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

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The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
I — The Door Beneath the Dark

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

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

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

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

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

II — Gravities Turning

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

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

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

Continues on the website.


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Dunes of the LSD Sun | Cinematic Visual Trip @ YouTube

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

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

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

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

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

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

Continues on the website.


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The Ship That Grew a Forest | Music Video on YouTube

Music video : https://youtu.be/OcXDg9glV04

Peak‑time techno with rolling bass and a trance‑kissed lift.
Hypnotic lines, heavy kick—deep warehouse pressure.
Dark to euphoric in one ascent—driving melodic techno.

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The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
The night forest wore the moon like a needle. Pale light stitched from branch to branch, fastening leaf to leaf, turning dew into a lace of cold fire. Beneath that careful seamwork stood a traveler who was not born but assembled—woven out of comet silk, lark‑black shadow, and the quiet intelligence of mycelium. The traveler’s name was Vaelith, though names here were less like labels and more like roots: buried, drinking deep, feeding leaves farther away than anyone could see.

Vaelith’s eyes were slow spirals of silver, rotating once for yes, twice for no, and three times when questions were too complex for a single answer. A braid of pale moss lay across their shoulder; it pulsed softly, an extra heart given by the understory. From the traveler’s waist hung an oval shard of fused stardust—meteor glass—which warmed whenever a path wanted to be found.

That night the glass began to thrum like a low tide in the bones. The shard lifted, not by string or charm but by fondness, and spread a hairline beam across the leaf litter. The light was thin and precise, like a thread the moon had misplaced and now asked Vaelith to return.

They stepped forward. The mossy braid stirred, tasting the air, and the forest answered by re‑arranging itself with hospitality: roots angled to make steps; mushrooms turned their luminous caps to guide; ferns bowed in a rustle that meant we’ve been expecting you. Distant trunks clicked together the way stones do after speech, and the meteor glass kept humming.

As Vaelith walked, soft lanterns rose—small colonies of caps with gills that glowed a psilocybin blue, then shifted into LSD‑bright filaments that crossed the trail like sutures in living skin. The threads did not tie anything down; they held it in a promise. Overhead, branches met in arcs that had never seen architecture and yet produced it, a natural vault where owls wore masks of DMT‑geometry, feather‑tips repeating the same perfect triangle, smaller and smaller, until the pattern fell inward like a whisper.

A figure waited at the mouth of the first clearing: humanoid in the way a tree is humanoid only when the wind persuades it. Limbs were slender cambium, veneer polished by moonlight. Eyes: two slow pools of resin. Antlers: not antlers, but growing scrolls of polished bark carved by termites into filigree. It bowed with the patience of old rainfall.

“Loom‑kin,” Vaelith said, their voice a weave of low breath and the click of beetle shells. The resin eyes brightened.

“I am Soresyn of the Canopy, tender to the seam that holds this world together,” the being said. “The moon has placed thread in your keeping. Something is unraveling beyond my reach.”

The meteor glass hummed harder. Vaelith lifted it, and inside the shard swam a map that wasn’t a map—not inked lines but living filaments drifting as if underwater. They nudged one, and it laid itself along a path only the forest could see.

“Speak of the unraveling,” Vaelith said.

Continues on the website.


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Threaded by Moon and Moss // Music Video @ YouTube

Techno travels - Nüschk - 21.10.25

Coldplay's sound breadth and richness have deeply moved and inspire us. Our first track had to be this humble and very personal version of this unique and wonderful song. "Midnight."

Coldplay - Midnight (NOYZE ABATEMENT version)

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.

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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.


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Liquid Star Dawn ][ Trippy Video on YouTube

Wenn Maschinen Dampf ablassen.

Stoische Rhythmen, klickende Hi-Hats, subtile Bässe auf trockene Claps – und irgendwo zwischen Loop und Delay ein wunderbar waberndes Klacken, Klicken, Zirpen und Schrillen.

Kontrollierte Eskalation. Kein Drop, kein Schnickschnack – nur Groove.

Klack und Klick

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.

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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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Kaleidoscopic Gatekeepers | Video On YouTube

Steven Cars - Pulsar (Sputyan Remix) Preview

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.

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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.


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Chamber of Inverted Dawn -|- Music Video @ YouTube

Next Dates:
30.10.25 - Broilerroom with Semi;con 
05.12.25 - DJ-Night - Castle Schmalkalden
09.01.26 - Broilerroom with Miss Tentigo & Beene 
24.01.26 - Boulderhalle - Göttingen
xxx 2026 - Rave-Night - Villa K Schmalkalden

Jayrobs Reise durch Klangwelten
----------------------------------
Schon im zarten Alter von sechs Jahren begann Jayrobs musikalische Odyssee – nicht in staubigen Klassenzimmern, sondern im Proberaum des Knabenchors Erfurt. Dort erkannte er erstmals, dass das Leben weit mehr zu bieten hat als Zahlen und Buchstaben – es sind die Noten, diese geheimnisvollen Zeichen, die Emotionen malen, Geschichten erzählen und Herzen bewegen. Von diesem Moment an wurden sie zu seinen treuen Weggefährten.

