Hey beautiful souls,

Every now and then, something wakes inside the static.

A song, a memory, a heartbeat that reminds us why we still create, even when the world scrolls past. This week feels like that moment, when art, courage, and connection align.

From a transatlantic spark between Austin and Brussels, to a heartfelt echo of what music used to mean, to stories of teachers, rebels, and dreamers who keep building meaning out of noise… it’s all here.

Keep reading, you’ll meet new voices from France, Belgium, New Zealand, and beyond. There’s even a powerful rap duet made on my soil, and a quiet act of bravery that speaks louder than any song.

Something’s moving again in our indie world, and it begins right here, together.

I wish you a splendid read.

Love, Mitxoda

And now… it’s Neon Vampire feat. Mitxoda. A pulse from Austin (Texas, USA) meets a whisper from Brussels (Belgium), and together, we’ve built something that glows in the dark. My voice, my words, his sound, and finally mixed and mastered by awesome Vanessa Funke, all fused into one wild current ready to strike. On November 28, the collab drops. You won’t see it coming, but you’ll feel every spark. Stay ready. Stay wavy.

Presave It Now!

And guess what? Another collab is already on the horizon… Le Salon Indie de Mitxoda will soon hit the airwaves of another webradio… more on that in a few days. I am truly honored and extremely happy about this new milestone!!

Le Salon Indie de Mitxoda
Fridays, 4pm CET (Brussels Time), live on OTAT247 / Listen on Mixcloud

When Ray Cokes speaks, I listen.

Not because of nostalgia, but because I remember. I remember the electricity of those late nights when music meant something, when the glow of MTV wasn’t just entertainment, it was a spark. It connected kids, outsiders, dreamers. It gave us an unfiltered window into the art that would shape our lives. I was one of those who stayed up after midnight, eyes wide open, waiting for something outrageous, something that would hit deep. The kind of music videos that weren’t meant to please algorithms, but to move souls.

So when Ray said that MTV had already died long before its official end, I couldn’t agree more. The “Music Television” we loved lost its pulse decades ago. Somewhere between the glitter of celebrity culture and the cheap voyeurism of “reality”, something essential was quietly stolen from us. But the most haunting part is that we didn’t even notice the theft until it was too late. We adapted. We scrolled. We traded community for convenience, discovery for autoplay.

Today’s music industry feels like a giant supermarket where everything is beautifully packaged and tastelessly standardized. You walk in hungry, but you walk out empty. And it’s not because there isn’t good music, there’s too much of it, drowning under the noise of numbers, playlists, and performative branding. The songs still exist, the artists still feel, but the channels that once carried their voices have been stripped of emotion and risk.

We’ve entered an age where courage doesn’t trend.
Authenticity has become an endangered species.

And yet, there’s still something that refuses to die.

Ray’s idea of a modern-day, creator-driven “Music Television” makes me dream. A place where artists could share videos without being punished by algorithms or copyright bots. A digital space with heart, where curation matters again, and music discovery feels like an act of trust between human beings, not data points. But this dream, like every good rebellion, will scare some people. Those who profit from the confusion will fight it. The same ones who once buried radio to sell TV, then buried TV to sell streams. The same ones who still pretend that art can survive without heart.

And yet, I feel something shifting. Not in the boardrooms or the platforms, but underground, in our indie world. There’s a quiet, resilient heartbeat there. You can hear it in the DIY studios, in the messages exchanged at 3 a.m. between artists who still believe in each other. You can see it in the small festivals that refuse to die, in the playlists made by people who still listen, not just consume. And yes, in the protests, in the songs written by those who can’t stand watching art being treated as “content”.

And while we talk about who owns the art, another storm brews quietly in Europe. France now wants to tax temporary offline downloads from platforms like Netflix and Spotify, claiming they’re equivalent to making private copies. (Read in French here). The idea? To impose a private copy levy on these cached files that vanish after a few days. It’s a world-first stance, one that even tech companies and legal experts are calling absurd, because these “copies” aren’t really ours. They’re controlled by digital locks, time limits, and the very platforms that profit from them.

So tell me, friends, how much longer will they try to tax what we don’t even own?

How far will they go to monetize the illusion of access?

When every song, every movie, every heartbeat of culture becomes a line on someone’s balance sheet, who’s left to protect the art itself?

Something is missing in today’s culture, something that once held us together. But maybe that absence is precisely what calls us to act. Maybe this emptiness isn’t the end, but the space we need to rebuild from. Because every time the system forgets the soul of music, there’s always a group of stubborn hearts who bring it back.

I’m not a scientist. I’m not God. I am only me, Zoltán aka Mitxoda and I don’t have all the answers. I just see. I just watch. And what I see is a world trying to bury what’s left of sincerity, while pretending to celebrate it. But my indie instinct tells me it won’t work. We won’t let it.

We’ll fight for the space to feel again.

We’ll sing, even if no one listens.

We’ll survive, because we always have.

And somehow, somewhere between silence and sound, the songs of protest will return.

They will not be muted, not in our world.

Not in the world where peace and sincerity still matter.

Not after midnight.

Mitxoda

For once, I won’t talk about music.

What Sziszi shared earlier this month on Facebook isn’t just a decision, it’s a brave act of honesty. It takes real courage to pause, to feel the weight of change, and to still choose creation over silence. Hungarian with Sziszi has always been more than language lessons; it’s been connection, emotion, and authenticity. Artists aren’t only those who play instruments or sing, sometimes they teach, heal, and share human stories. Sending love and deep respect for this new chapter, Sziszi. 💜

There’s something deeply Hungarian in that kind of courage, the quiet rebellion of following your truth no matter what it costs. It carries the same flame that once rose on October 23, 1956, when people chose freedom over fear. That spirit shaped my father’s life, and through him, my own. It never really fades, it just finds new ways to speak.

NOVEMBER 2-4 | AUSTIN, TX

“Almost no one in the history of the Forbes list has gotten there with a salary. You get rich by owning things.” –Sam Altman

At Main Street Over Wall Street 2025, you’ll learn the exact playbook we’ve used to help thousands of “normal” people find, fund, negotiate, and buy profitable businesses that cash flow.

Use code BHP500 to save $500 on your ticket today (this event WILL sell out).

Click here to get your ticket, see the speaker list, schedule, and more.

They sold the soul of music to the algorithm.

We took it back.

See you next Friday, same indie frequency.

Stay loud. Stay human. Stay indie.

Take care,
🖤 Mitxoda

END 😆