We welcome our man The Doubljuh to our show - live on air 13.03.19 from 12am till 2am ET on PROTON Radio

Sun kissed awake by the first touch of the distant life-giver, Mother Nature rises from her hibernation. Carefully she shakes off the lethargy of the last months and begins to unfold. At the same time the first bars of the new deep story develop. First cautiously groping and then confidently driving before they unfold in full glory. The musical selection, just like the increasingly green surroundings, lures people out of their dwellings and sets them in motion. They stroll through the parks in droves and leave the sofa they have grown fond of behind them. The sun's rays and electronic sounds increase the pulse rate and the serotonin level. Contentment spreads and is carried by melodic synthetism. Accompanied by occasional vocals, a coherent overall picture emerges. We thank Prismode for this wonderful spring walk, which accompanied us through the gray walls into the colorful world of nature.

The guys from Super Flu are paying us a courtesy call today and pack all their seven beats to accompany the audience into the future fiction vision of Simon Rucker of unterwegs-reiseblog.de. While menacingly dark clouds gather on the horizon and electrify people. Tension fills the air and uncertainty spreads. This tension puts people under strain and yet they still carry hope in their hearts. This ambivalence of the emotional world is being picked up brilliantly by Super Flu and shows their world class in the translation of the story into the universal language of music. They make full use of the repertoire of their many years as producers and DJs and convincingly prove us that music can move mountains… November 2039 We play in the fields behind the village. Our home is in the last block of houses. The paved road ends there and continues as a dirt track towards the edge of the forest. I do not know any details from here, but if I want, I can manage to run home in less than two minutes. Near the edge of the forest stands our little hut. We built it with old roof woodwork of my father. Kasim is standing next to me. The sky is getting dark. As I close the door behind me, I realize on the spot that tonight is not a normal night. No smell of food. No voices of the parents from the kitchen. The hallway is dark and somewhat eerie. I hear the muffled sounds of the screen in the living room. When I enter, my mother jumps up. Samuel, she says ... and grabs me by the arm…

I open my eyes and perceive the blue sky with a foggy mind. With my palm I feel the lush green below me. As I turn my head, with my vision still slightly blurry, I catch sight of wriggling figures. They move rhythmically back and forth. Comforting warmth flows through my body as a bright white cloud makes way for the sun. Slowly I sit up and my synapses are further flooded with impressions. Blurry black and gray becomes peacock feather colorful. Laughter and wild dancing define the scenery, which is framed by electronic compositions. Everyone seems so free and carefree. There is a weightlessness of being like children's birthday parties from earlier times. The surroundings are decorated with attention to detail and the participants of this imaginative congress seem never to have encountered everyday life. Full of joy, I rise and enter the fray. I float through this balmy summer day and let myself drift through undreamed-of spheres. The moments seem endless and pure inspiration is injected into my mind. I dance, laugh, chat, play, discover and seem to have found the Garden of Eden. A rave in the green like a revelation. When will spring finally come again and the time of shared rapture. As a meticulous organizer of ever-growing exotic open-air raves in the Franconian countryside, Tim Tation is exactly the right expert to bring this feeling into our living rooms at home and thus shorten the waiting time for the outdoor season. Years of passionate music research enrich his repertoire with rarities. He is fascinated by the analogy to traditional shamanic music: driving and trippy sounds that build on each other. He transports this and the magic of oriental rhythms into his sets, which, with the help of Laissez-Faire e.V., founded in 2015, are also repeatedly heard in the open air. The friendly crew has transformed a piece of land near Nuremberg into a magical forest of possibilities that you should have seen.

