edinburgh? It is obviously there, but not as ‘being there’. It was the darkness of the city night, that clearly I remember. The Darkest hours, passed out, possessed and taken by the fear of being uncovered, shelled to the concrete and bare ground. 
And there was some old lake, the banks were steep, the bench was all that high, the waters still and, maybe, deep. If, say, shall we consider fighting on the beaches. Alas, reluctance is that childish trick — to face reality, to hide behind a cupboard, imaginary cluttered, clinched, clichéd.
 
It might have been the very birth of Autumn. 
But wasn’t it the time, when things just fallen down on you, poor you, shrugged-shabby, semi-conscious. As if your ragged mom just splash-ejected you, ejaculating in the outer-void against the prickly-spiky-thorny manger — asphalt, cross-spitted fishy floor (God bless!...), some market, on some dark November morning. Poor you, oh, Lord thee Prickly-Spiky-Thorny — your tea shall be arriving any moment, if you please! 

It might have been all topsy-turvydom, oh lucky you, but it completely wasn’t. 
Instead it was… Or was it silence for a half an hour in sleepy, tidy heaven? 
(your tea and papers just arrived, Your Lordship, mind you crack the seal?). 
Was it the garage sale of seven broken trumpets, fridge magnets and the ancient brazen censers. A pretty gentleman, one Eleazar The Priest. Tweed, toady-tight, who cufflinks wore to dinner.

And there was She, this story’s all about her. 
In quiet radiance, still holding breath, my narratives untold. I wish I’d be a blackbird, not the Prickly-Spiky, self-appointed lord. I’d follow her to very distant shores. I’d be her pet, her drunken sailor, fridge magnet. Her whimsical but own and gentle wag. Hold! Not to breeze, just keep the visions glowing, lighten my path, whispering that ancient lore.
I wish I’d relish jelly-drunken nights right from her toe, until the day I’d be no more. 

It’s definitely the spark of yet another, this time, final journey. Come, step aboard, my Majesty and, please, enjoy the ride. Can’t wait to see our destiny — coiled in the early light, unfurling grace and banner, paw-in-paw, look, isn’t it all a sheer delight?         
Strung taut with quiet, almost palpable desire to break the stillness, 
    rise with winds, 
        sky is the limit

In Love’s Quiet Radiance: Unfurling Grace

It would have been yet just another Fall. But, (wait for it!...) it wasn’t. 
I wish I took you by the hand, and off we walk towards the down of the imaginary cobblestones of… Here seems I’ve stumbled for a bit. Wait, was it London? Edinburgh? It is obviously there, but not as ‘being there’. It was the darkness of the city night, that clearly I remember. The Darkest hours, passed out, possessed and taken by the fear of being uncovered, shelled to the concrete and bare ground. 
And there was some old lake, the banks were steep, the bench was all that high, the waters still and, maybe, deep. If, say, shall we consider fighting on the beaches. Alas, reluctance is that childish trick — to face reality, to hide behind a cupboard, imaginary cluttered, clinched, clichéd.
 
It might have been the very birth of Autumn. 
But wasn’t it the time, when things just fallen down on you, poor you, shrugged-shabby, semi-conscious. As if your ragged mom just splash-ejected you, ejaculating in the outer-void against the prickly-spiky-thorny manger — asphalt, cross-spitted fishy floor (God bless!...), some market, on some dark November morning. Poor you, oh, Lord thee Prickly-Spiky-Thorny — your tea shall be arriving any moment, if you please! 

It might have been all topsy-turvydom, oh lucky you, but it completely wasn’t. 
Instead it was… Or was it silence for a half an hour in sleepy, tidy heaven? 
(your tea and papers just arrived, Your Lordship, mind you crack the seal?). 
Was it the garage sale of seven broken trumpets, fridge magnets and the ancient brazen censers. A pretty gentleman, one Eleazar The Priest. Tweed, toady-tight, who cufflinks wore to dinner.

And there was She, this story’s all about her. 
In quiet radiance, still holding breath, my narratives untold. I wish I’d be a blackbird, not the Prickly-Spiky, self-appointed lord. I’d follow her to very distant shores. I’d be her pet, her drunken sailor, fridge magnet. Her whimsical but own and gentle wag. Hold! Not to breeze, just keep the visions glowing, lighten my path, whispering that ancient lore.
I wish I’d relish jelly-drunken nights right from her toe, until the day I’d be no more. 

