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.

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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.
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Dark melodic techno + trippy sci‑fi visuals = your new late‑night obsession.
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Ember‑Step Eclipse
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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.

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

Ember Step Eclipse

Warehouse basslines meet deep‑space psychedelia—turn it up in 4K.
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Fungal Throne Ascension
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#melodictechno #darktechno #psychedelictechno #4Kvisualizer #psytrance #cosmicrave
#scifimusic #futurerave #cyberpunkbeats #spacevisuals #deepbass #cinematictechno
#mushroomvisuals #dmttrip #galaxyvibes #trippyvideo #electronicmusic #techno2025
#undergroundrave #bassheavy #hypnoticgroove #deeptech #visualjourney #neonfungi
#spacerave #synthwave #stellarbeats #visualstorytelling #nightdrive #cosmicjourney 
#fungalthroneascension #mushroomriddim #fantasytechno #scifisoundtrack
#psyvisuals #alienbass #etherealbeats #spaceodyssey2025 #dreamrave #galacticgroove
#electronicjourney #nightfallmix #trancefusion #bassodyssey #hyperspaceaudio
#stellarodyssey #epicbuilds #deepdrone #voidculture #nebularhythm
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I. The Map of Breathing Glass
Long before the drift-ships learned to skim the chromatic winds of deep space, rumor spoke of an obsidian moon called Kaleidra, a place where fungi rose like cathedrals and thoughts could sprout into matter. Most travelers dismissed the tale as hallucinogenic folklore—until Zai Thornwell, cartographer of the uncharted, found a half-melted star-map in the wreck of an ancient scout pod. The map pulsed like a wounded heart, each beat projecting fractal constellations across its cracked surface. One glyph glimmered brighter than the rest: a pair of entwined blossoms enclosed in a ring of static.

Guided by that flicker, Zai piloted the single-seat skiff Eventide into Kaleidra’s ink-black orbit. The moon greeted visitors with silence, but its silence breathed. Glassy shards hovered in the sky—suspended debris from some forgotten cataclysm—singing faint chimes as solar wind threaded through them. When Zai stepped onto the jagged surface, the shards vibrated harder, reflecting impossible stars. Each reflection pointed the same way, as though the moon itself urged the cartographer forward.

Fungal Throne Ascension

Drops of Synth

[Destination to REVOLUTION] Dark-Techno 2025-142Bpm

Warehouse‑grade hard techno—bioluminal, hypnotic, relentless. Enter the helix.
Fast, industrial, trippy—ride the bioluminal hard techno corridor.
Peak‑time energy, rumble bass, zero mercy. Step into the Oracle.
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Neo rave sci‑fi visuals with ruthless hard techno drive.
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Helix of the Bioluminal Oracle
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Trippy Music Video : https://youtu.be/aI_Gb7lvwUs
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The Story
Prologue — The Color That Learns Your Name

On the far side of a drowned continent, a river of mirror-liquid runs uphill into the clouds. It threads a trench through the sky and vanishes into an angle no map allows—an ongoing mistake in the geometry of weather. Locals call it the Chromatic Torrent. At night, it sheds feathers of light that fall like snow and melt into color without leaving the ground wet.

The courier arrives alone: a silhouette wrapped in a midnight coat that collects stray glints like rain. Their skiff waits behind them, folded to a blade of light under the quay, ribs ticking softly as if remembering the ocean. The courier closes a hand around a coin of pale fire and the coin grows lighter, as if it recognizes the palm. It is a permit and a promise, a round door that fits any lock that isn’t made of metal.

The wind smells of iron and cloves and wet stone. Above, the Torrent leans out of the sky like a muscle flexing, then loosens, then flexes again. Color runs within it in shifting lanes: indigo, teal, a little magenta heat, turned by some gravity that doesn’t belong to the world.

To the east: a forest of mushroom pylons rises from salt fog, the caps broad as amphitheaters, the stems braided with cables of living hyphae that carry light as if it were water. In that forest stands the one the courier has come to find: the Bioluminal Oracle, the ancient humanoid mushroom tree. It is older than the city, which is older than the sky in its current mood. When it moves—slow, slower—the fog reads the gesture and translates it into attention. The courier breathes once to count their ribs, then starts walking.

No one walks out to the Torrent without first speaking to the Oracle. If you try, the river will look away. That is how people drown in dry air.

