Hey my indie friend,

A brand-new submit form is waiting for you at mitxoda.be/submit! After weeks of testing and a whole lot of changelogs, it’s finally live in production.

Now it’s your turn to test it, break it, and, most importantly, send your MP3s for possible airplay! And if you’ve got a Xmas track up your sleeve, even better: the Salon Indie of Friday, Dec 19 is going to be a very special one… So send it in, spread the word, and don’t miss it!

And of course, today at 4 PM Brussels time, Episode 32 goes liiiiiive!

But before that, catch up on a brand-new interview with The Flying Beets, Nadine’s weekly pick, and a little smoke drifting across a Swiss lake that once shaped music history.

Cheers to that… and to the next big bug! :-)

Happy reading,

Love, Mitxoda

Some people use Claude to write emails. Others use it to basically run their entire business while they play Wordle.

This isn't just ChatGPT's cooler cousin. It's the AI that's quietly revolutionizing how smart people work – writing entire business plans, planning marketing campaigns, and basically becoming the intern you never have to pay.

The Hustle's new guide shows you exactly how the AI-literate are leaving everyone else behind. Subscribe for instant access.

Get our Claude playbook

If you wander through Fort Worth’s Near Southside on a bright afternoon, the Magnolia district pulls you in almost automatically. It’s the murals that get you first, big, blooming flowers stretching across red brick, then the gentle buzz of conversations drifting across sunlit tables. People here gather the way music gathers: naturally, without force, as if the place itself has a pulse.

It’s the kind of setting where you instantly understand why communities form around bands. Why some groups don’t just play music, they belong somewhere.

And that is exactly how I felt when I came to meet The Flying Beets.

Not because Magnolia could be their permanent stage, but because the energy of this neighborhood mirrors the band’s spirit: welcoming, creative, a little rebellious, and unmistakably warm. They’ve played here before, and even now you can almost hear the echo of their sound bouncing between the patio lights.

When I walk into their rehearsal space later that day, I recognize the same atmosphere, just more focused, more electric. Nathan Waller adjusts his mic stand while humming a melody that carries both ’60s brightness and ’90s grit. Steven Clements taps a rhythm on his snare, a beat that follows him even in silence. David Cross gives a nod and a smile, the kind of welcome that instantly puts you at ease.

This is The Flying Beets: a feel-good indie rock trio with melodies that lift you before you realize it, and lyrics that land gently but leave a mark.

They talk openly about where it all began, Nathan learning Beatles songs from an old family songbook, the discovery that melodies could shift the mood of an entire day. That early spark eventually collided with alt-grunge rawness and the clever songwriting of bands like Fountains of Wayne.

But their identity sharpened through limitation, not abundance. “Three people,” Steven laughs. “No place to hide. But that’s where the magic is”.

A trio by choice and conviction, they build their songs with intention.

Every note earns its place, every melody carries purpose. Emotion is even held without being drowned.

It’s no surprise their music resonates far beyond Fort Worth.

The Stupid Way You Breathe climbed the national College Radio charts, spending nine weeks there, eight inside the Top 300, and even won the 2024 Song of the Year Award from Neil On the Radio. Their tracks have gathered hundreds of thousands of streams and millions of views, milestones that they still talk about with genuine humility.

And yet, for all their success, their message remains grounded: Everyone has something worth sharing.

Their latest release, There’s Someone Who Will Love What You Do, delivers that message with disarming honesty. They open the song with the title line, no buildup, no hesitation, just truth set to melody.

Somewhere between stories of gigs, influences, and creative processes, their sense of humor and imagination starts to shine. When I ask what mythical creature best represents their music, Nathan doesn’t miss a beat:

“A dragon. Absolutely.”

Not a menacing one, but a playful guardian, colorful, punk-spirited, protective of what truly matters.

“Dragons hoard treasure,” David adds with a grin. “For us, the treasure is music”

And suddenly you see it: a dragon sitting cross-legged in a rehearsal room, eating pizza off a vinyl record, surrounded by glowing cassettes and handwritten lyrics, hoarding not gold, but songs, memories, and moments worth keeping.

A perfect metaphor for a band that protects its craft with love and joy.

But The Flying Beets don’t just guard their own treasure. They fiercely and consistently lift up others.

Behind the scenes, they are some of the indie scene’s strongest supporters, thanks to their incredible work with Sweet Beets – Indie Music Discovery:

👉 https://www.facebook.com/SweetBeetsIMD

It’s a home. Period. And we all feel good, at home.

A space where small artists get real visibility. Where playlists become community. Where kindness is not strategy, but instinct. As Mitxoda, I’ve felt this firsthand.

Their support is genuine, generous, and deeply human, the kind of help that reminds you why the indie world matters. They don’t spotlight artists to look good.

They spotlight artists because they care.

The Flying Beets make music with heart, and they share that heart abundantly.

Beyond the accolades, beyond the streams and awards, beyond the shows on Magnolia or anywhere else, this is a band whose real strength lies in how they make people feel.

Their music lifts you., their words reassure you, their presence builds community, their kindness amplifies others.

That is why The Flying Beets matter.

As our conversation wraps and the rehearsal room quiets down, I catch one last echo of what makes them special. It’s in their laughter, their humility, the warmth of their space. It’s in the dragon metaphor, the Beatles memories, the Fort Worth grit and sunshine.

Later, walking past the Magnolia murals again, I imagine the whole interview unfolding right there on the terrace, sunlight, chatter, a slice of pizza in hand, The Flying Beets playing somewhere in the background and coming back at me for every questions I ask, their melodies weaving into the air like they belong to the place.

And honestly? That’s how this interview truly feels: written, lived, half in their words, half in my imagination, and fully in the atmosphere of a Fort Worth afternoon.

A moment shared between music, place, and possibility.

Now, I wish I could meet them once in my life. Just once. And I know how cool it could be, just take a look at the pictures of the latest Punk in The Corn Festival. Love love love!

See you, soon? or on Bandcamp, here https://theflyingbeets.bandcamp.com/

Sparks shared in the dark, voices rising when the nights grow long, and the quiet magic that happens when people create with heart.

It’s not about the noise or the rush.

It’s about the courage to keep making something honest, hoping it lands softly in someone else’s world.

Stay close.
More is coming.
The darkness is humming.

Thank you for walking this path with me.

With love,
🖤 Mitxoda

END 😆