Jonas Felden - 30.04. - Tanz in den Mai @soku

First attempt at an 8K music video. If it's not showing up in 8k, that's because I read it takes a while to process 8k videos.

Peak‑time energy meets cosmic calm—ride this melodic techno odyssey.

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Stream / download / buy ➜
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https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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https://youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
ᓚᘏᗢ


The Story ➜
1 — Arrival: The Observatory that Breathes

The observatory didn’t sit on the planet so much as the planet grew around it, like a pearl grown from a grain of math. From space it was a pewter iris set in a black-salt desert. Up close, it was alive: the walls breathed, exhaling faint motes that glowed teal before dissolving into the heat.

The traveler reached the threshold at nightfall—though night here meant a subtler dimness rather than absence of light. They were called Quen, or perhaps they had chosen that name because it sounded like a question. Cloak drawn against the cold, boots whispering over mirror-smooth stone, Quen paused beneath the arch. The arch was ribbed like the underside of a mushroom cap, gilled with bioluminescence, damp with ancient condensation. The place had the hush of a cathedral and the throat-clearing hum of machinery waking from a long reconsideration.

“Authorization?” asked a voice that didn’t quite use sound.

Quen let the question hang. The observatory’s throat worked, swallowing some old echo. A thin disc of light rolled down the arch, took one lazy lap around Quen’s boots, and wobbled upright like a coin deciding whether to fall.

“Navigator,” Quen said, finally. “Cartography corps. Voluntary.”

“Voluntary,” the voice repeated, as if tasting the word for its mineral content. “Then step in, and let the engine look at you.”

Inside, corridors radiated from a central well whose surface held a patient mirror of stars. But the stars rearranged themselves when Quen approached, as if the sky engine beneath the observatory preferred to work from its own memories instead of tonight’s weather. The air smelled faintly of iron and cedar; somewhere water trickled, but it couldn’t be seen. The mirror showed a constellation Quen didn’t recognize: a lacework of hexagons threaded by gold, humming between choices.

They walked until the corridor narrowed and the light gathered into an alcove. The alcove held what passed here for a reliquary: a coin of light, half-embedded in the wall. When Quen reached for it, the coin slid free and hovered over their palm, precessing slowly. Its face had no inscription. Its edge was impossibly sharp.

“Ephemeris,” the voice said—no, not the voice: the engine itself, speaking through vibration, a bass line felt along the bones. “Not a prophecy, not a command. A schedule of where the possible intends to be.”

Quen had come for that schedule. People told different stories about why. Some said Quen wanted to find a world that had been mislaid by history—a planet erased when a war needed a place to hide a mistake. Some said Quen had lost someone. Some said both were the same story, depending on how you rotated the map.

Quen closed fingers around the coin. It stayed warm in the glove, pulsing in time with the engine’s hum. “Show me the path that arrives,” Quen said. “Not the path that repeats.”

The observatory’s ribs flexed and sighed. The mirror-well brightened. Far below, something turned—a mandala as big as a city, as elegant as a seed.

The engine began to open.

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/
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Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno  #8kvideo   #musicvideo   #trippyvisuals   #technomusic   #visualizer   #undergroundtechno   #musicvisualizer   #melodictechno   #8kvisuals  #8kvideosong  #8kvideoultrahd

Ephemeris of the Sky Engine }|{ Psychedelic 8K Music Video on 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
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

Rosette Mirror Test - 8K Psy Video on Youtube

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

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.

New tracks tagged #cosmic-techno