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Meteoritai

Music video on YouTube please share & subscribe, appreciate you!
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
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Dense with shadow-glinting synth spires and a cold, pulse-driven tech engine that echoes through deep space.
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Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
https://youtu.be/gkFVAwy8acU

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

#aimusicvideo #aiart #electronicmusic #techno #scifi #psytech  

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I. Larval Silence
In the black seam between two forgotten moons, a shard-thin cocoon drifted unnoticed for epochs. Nothing moved in that void except the hush of cosmic dust curling around it like smoke around a dying ember. Inside, a being neither wholly creature nor machine dreamed in flickers of monochrome light. Its name, if it had ever worn one, had long ago peeled away with the centuries.
    Tonight—if “night” meant anything in a starless crevice—the cocoon shuddered. Microscopic fissures spider-webbed across the casing. A single silver limb punched through, glinting with mirrored fractals. Then another. The husk split like over-ripe fruit, and the Titan emerged: tall as a cathedral spire, plated in rippling chrome that caught the dim interstellar glow, wings curled tight as scrolls across its back.
    First breath. First heartbeat. The void echoed with quiet thunder. Some ancient imperative tugged at the creature’s chest—an instruction embedded by vanished architects. It flexed its wings once, twice, and the darkness rippled with violet sparks.

II. Quartz-Dune Liftoff
Gravity whispered from below. A slate-grey planetoid crouched beneath the void, its dunes carved from volcanic glass. The Titan dipped, skimming sand that squealed like tiny stars underfoot. Each footfall crackled, sending spirals of violet shards sky-high, where they crystallized into dust devils glittering with uncanny life.
    A pulse tremored through the ground—steady, irresistible. Down in the dune’s roots, something massive churned. Engines? Heartbeats? Memories? The Titan didn’t know; instinct only shouted upward.
    With one decisive sweep, its wings snapped wide. Tens of thousands of metallic scales cascaded open, revealing translucent membranes threaded with lightning-thin circuitry. Airless though space might be, the wings caught on unseen currents and hurled the creature sky-bound. Shattered quartz streamed behind like a comet-tail, and the Titan left the planet to ponder its new scars.

III. The Constellations of Mycelium
Higher still, the Titan pierced a field of living spores—gelatinous, radiant, and webbed together in vast constellations. They lit the dark in neon filaments, mapping the night the way roots map soil. Each spore it brushed detonated into slow-motion fireworks, showering the Titan in phosphor runes that crawled across chrome plates and branded themselves in glowing script.
    The glyphs spoke in flashes of feeling rather than language:

Waypoint.

Threshold.

Birthright.
An invisible star-route unfolded before the Titan—three-dimensional, shifting, and only visible from a single impossible perspective the creature now possessed. It aligned its wings and coasted along the projected path, every flex impeccably timed, as though muscle memory came gifted from ghosts.

Continues on the website : https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/05/29/chrome-butterfly-exodus-techno-neural-space-odyssey-4k-ai-generated-butterfly-visuals/

Chrome Butterfly Exodus

Visualizer Music Video : https://youtu.be/ncBHDoL8AQg
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Fractal portals, hypnotic bass—this space trip resets your brain.
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Please follow - https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
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Please follow - https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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Voyage of the Fractal Nomad
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Follow on SoundCloud for more tracks : https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
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Keep in touch with latest releases:
https://www.youtube.com/@grasspatchbum
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
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Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum
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Page 1: The Cocoon and the Call
In the pitch-black cradle of deep-sector 91‑Δ, something stirred.

The Cocoon was not a ship in the traditional sense. It pulsed, breathed, and dreamed. Its hull was laced with thin-film iridescence, woven from the silk of bioluminescent mycelia. Inside, a singular entity began to wake—the Fractal Nomad. Not born, not made, but grown from the remains of a forgotten psynaut and an ancient fungal intelligence.

No alarms. No spoken commands. Just a vibration that deepened into meaning.

The Nomad blinked twice. Not eyelids—there were no more eyes. But consciousness phased into clarity. A lattice of liquid sunlight unfolded across the Cocoon’s canopy. That was the signal.

The solar sails unfurled, silent sheets of translucent light slicing through vacuum like blooming petals. The Cocoon heaved forward, stretching spacetime into a tunnel of colorless heat. As it entered slipstream velocity, the Cocoon's internal symbiotes pulsed in sync, lubricating the journey with ionized thoughtform lubricants.

And then... they descended.

Not downward, but inward. Into something deeper than space.

Page 2: Tunnels of Smoke and Memory
The slipstream was not linear. It twisted like a Möbius nerve—a loop folded upon itself, hiding deeper truths with every pulse. Inside the stream, light behaved like thought, and thought behaved like fluid.

The Nomad’s mind flickered with echoes of past lives: dying on a jungle planet while mushrooms sang dirges; drowning in clouds made of serotonin; kissing a mirrored self on a moon with no name.

The Cocoon shook.

A metallic howl rippled through the spine of the vessel. The warp coils strained, each one a living organ wrapped in platinum membranes. Electro-psionic turbulence tore at the mycelial lattice, splitting it momentarily into kaleidoscopic nerve clusters.

They were being rerouted. Something unseen had hijacked the trajectory.

But then came the release.

The Cocoon burst into a nebular blossom—a great flower made of starfire and pheromone dust. The Nomad hovered in its core like a bee tasting eternity.

Time bled into petals.

Page 3: The Bloom, the Chorus, and the Caravan
An 8-second eternity.

The Cocoon drifted inside a radiant prismatic bloom, where rainbow light condensed into liquid lenses. Through them, the Nomad could see latticework cities built by forgotten species: organic skyscrapers, breathing streets, psychic highways.

Then, something emerged from the bloom—a mushroom spire, golden and immense, coiling around the Cocoon. It released a harmonic burst of spores, each one humming a perfect A♯ frequency. The chorus of spores sang a name the Nomad had never known it had.

And with that, the Cocoon recalibrated.

A swarm of micro-vessels unfurled from its hull—the Quantum Caravan. These weren’t ships; they were fragments of the Nomad’s own psyche, each carrying a different version of truth. They aligned into a spiral formation and began gliding across a plane of turquoise plasma.


Continues on the website:
https://grasspatchbum.com/2025/07/29/voyage-of-the-fractal-nomad/

#techno  #4kvisualizer  #psychedelictechno  #trippyart

Voyage of the Fractal Nomad

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.

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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 ➜
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

! SOME OF THE AUDIO IS FROM HARDWELL PRODUCER PACK !

Future flatlines (inspired by cornfield chase)

My record label: Povcin Records

(Message my SoundCloud account for application info)

Povinicin is an emerging DJ/artist from Toronto Canada. he is known for his highly energetic vibes and catchy tracks. He was inspired by the famous DJs: Hardwell and tiesto. He specializes in anything electronic. From drum & bass to Dance & EDM.

Po - vi - ni - kin

 IM SO CLOSE HELP ME GET TO 500 Followers!
 
Can yall stop asking me to sign a record label. Im independent.

My contact:

Povinicinmusic@gmail.com

VIP songs link:

Https://povinicinng.newgrounds.com



Artist code: @povcin_records (may change later)

 ! Looking for a collab !

Business contact: benji.axmith@icloud.com

News link (instagram) - https://www.instagram.com/povinicinreal/



Special thanks to: @bgcstudios @user663604707 @lawrence-axmith

Statistics - Povinicin - 12k - 228

Looking for something else 👀

Click here for another Povinicin:
Https://www.bandlab.com/povinicin

Main platforms: SoundCloud and Newgrounds

New releases code: @povcin_records

Povinicin logo V3 is out

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 #space-techno