I — City Quay, and a Coin That Warms Like a Small Moon

Boardwalks hold to the shore with brass teeth; underfoot, gullies of shadow. Traders have packed away their night markets, leaving the quay smelling of smoked kelp and engine perfume. The courier slides between shuttered kiosks until the buildings thin and the quay becomes a tongue of basalt licking the fog.

The coin grows warm, and with it, the world clarifies. On the basalt, faint as breath on glass, a lattice of DMT filament unfurls, lines intersecting in patient thirty-degree rhymes, leading east toward the mushroom pylons. Each joint glows like a pinprick star. When the courier steps on the lattice, the lines brighten. There is no sound, yet the bones of the quay vibrate minimally, as if acknowledging a password.

A shape crosses above—no bird, not a craft. A figure made of ovals of light connected by corridors, a strolling bureau of weather examining its paperwork. The courier keeps moving.

They do not carry weapons. There’s nothing to fight out here that knows what a weapon is.

Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/08/15/helix-of-the-bioluminal-oracle/

#techno   #hardtechno  #schranz    #industrialtechno  #neorave  #warehousetechno  #undergroundrave  #peaktimetechno  #aivisuals

Helix of the Bioluminal Oracle - Enter the Oracle @ YouTube

Saturday bangers babay!
A little psychedelia for yah peepers my peoples! 😘💚
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Neo rave sci‑fi visuals with ruthless hard techno drive.
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Helix of the Bioluminal Oracle
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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

Hard techno warehouse energy—drop in now and ride the storm.
Peak‑time kicks, industrial grit—enter the tunnel.
Acid‑laced hard techno for the 4AM warehouse.
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Neo rave sci‑fi visuals with ruthless hard techno drive.
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Helix of the Bioluminal Oracle
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The Story
The plain was made of black salt, a horizon of matte crystals that swallowed reflections instead of returning them. Above it hung a sky the color of cooled iron. Nothing moved, not the thin grasses fossilized in place, not the distant ribs of petrified cactus, not the oval shadows that pooled where there should have been light. The air felt thick—like a held note, like a thought someone forgot to finish.

Out of that heldness, a figure stepped.

They were not armored or robed. They carried no tools, only a glass seed cupped in both hands, small enough to hide in a fist, heavy enough to pull the shoulders down. The seed was not luminous, but light noticed it; beams bent when it passed. The traveler steadied their breath until it matched the inaudible pulse threading through the ground. When they looked up, the horizon turned by a fraction, just enough to show that all horizons here were part of a wheel.

The wheel’s center was nowhere and everywhere, but its rim—the path—ran straight ahead. The traveler started walking.

Out past the fifth step, the salt exhaled spores that did not rise or fall. They hung, counting each other, arranging themselves into a body: a lank, cathedral-shouldered mushroom being with gills inscribed in teal. Its shadow formed before its cap; then its stem curled up from the shadow’s edge, a reversed sprout. The gills flexed, and stenciled onto the air between them appeared a silent string of equations shaped like vines.

The traveler paused without fear. The equations were invitations.

The mushroom lifted its arm. Halfway through the gesture, the arm became a cactus rib, green lacquer with glints of trapped suns. The rib arched overhead and, with a soft click of geometry, multiplied into a corridor: rib upon rib, an arcade of living anatomy, each curve fitted to the next by joints that whispered when they turned. Salt slipped out of salt, forming steps that did not look like steps until the traveler placed a foot on them and the ground agreed.

A corridor of ribs and spores opened toward a darkness that was not night, and the traveler crossed the threshold.

Beneath the ribs, the air acquired weight. Droplets formed on the cactus skin and beaded, each bead holding a world full of tiny weather. Where the beads grazed one another, prisms were born—micro-faceted insects that hummed without sound and flew in quivering constellations. Columnar forms extruded from the salt like glass trees, branches interlocking in a scaffold of perfect errors. Between branches, filaments stretched into a lattice, a graph of choices the traveler hadn’t made yet.

In the prisms, the traveler’s reflection wore a dozen futures. In some, the seed had already been planted; in others, the seed was a piercing and the sky was stitched to their skin. In one, there was no traveler at all, only the seed rolling like a planet where the ribs met the plain.

Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/08/18/mercury-river-protocol/

#techno #technomusic #hardtechno  #neorave  #industrialtechno  #warehouserave  #peaktime  #acidtechno  #undergroundtechno  #4kvisuals

Mercury River Protocol - Psy Visuals on YouTube

STILLSTOMPSTADIUM-D.Edwards

More Dark Techno:

[NOISE GARDEN]Edition: https://soundcloud.com/djdedwards/noise-garden

[METAL'SCRAP]Edition: https://soundcloud.com/djdedwards/dark-techno-metalscrap

[HeXXAGon]Edition: https://soundcloud.com/djdedwards/techno-hexxagon

:DRK TECHNO PLAYLIST:
https://soundcloud.com/djdedwards/sets/dark

Dark Techno : [STILLSTOMPSTADIUM]

Warehouse‑grade hard techno pressure; peak‑time energy, hypnotic drive.
Schranz edge at 136 BPM—rolling subs, iron kicks, relentless momentum.
Peak‑time assault; raw, deep & hypnotic textures collide.
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Underground tunnel energy—driving techno for maximum lift.
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White Field Aperture
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The Story
1 — Threshold: The Mirror That Drinks the Sky

The desert had learned how to be quiet. Black salt dunes laid their scales to the horizon; the wind went around them like a respectful rumor. I walked until the ground lost the habit of footprints and turned to mirror—not glass, not water, something that behaved like both until you asked it to choose. When I touched it, my fingers sank into a ketamine hush, the temperature of a held breath. The sky above me slipped downward, pooling at my feet, and the mirror took the sun into itself as easily as a coin into a sleeve.

“State your vector,” said a voice with the pleasant bluntness of machinery that also dreams.

I looked up. The ship had been a shimmer in peripheral vision; now it chose to exist. Ribs of spore-glass unfurled like the gills of an enormous bioluminescent mushroom, a vessel grown rather than built. Patterns pulsed beneath its skin—teal and cobalt, the color logic of an ocean that had never seen water. On its prow: a thin seam of light, smiling.

“Inside,” the ship said, as if there were no other sensible direction. “Name me and we’ll move.”

“If I name you, do you become true?” I asked.

“Everything is already true,” it replied. “Names are just handles to carry it by.”

I touched the seam and said, “Aperture.” The word fit its hull the way a right word fits a wrong silence. The mirror accepted our weight as if we were a memory returning to where it had been recorded. The world tipped, rotated—not falling but refracting—and the desert’s heat turned to the cool inner-weather of deep caves.

The hull closed around me, a cathedral grown from hyphae and patience. Filaments stitched the air with soft LSD confetti, each mote a syllable of a grammar only light can speak. Somewhere in the Aperture’s frame, a heartbeat began—mechanical and patient, the kind of rhythm you trust without deciding to.

“Destination?” the ship asked.

“Forward,” I said, and the mirror drank us whole.

2 — Corridor of Peyote Suns

Forward was a river of mercury that couldn’t decide between surface and volume. It braided under a ceiling of peyote suns, each one a hex of luminous scars that re-inked themselves as you watched. Desert bones turned to architecture: arches of white stone that remembered having been whale ribs. We slid beneath them like a secret trying to become a law.

Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/08/19/white-field-aperture/

#techno  #technomusic  #hardtechno  #schranz  #industrialtechno  #warehousetechno  #peaktimetechno  #undergroundtechno  #rave  #visualizer

White Field Aperture - Psy Music Video @ YouTube

Recorded live at HYDRA, a raw underground gathering near Kaunas, Lithuania. An intense journey through techno, electro and breakbeat — dark, hypnotic and restless, shaped by the forest and the energy of the night.

foto by Alina Pasiuk

HYDRA set 2025-08-23

Samsara Glitch — 7:12 — 136.0 BPM — D minor (7A)

Accelerated groove with a mean mid-range grind. Linear rise, percussive switch-ups, and a center stretch built to flip a floor from focus to frenzy without theatrics.

For DJs: peak-time engine; works in the 134–138 corridor; phrase-clean for doubles and pressure rides.

“From 2:53 it goes crazy… a 7-minute track that plays like an hour-long mix. I love it!” — Nastya Muravyova

Credits/usage: Written & produced in Berlin. 
From EP1 / Extended Player One. 

Lossless/WAV on request. 

If you play it, please drop a timestamp/clip.





人 Sansara Glitch — 7:11 of evolving, fractured techno ritual.
A journey where cyclical rhythm meets digital imperfection: looping like the wheel of saṃsāra, cracking open with glitches that distort and renew. Heavy low-end drives the body forward, while spectral textures flicker like half-remembered dreams.

