Mastodawn

Karkia Walo at Sibelius Academy’s Pegasus-klubi. Thank you organizers and all the performers!

#textandmusic #experimentalmusic #poetry #modularsynthesizer #eurorackmodular #karkiawalo #spacepoetry #spokenword #lavarunous #scifi #sciencefiction

Le son du VorteX | Radio 6h ago

🔴 LIVE NOW ON VORTEX
📻 Vortex Sessions 🎧 (Indie pop, synth-pop, alternative rock)
──────────────
🎵 Damon Albarn; Grian Chatten; Kae Tempest; War Child Records - Flags

▶️ Écouter / Listen : VorteX [Radio]
https://lesonduvortex.net

💬 Join us on Discord:
https://discord.gg/d82hJZBeDE

#VortexWave #DamonAlbarn #PostPunk #SpokenWord #2020s

offbeat amsterdam 1d ago

Antony Szmierek

Melkweg, Friday, May 29 at 07:00 PM GMT+2

Antony Szmierek might just be the most sincere artist of the moment. His honest music is, as he puts it, "sincerity on overdrive – a space where people can truly connect." Festivals like Into The Great Wide Open have already been introduced to this poet, writer and producer from Manchester.

His breakthrough came in 2023 with the single ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Fallacy’. Over a strong beat and club-ready synths, he shares a stream of thoughts about vulnerability and escape.

In 2025, he adds to his repertoire with the debut album ‘Service Station At The End Of The Universe’. On it, you’ll hear his signature mix of spoken word over dance music, played with an indie band sound — as he describes it himself. That style makes it easy to mention him in the same breath as The Streets.

In the summer of 2026, Antony Szmierek brings his intense, intimate show to Amsterdam!

https://offbeat.amsterdam/event/antony-szmierek

offbeat amsterdam 1d ago

Derek Otte – Landverrader

Theater de Richel, Friday, February 19 at 08:15 PM GMT+1

Derek Otte neemt je in Landverrader met spoken word, grappen, verhalen en poëzie mee naar een wereld waarin verschillen schuren maar vooral verrijken. Als papa van een pasgeboren dochter bezingt hij zijn liefde voor wat dichtbij is en benoemt hij zijn zorgen over wat verder weg ligt. Welke wijze lessen geef je een kind mee als je zelf dagelijks met dingen worstelt?

Op zoek naar antwoorden bevraagt de sympathieke Rotterdammer de werkelijkheid. Op weg naar een eigen identiteit, baant hij zich een weg door mooie herinneringen, leerzame ervaringen en liefdevolle dromen voor de toekomst. Scherp waar het moet, luchtig waar het kan. Filosofisch en liefdevol, spitsvondig en helder.

“Hoe romantisch kan een nuchtere Rotterdammer zijn? Hij dicht zoals zijn geliefde stad is: rauw, zonder opsmuk, maar wel recht in het hart.” – Peter Pannekoek

“Een woordkunstenaar pur sang die met de zinnen die hij maakt, niet alleen tot nadenken zet, maar ook in het hart raakt.” – Nasrdin Dchar

“Een knappe woordkunstenaar en een humorvolle storyteller. Een echte poëet.” – Theaterkrant

https://offbeat.amsterdam/event/derek-otte-landverrader

GetMusic - Free Bandcamp Codes 1d ago

Free download codes:

Joel Veena - Cardinal

"Cardinal is a sonic journey from original to traditional, played on the 20-stringed Hindustani slide guitar and accompanied by percussion, beats and poetry."

https://getmusic.fm/l/qg0xkn

#bandcampcodes #beats #world #fusion #poetry #hindustani #indianclassical #spokenword #music

pHinnWeb 1d ago

H-M O (a.k.a. Hanna-Mari Ojala) - BWLM Compilation (Lamour Records, 13 May 2026)

https://h-mo.bandcamp.com/album/bwlm-compilation

Four tracks released on "Because We Love Music" collections (2020, 2021, 2024, 2026) by Lamour Records.

#HMO #ambient #drone #experimental #spokenword #electronic #LamourRecords #HannaMariOjala #Finland

Slow Mover 1d ago

The Sabbath Sabotage

They told us
holiness was neat,
pressed flat like Sunday clothes,
folded into bulletins,
spoken in indoor voices,
kept safely between hymns
and handshakes.

They told us
Sabbath was a soft thing,
a nap for the soul,
a gentle pause
before returning
to the holy machinery
of earning, buying, proving, becoming.

But Sabbath was never safe.

Sabbath is a wrench
thrown into Pharaoh’s gears.
A door barred against the market.
A candle lit
in defiance of the floodlights.
A refusal
to kneel before the stopwatch.
A holy no
rising like thunder
from tired bones.

Six days, they say,
you shall labor.
And the seventh?
The seventh is mutiny.

The seventh day
the fields are not your masters.
The ledgers do not own your name.
The inbox may howl
like a beast outside the gate,
but you will not feed it.
The empire counts bricks.
Sabbath counts blessings.
The empire demands output.
Sabbath gathers manna
and says, enough.

Enough for today.
Enough for this body.
Enough for this earth.
Enough for a life
that was never meant
to be fed into furnaces
just to keep the towers warm.

Sabbath is not laziness.
It is revolt
with bread on the table.
It is trust
with dirt under the fingernails.
It is the slave
remembering he is human.
The widow
remembering she is seen.
The ox
remembering grass.
The land
remembering how to breathe.

And maybe that is why
they sabotage Sabbath.

Because rest breaks rank.
Because silence interrupts slogans.
Because delight cannot be monetized forever.
Because a people
who learn to stop
may also learn
they can refuse.

Refuse the lie
that worth is measured in production.
Refuse the sermon
of profit without mercy.
Refuse the fear
that if we cease for one day
the world will fall apart—
as though we were the ones
holding up the stars.

No.
Sabbath is the admission
that we are not God,
and the miracle
that God is still good.

So let the engines choke.
Let the schedules stutter.
Let the tyrants call it weakness.
Let the anxious call it waste.
Let the merchants stand bewildered
before shuttered stalls
and unhurried hearts.

For this is the sabotage:
to rest in a restless world,
to feast in a famine of joy,
to loosen your fist
when all of history
has trained it to clench.

To stop.
To breathe.
To bless.
To remember
that we were not made
for endless extraction,
but for communion—
with God,
with neighbor,
with creature,
with soil,
with our own forgotten souls.

And so, on the seventh day,
we commit our small rebellion:
we light candles against consumption,
set tables against despair,
sing psalms against the grind,
and call this shattered life
still sacred.

This is no small thing.
This is how the kingdom enters:
not always with trumpets,
but with napping children,
unbought hours,
shared bread,
and a people audacious enough
to believe
that the world can turn
without their frantic striving.

Blessed are the saboteurs of empire.
Blessed are the keepers of Sabbath.
Blessed are the tired
who lay their burden down
and find, beneath the weight of all they carried,
a joy the masters could not confiscate.

For every Sabbath kept
is a crack in the idol.
Every prayer whispered at rest
is a seed beneath the pavement.
Every holy pause
is a hammer blow
against the myth
that Caesar owns time.

He does not.
The clock does not.
The market does not.

Time belongs to God.
And God,
in mercy,
has given some of it back to us.