VHV - La Plume Hors Format @2PointZero / 7/03/25

No Bystanders Travis Scott Juice Wrld Mix

NO BYSTANDERS TECHNO MIX TRAVIS SCOTT x CLUB MIX

*b2b/ PART 2 STARTS AT :51 DARK ETHERIA x IHATEMODELS NYC 2025 TECHNO MIX SCHRANZ EDM HARD TECHNO VERKNIPT x AWAKENINGS
IHATEMODELS X AZYR X SARA LANDRY X OGUZ

DARK ETHERIA x IHATEMODELS NYC 2025                *b2b starts @ 51 min*

AWAKENINGS x VERKNIPT 2025 HARD TECHNO SCHRANZ MIX- AZYR x IHATEMODELS x SARA LANDRY x OGUZ 

NYC 2025 TECHNO MIX

AZYR TYPE HARD TECHNO MIX

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.
-
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/aI_Gb7lvwUs
-
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
-

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

Relentless kicks, dark rave pressure—this is a 4AM hard techno weapon.
Underground warehouse vibes: hard techno, fast, raw, unstoppable.
Acid bites, steel drums—peak‑time ignition for the rave.
-
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
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https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
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2025 techno anthem—acid hooks & relentless warehouse drive.
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Serotonin Tundra
-
Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
Trippy Music Video : https://youtu.be/HMy27l9_jN8
-
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
-

I. Letters of Light
The tundra does not begin so much as arrive.

I crossed a ridge of cobalt ice, and the sky opened like a book turning to its first bright page. Lines of aurora braided above me—mint, sakura, electric teal—ribboning into sharp, deliberate strokes, as if some patient hand were writing with light. The wind was not cold. It had the temperature of a held breath, the taste of orange peel and winter.

They had warned me: There is a place where weather remembers how to feel. Go there if you want your moods repaired, or rewritten. The map they gave me was only a single sentence: Follow the serif.

So I did. The aurora’s edges were not vague swirls but exact, knife-graceful curves, the kind a calligrapher draws when they mean every millimeter. I followed as if reading, and the sky punctuated distances with dots of amber stars, the way a sentence grips you with its rhythm until your steps match its meter.

The land below was an ocean rendered in slow motion—waves of violet and indigo snow, frozen mid-crest. From between the drifts rose mushrooms the size of towers, their caps freckled with lantern pores. Light leaked from them in steady breathing, as if the earth itself were practicing calm.

Far off, a silhouette moved: a whale gliding along the seabed of snow as if swimming through density alone. When it surfaced, the surface did not break; the snow accepted its shape and let it pass. Its flanks glimmered with constellations I didn’t recognize.

I spoke without deciding to. “I came to remember how to be happy.”

The whale’s eye turned. It was not human, not even mammalian in any familiar way, and yet something like patience lived there.

The nearest mushroom’s gills trembled, releasing a sigh of bioluminescent dust. Spores drifted up, each a tiny coin of color. When they touched the aurora, letters kindled—angular, clean, and ceremonial. They spelled the tundra’s answer across the sky:

WELCOME, READER.

It made me smile, and it made me feel read.

Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/08/08/serotonin-tundra/

#techno #hardtechno  #peaktime  #industrialtechno  #rave  #warehouse  #acidtechno  #schranz  #hardgroove #underground  #neorave

Serotonin Tundra - Mushroom Visual @ YouTube Music Video

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

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.
-
-
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/dv56pNhrA-c
-
Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
-

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

AWAKENINGS x VERKNIPT 2026 HARD TECHNO SCHRANZ 777ŰŰŰ DEBUT MIX - IHATEMODELS x SARA LANDRY x OGUZ

NYC 2025 TECHNO MIX

AWAKENINGS x VERKNIPT 2026 HARD TECHNO SCHRANZ MIX 777ŰŰŰ - IHATEMODELS x SARA LANDRY x OGUZ

VERKNIPT x AWAKENINGS 2025 HARD TECHNO SCHRANZ MIX- IHATEMODELS x SARA LANDRY x OGUZ x KLANGKUENSTLER

NYC 2025 TECHNO MIX

VERKNIPT x AWAKENINGS 2025 HARD TECHNO SCHRANZ MIX- IHATEMODELS x SARA LANDRY x OGUZ x KLANGKUENSTLER

« Omertà - secrets percés, lignée ouverte. »

Omertà : hybridation ℭoalition / Fané.e, énergie rituelle et noblesse souterraine.

Aplanos x ℭoalition x Fané.e

Aplanos presents « Omertà » - a high-energy neo-rave incantation built on hypnotic grooves, rare edits, and exclusive cuts.
A ritual in motion : trance-forward momentum, immersive soundscapes, and a dark pulse that never loosens its grip.

#anetha #hoymans #aplanos #alchemy #reverberate #fast-techno #neo-trance

Un set médiumnique qui perce les secrets scellés des anciennes lignées.
Ici, le scorpion brise le pacte invisible :
il traverse les chambres closes, délie les serments, libère ce que les familles puissantes avaient enfoui dans le silence.

Omertà évolue entre noir Underground, or Renaissance et bleu Majorelle - une palette alchimique qui invoque noblesse, ascendance et clairvoyance.
Chaque rythme est une révélation.
Chaque transition, une fissure dans le secret.

Le set s’ancre dans l’esthétique Aplanos : vision spatiale, narration intérieure, symbolisme spectral.
Il agrège les sélections incisives de ℭoalition (Hoymans) et les signatures avant-garde de Fané.e (Anetha) : puissance froide, groove noir, gravité spirituelle.

Un acte de dévoilement.
Un blason sonore.
Une omertà qui se rompt.

🦂✨


🜄 Licence & Copyright

© 2025 Aplanos / ART-CHIVES. Tous droits réservés.
Tout contenu protégé (musique, visuels, textes, concepts) est soumis aux droits de propriété intellectuelle.
Toute reproduction, diffusion, modification ou usage commercial non autorisé est strictement interdit.

Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0

Ce set est disponible sous la licence Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0.
Écoute et partage libres, sous réserve de :
— ne pas modifier l’œuvre
— ne pas l’utiliser commercialement
— créditer l’artiste systématiquement
Plus d’informations : creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

Call to action

Partagez librement cette archive sous CC BY-NC-ND 4.0.
Créditez l’artiste.
Transmettez le blason.
Laissez la techno révéler ce que le silence cachait.

ART-CHIVES 05 : Omertà

de la trance actuel, peine d'Energie  inspirer par les les artistes suivants:
mischluft, pegassi, dj daddy trance
un peut d'Acid bien sur!

FASTLIFE

NYC

𝟕̸𝟕̵𝟕̸Ű̴Ű̶Ű̴ 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝; 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞
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Outside the hype cycle.
Inside fast, emotional techno, neo-rave and trance.

One-take DJing.
No cues, no edits — intuition, rhythm, architecture.

Loops, bass, modulation, narration.
Selected gems, played live.

Built for listening.
Not for numbers.

Aplanos

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.

House
Acid-House
Tech-House
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Indie Mix 
Micro-House
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Trance
Techno

New tracks tagged #fast-techno