This is a track for late hours and dark rooms — where repetition becomes meditation, and every glitch is a portal.

#Techno #Glitch #Hypnotic #Ritual #Berlin

HITORIN - Sansara Glitch

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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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.


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

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

The Abyss (Final Form)

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 :)

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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

Music video : https://youtu.be/fV8jBmirnjM

Peak-time pressure meets cosmic ship cove voyage — a 3D techno odyssey.
Melodic shadows + industrial grit = peak-time visual ignition.
Ship Gaze Phantom — Progressive Techno | Cinematic Warehouse Voyage
Boats boats and more boats!

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


The Story ➜
No story, just a healthy obsession with boats :)

Key frames 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


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

Ship Gaze Phantom | A Cinematic Music 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
☆*: .｡. 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

Exploring wonderfully bizarro melodies cling to crisped percussion, all shrouded in a smokey blanket of saturation. Haunting basslines, exotic resonance howls, sludgy synths drowning in the umbra, diabolical carnival organs, and stygian vocals. Downtempo breakbeats.
Collecting digital and cassettes.

DJ stuff and field recording compositions

Hi! 

My name to a few is well known but to the lot of you remains unknown.

Over the course of 15+ years (and ongoing) i have been able to harness and utilize my skills in composing/producing making me a self taught producer located in the Netherlands.

Useless info:
My go to genre's are Techno / Tech-Trance / Progressive-House

人 Vinyl-only DJ sets. Boundary-breaking techno productions.

Berlin’s underground, filtered through a journalist’s precision, an entrepreneur’s vision, and an activist’s fire.
On decks, Valentin Hitorin spins hypnotic, groove-driven journeys cut from rare wax. In the studio, he channels chaos into sharp, evolving soundscapes built for the floor.
Living and creating with a mental disability, he turns personal survival into collective ritual—music as both defiance and communion.
Follow for deep cuts, unorthodox textures, and techno that refuses to lie ⩖

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

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

Website or Instagram for booking.

Need change - going harder.

Techno, Trance, Psytech, Psytrance, and other liquid psychedelic music is where I'm the happiest but I do love a lot of Latin, Tribal, Lofi, Chillhop so occasionally I'll release something off-beat.

------ Past-Tense Shenanigans ------

Born in the dust-filled vibes of a ‘90s apartment, Grass Patch Bum started spinning records back when vinyl was king and internet cafes were revolutionary. Armed with a crate of vinyl, Grass Patch Bum dived headfirst into underground raves and sweaty house parties, learning the art of blending beats on turntables and (eventually) the "futuristic" CDJs. But the journey didn't stop there.

After taking a hiatus to dive into the world of FL Studio and dissect the mechanics of production, Grass Patch Bum came back stronger, with a repertoire of original sounds and the technical chops to match. Fast forward, and they've turned dancefloors upside down from Thailand to Vietnam, Bali to the heart of Europe. Now, powered by Ableton Live and a creative arsenal that refuses to stay in one genre, Grass Patch Bum weaves sonic journeys that blend groove, grit, and just a sprinkle of nostalgia for the good ol' days.

Catch him live for a taste of nostalgia, modern beats, Latin grooves, electronic melodies, and a wide range of liquid sounds. Whether it's a tropical beach in Thailand or an underground club in Berlin, Grass Patch Bum brings thems booty movements like no other.

Delivering a wide range of Multi-genres & sound for years across live  sets-productions-mixes-shows & podcasts. 

Mixing at festivals, in the clubs&pubs world round. Broadcasting through stations, radioshows, guest mixes or jamin in the space. Built and branded with the spin of blending all sorts of genres into the sound. That striving deep passion for music, hopes to take you on a journey through music, from all of its sounds from all of its styles. 

House-World-Ambient-Latin-Electro Swing - 
Dark Techno-Tech House- Latin House-CumbiaHouse/ HardTechno-Downtempo-Trance-Electro-Drum & Bass-Progressive-Experimental-Tyro-DJ-
Loop Machine-TechPad-Instrumentation-

For all the electronic music lovers, Take a trip through catch some electronic & world music with a unique spin on DJ'ing as a whole.. or so I'd say. 


SOUNDS OF OMINATION/CAN/
:DM for booking inquiries:

New tracks tagged #dark-techno