The Tourist  - Radiohead

Buginjar

slow road home 1

WARFARE

Orchard of Nested Moons || Full video : https://youtu.be/CSrITvK2yRw

A mirror city-ship. A moon orchard. One seed that rewrites the sky.
Hypnotic techno + cosmic recursion visuals — worlds within worlds.
Peak-time energy, psychedelic detail: every surface hides a secret face.

Stream / download / buy ➜
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https://music.apple.com/us/artist/grass-patch-bum/1596136340
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https://soundcloud.com/grasspatchbum
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The Story  ᓚᘏᗢ  ➜
The first time Astra Veyl saw the Orchard of Nested Moons, it was not with eyes.

It arrived as a pressure behind thought—like an unseen tide lifting every memory at once—followed by a soft geometry of sensation: concentric halos, folded light, and the smell of cold resin. The universe did this sometimes, in places where laws grew thin and myths became practical. It would knock, politely, on the inside of your skull and ask whether you intended to remain ordinary.

Astra did not.

Astra was a wanderer of the interstitial: a humanoid silhouette woven from dusk-metal and pale hyphal glass, with veins that carried slow constellations instead of blood. Where a face should have been there hovered a mask—smooth, dark, and faintly reflective—etched with hairline cracks that glowed when Astra breathed. The cracks were not damage; they were scripture, written by a star that had died while refusing to be forgotten.

Over Astra’s shoulders hung a mantle stitched from meteoric thread and moth-wing film. It shifted colors as though it remembered other skies. On Astra’s left forearm—embedded as if grown there—sat a compass of living amber, its needle a thin serpent of light that did not point north, east, or any direction that could be measured. It pointed inward, toward whatever truth you were avoiding.

When the compass began to twitch in tight, ecstatic circles, Astra knew the Orchard was close.

And when the void ahead of Astra restructured itself into a door, Astra knew the Orchard had noticed them in return.

The door was carved from absence. Not emptiness—absence: the clean, deliberate removal of something that should have been there. Around it floated a ring of luminous latticework, as if a halo had been woven by patient hands out of equations and moonlight. Within the lattice, glyph-moths orbited in slow procession: tiny creatures with stained-glass wings and filament bodies, their patterns changing like language learning to sing.

They were not insects. They were tokens of attention.

One drifted forward and hovered near Astra’s mask. Its wings opened, and for a heartbeat Astra saw the moth’s inner architecture: impossibly precise, a cathedral of prisms, a chrysanthemum of angles. Then it closed again, shy as a thought.

Continues on the website.


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Merch Shop : https://grass-patch-bum-shop.fourthwall.com
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https://open.spotify.com/artist/3q0KcTUD3hmRdi1SUWd6VL
https://grasspatchbum.bandcamp.com/
https://grasspatchbum.com/
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Support the tunes:
https://paypal.me/grasspatchbum


#techno #trippyvisuals #technomusic #visualizer #undergroundtechno #musicvisualizer #4kvideo #4kvisuals #psychedelicvisuals #peaktimetechno #hypnotictechno #drivingtechno #melodictechno #aimusicvideo

Orchard of Nested Moons // Youtube for psy video

Ride 2

arctic circle 1

arctic circle (AI)

b side 1

Race U 4 it

See also: SoundCloud.com/SkankCunt (skunt) (alpha-beta-band)

Web: https://www.tomconnellymusic.com/
TikTok: connelly.thomas, obuddhist.

Songs discovered, not written.
Dirges, driftwood, storms, echoes.
Fingerpicked maps of the inside world.

b side 1

Thomas Connelly, Folksinger

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