Nach den ersten Schritten in die Welt des Gesangs öffneten sich weitere Türen: Das Akkordeon-Orchester ließ seine Finger tanzen, das Keyboard folgte seinem Bauchgefühl, und die Schulband gab ihm als Schlagzeuger den ersten echten Bühnenboden unter den Füßen. Doch der wahre Funke sprang 1999 über – entfacht von der Magie nächtlicher Partys und dem hypnotischen Kreisen schwarzer Vinylscheiben. Das Auflegen wurde zu seiner neuen Sprache.

Was mit kleinen Privat-Sessions begann, entwickelte sich bald zu regelmäßigen Gigs in Thüringen und Hessen – von Meiningen bis Bad Salzungen, von Fulda bis zum Freien Radio Kassel. Hier durfte Jayrob seine Liebe zur elektronischen Musik teilen, roh, pur und echt – direkt von der Rille ins Herz des Publikums.

Der Waldschall in Breitungen wurde zu seinem musikalischen Zuhause, Jahr für Jahr. Auch andere Open Airs – Tunnel-Events in Mittelstille, Himmelfahrts-Festivals auf der ehrwürdigen Krayenburg, Veranstaltungen in Meiningen, Kühndorf und Umgebung – wurden Stationen seiner stetig wachsenden Klangreise. Clubs in Thüringen, Hessen und Baden-Württemberg öffneten ihm ihre Tore, und Jayrob brachte seine ganz eigene Interpretation elektronischer Musik auf die Tanzflächen – stets im Austausch mit einem Publikum, das ihm Energie gab und ihn zugleich trug.

Dann – eine Pause. Eine Pause aus Liebe, aus Verantwortung: das Abenteuer Vater sein begann 2013 und stellte die Beats für eine Weile leise. Doch die Musik blieb – als leiser Puls, als stetes Rufen. Und seit rund zwei Jahren ist Jayrob wieder da – lauter, facettenreicher, freier denn je. Ob mit Vinyl oder digital.

Mit seiner eigenen Streaming-Sendung, dem Broiler-Room, sowie Gastauftritten bei Radiosendern und Events rund um und in Schmalkalden hat sich aus der wieder entfachten Glut ein Sturm entwickelt. Einer, dem er sich weder entziehen kann, noch entziehen will. Denn das Leben ist zu kurz, um es nur mit Zahlen und Buchstaben zu füllen – Musik ist sein Weg, sein Ausdruck, seine Sprache.

Und dieser Weg ist noch lange nicht zu Ende.

----------------------------------
Played in the past @:
Waldschall (Resident) 2002 - 2012 - Breitungen
Sängerhügel Open Airs - Fambach
Tunnel Open Airs - Mittelstille
Alte Zuckerfabrik - Laucha
Himmelfahrt Open Air Krayenburg - Tiefenort
Open Air - Flugplatz Kühndorf
Sängerklause Open Air - Immelborn
Fête de la Musique - Meiningen
on air @ Freies Radio - Kassel
on air @ MDR Sputnik Halle (Saale)
on air @ C.A.M. Radio Leipzig
on air @ Radio Leinewelle Göttingen
on air @ Freie Seelen Radio - Breitungen
on air @ Broilerroom Livestream - Schmalkalden
Villa K. - Schmalkalden
Castle - Schmalkalden
Stadtfest - Schmalkalden
BMS Club - Merkers
Grüne Messehalle - Fulda
Eightball - Fulda
WerkZwo - Tann
D-Bar - Trusetal
Abschnitt 18/78 - Wernshausen
Forsthaus - Kissel
Kuckucksnest - Meiningen
Kartbahn - Meiningen
Sudpfanne - Meiningen
Kulturparade - Meiningen
Erdbeermund - Karlsruhe
Kommune2010 - Offenbach
Pressenwerk - Bad Salzungen
KW70 - Bad Salzungen
Kamadu - Bad Salzungen
P35 - Bad Liebenstein
Rosatalhalle - Rosa
Bikerclub - Wasungen
Karneval - Wasungen
Philharmonie - Suhl
Kulturhaus - Jüchsen
Altes Kino - Römhild
Club - Einhausen
Reiterhof - Dörrensolz
Palm Beach - Tiefenort
Turnhalle - Brotterode
Hohe Geba - Meiningen

Groove is the heart, and melody is our soul. Our proposal is far from the ordinary. Atmospheric, deep, melodic techno and house

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.

Web Radio Strasbourgeoise, 24/7.
https://zest.radio/

100% indépendante, z•est est une plateforme de rencontre et de diffusion pour les passionné•es de musique.

Diffusion en direct depuis Strasbourg.

Welcome to Creatus Flow Records

Amplyfing voices that resonate with authenticity and innovation 🎶⚡

Enjoy the Flow! 

    demos to creatusflowdemos@gmail.com

Sorry if we can't respond to everyone, if we are interested in releasing your music we will get back to you within 2 weeks. Thanks!

New tracks tagged #deep-techno