Unser Autor Simon Rucker von unterwegs-reiseblog liefert heute die Fortsetzung zu seiner komplexen und vielschichtigen Dystopie, die auf den ersten Blick an Ereignisse aus dem Geschichtsunterricht erinnern mag. Eine neue Figur betritt heute die Bühne und scheint Lichtbild und Schattengestalt zugleich zu sein. Auf seinen Schultern liegt eine schwere Last und sein Kopf ist voll mit düsteren Gedanken. Die pochenden Fragen, die unerbittlich die Schädeldecke malträtieren, werden musikalisch von unseren heutigen Gast Rauschhaus porträtiert. Sein Beat gibt den Takt der Gedankenblitze des Protagonisten wieder und entwirrt das Chaos, um uns einen Blick hinter die Kulissen dieser Szenerie zu gewähren. Spät am Abend sitzt Jacek Prym allein im weißen Sessel vor den Panoramafenstern der Präsidentensuite des Hotels Ancien Art am Grand-Place. So hat er sich das nicht vorgestellt. Er dreht das Glas Lagavulin langsam zwischen seinen Fingern hin und her. Die dunkelbraune Flüssigkeit bricht sich in den Kristallen. Tief unter ihm die Lichter der Großstadt. Er hätte sich nicht vorstellen können, wie einsam es ist, ein Präsident zu sein. Der erste Präsident. Der erste Präsident eines neugeborenen Staates. Bald Vater eines neugeborenen Kindes. Sein junges Alter ist Teil der neuen EU-Policy. Zwischen den Lichtern sieht er sein Gesicht. Es spiegelt sich in den dicken Scheiben. Wenn man genau hinschaut, bemerkt man, dass er gar nicht mehr so jung aussieht wie in den Streaming-Aufnahmen. Er selbst bemerkt es. Obwohl man in seinen eigenen Augen ja eigentlich niemals, niemals, niemals altert. Verantwortung. Ein großes Wort. Ist es das, was er nun für das alte Europa hat? 8.000 Kilometer weiter südwestlich fegt ein trockener staubiger Wind über die kahle Ebene. Dort in der Ferne sind die Reste der Wolkenkratzer von Downtown Manhattan zu sehen. Nichts, aber auch gar nichts ist übrig geblieben von den nordamerikanischen Staaten. Ihm liegen hier Informationen vor, die der Mehrheit der Menschen nicht einmal ansatzweise bekannt sind. Dennoch… Ob der völligen Auslöschung nahezu aller Menschen, Tiere und Pflanzen und sämtlicher Infrastruktur eine gezielte Aktion des Ostens vorausging oder ob sie auf einen endgültigen Kollaps der Energiesysteme zurückzuführen ist, weiß nicht einmal er zu sagen, falls das überhaupt jemand weiß. Zwar hat er seine Vermutungen, doch er würde sich hüten, damit etwas anzufangen. Gelegentlich werden aus dem nordamerikanischen Ödland Survivors geborgen, die haarsträubende Berichte abliefern. Offenbar sammeln sich überlebende Banden in Camps enormer Ausmaße. Aufklärungsdrohnen können das bestätigen. Viel Budget wird in die Missionen zur Klärung der Zustände im Ödland nicht mehr gesteckt. Es ist anderswo viel dringender nötig. Von systematischen Misshandlungen, widerwärtigen Machtsystemen und scheußlichen Mutationen ist die Rede, wenn Survivors geborgen werden. Doch das ist dieser Tage nicht Fokus seines Grübelns. Jacek Prym weiß, dass die Nordhälfte des amerikanischen Kontinents verlorenes Land ist, er hat anderes zu tun.

This hammering beat seems to be going on endlessly. A repetitive rhythm is stomping through the synapses of my brain. It’s as if the kick-drum from the boxes has eaten into my consciousness. With each beat scraps of memory flash by as if they were under a strobe light. Twitching body parts, faces full of emotions, tall box towers and colorful lights uncontrollably pave their way into my mind. The night seems to overpower everything and I cannot resist it. The throbbing headache is soon mixed with a longing for water. This unquenchable thirst, it seems like the Kalahari has moved into my throat. I try to open my eyes but can’t keep them open for long. It takes a while before these blurry silhouettes turn into a clear view. But my arms and legs do not want to obey my will. Paralyzed, I lie down staring at the ceiling. Then I start to grin and think that I’m ready to give everything again. It will soon be time for some new dancing shoes. The old devil did it again. Everyone has danced to his tune, in the truest sense of the word. The Raverend is truly one of the greatest entertainers of all time. He has contrived to connect the audience with some kind of magical glue, so that the individuals have fused into a sort of supreme collective. The spirit of this sweating and joyful being has driven each one ever further. This DJ understands how to whip up the last energy reserves from all these tired bodies. So I lie completely exhausted but filled with feelings of happiness there, while my mind is already beginning to ask for more. I need the passion, the emotions and the stories that hide behind the electronic sounds. Fortunately, there are now smartphones with voice control ... "Hey mobile, play the current deep story!" "I play deep story no. 111 the awakening by Fat Sushi "

We are very happy to welcome Talul to our show - live on air 12.12.18 from 12am till 2am ET on PROTON Radio.

Today we are happy to announce our further collaboration with Simon Rucker. After his island adventure has entertained us for a long time, his new project is now in the starting blocks. This time he takes us into a dark future dystopia. We will travel with him through a large and complex world that is in upheaval. A world run by a few and where those who don't ask questions are doing well. The prologue of the new episode story is musically accompanied by Thys & Taylor. They pick up the gloomy mood of the first lines and put us in the mind of Samuel with their skillful track selection. My name is Samuel and me writing you this message is the last thing I'm doing in my fading life. My name is Samuel and I am sitting up here on the slopes of the dark mountains in my cabin writing a message that may never reach you. I call it message zero, for there is nothing more to do. Night moves slowly over the ridges, plunging all the rocks and ravines around the vast alpine pasture into its murky darkness. The wild creatures will soon leave their caves and pits to haunt the few remaining ones again and again. And in the meantime I know, there is even worse. Outside in the sky, scattered birds pass by. I don't know, maybe they are already heading south - hoping to find something better there than here. A little bird doesn't have to think much. A little bird may have hope. Shimmering haze hangs over the abyss, it is gradually getting cool in here, behind the thin panes of glass overgrown with brittle moss. It is gradually getting cool in here, I have no more wood for a fire. I light a second candle with the worn gasoline lighter. And if the thing already once burns, also immediately still another cigarette. I shiver, soon I will get my coat in the other room and continue writing. Keep writing until the thin pencil falls out of my aching fingers and I sink down inside myself. If the figures of the night do not succeed sooner in tearing down my barricades in the lower two floors and drag me with their long bony arms from my writing room to do who knows what with me.

Voted in our team as the best track on Zehn Records catalogue so far...

Great forward pushing tracks!