It’s definitely the spark of yet another, this time, final journey. Come, step aboard, my Majesty and, please, enjoy the ride. Can’t wait to see our destiny — coiled in the early light, unfurling grace and banner, paw-in-paw, look, isn’t it all a sheer delight?         
Strung taut with quiet, almost palpable desire to break the stillness, 
    rise with winds, 
           sky is the limit 


In Love’s Quiet Radiance: A Glimpse of Reverie

It would have been yet just another Fall. But, (wait for it!...) it wasn’t. 
I wish I took you by the hand, and off we walk towards the down of the imaginary cobblestones of… Here seems I’ve stumbled for a bit. Wait, was it London? Edinburgh? It is obviously there, but not as ‘being there’. It was the darkness of the city night, that clearly I remember. The Darkest hours, passed out, possessed and taken by the fear of being uncovered, shelled to the concrete and bare ground. 
And there was some old lake, the banks were steep, the bench was all that high, the waters still and, maybe, deep. If, say, shall we consider fighting on the beaches. Alas, reluctance is that childish trick — to face reality, to hide behind a cupboard, imaginary cluttered, clinched, clichéd.
 
It might have been the very birth of Autumn. 
But wasn’t it the time, when things just fallen down on you, poor you, shrugged-shabby, semi-conscious. As if your ragged mom just splash-ejected you, ejaculating in the outer-void against the prickly-spiky-thorny manger — asphalt, cross-spitted fishy floor (God bless!...), some market, on some dark November morning. Poor you, oh, Lord thee Prickly-Spiky-Thorny — your tea shall be arriving any moment, if you please! 

It might have been all topsy-turvydom, oh lucky you, but it completely wasn’t. 
Instead it was… Or was it silence for a half an hour in sleepy, tidy heaven? 
(your tea and papers just arrived, Your Lordship, mind you crack the seal?). 
Was it the garage sale of seven broken trumpets, fridge magnets and the ancient brazen censers. A pretty gentleman, one Eleazar The Priest. Tweed, toady-tight, who cufflinks wore to dinner.

And there was She, this story’s all about her. 
In quiet radiance, still holding breath, my narratives untold. I wish I’d be a blackbird, not the Prickly-Spiky, self-appointed lord. I’d follow her to very distant shores. I’d be her pet, her drunken sailor, fridge magnet. Her whimsical but own and gentle wag. Hold! Not to breeze, just keep the visions glowing, lighten my path, whispering that ancient lore.
I wish I’d relish jelly-drunken nights right from her toe, until the day I’d be no more. 

It’s definitely the spark of yet another, this time, final journey. Come, step aboard, my Majesty and, please, enjoy the ride. Can’t wait to see our destiny — coiled in the early light, unfurling grace and banner, paw-in-paw, look, isn’t it all a sheer delight?         
Strung taut with quiet, almost palpable desire to break the stillness, 
    rise with winds,  
         sky is the limit 


In Love’s Quiet Radiance: A Sovereign Heart

Inspired by renaissance, driven by Celtic and North European cultures, natively belonging to Ukrainian world, I create a musical landscape, which will have all these experiences combined on the new level. My artistic mission is to rejoin Ukrainian aesthetic with great 'Atlantic' cultural cluster.


* Composer

* Violinist of Ukiez alt-folk band 

* UAV test pilot and amateur fireworks delivery helper 

* Scholar and great drinker ©

* Turn on, Tune in – Drop out! :)

London based, Mexican born Betoko is a producer who has quickly risen through the ranks, having drummed in bands and played guitar as a teen, it was here that he discovered a passion for electronic music.
His early releases showed the man to have his own distinctive approach joining the dots between techno, minimal and house music with great style.

With a huge esteemed back catalogue, Betoko regularly picks up support from the worlds finest DJs, whilst his tracks have been licensed for use on TV shows like CSI, a number of advertising campaigns and Madonna’s Sticky N Sweet Tour.
His natural progression and hunger for great new music means Betoko is now the head of his own two labels, OKO Recordings and Chilli
Mint Music both of which release quality dance music on vinyl/digital constantly charted by the top 100 DJs.

Betoko's global hit "Raining Again" released on Diynamic Music has become a classic and was labeled the Track of the Summer in 2012 with more than 20 Million Views on youtube.

Betoko's infectious sounds have been heard at Amnesia, Warung, Green Valley, Space, Fabric, Ushuaia, Kater Holzig, numerous Festivals and pretty much every top club in the world, and has played b2b sets with DJs like Sasha and Nick Warren.

Betoko is based at the world famous Red Bus Recording Studios and is a sponsored artist of Native Instruments, Arturia and Dave Smith Instruments.

Bookings:
Worldwide: mgmt@betoko.com
Mexico: Born in Mexico / Marco Arce / marco@borninmexico.tv

New tracks tagged #classy