The Rotterdam band are a riot of sound, look and attitude led by Eva Kah, who is as much a living artwork as she is a phenomenal live performer

From Rotterdam, the Netherlands
Recommended if you like Gnod, Discharge, Gwar
Up next Debut album Big Enemy out now via Tartarus, playing Le Guess Who festival

Rotterdam’s Bombstrap are a riotous and theatrical fusion of sound, look and attitude. An embodied version of John Milton’s Pandæmonium with the amp turned up to 11, the band revel in hardcore alternative living, internet wormholes, art-school pretensions and a gungy form of hardcore. Based in and drawing succour from one of the most famous squatted centres in the city, Het Poortgebouw, Bombstrap are a noisy counterblast to the increasing and overwhelmingly witless “circuses-and-bread” gentrification of Rotterdam.

The 1990s felt like a golden age, but there are 21 British players in Serie A this season – more than ever before

By The Football Mine

What do Jimmy Greaves, Ray Wilkins, David Beckham, Paul Gascoigne and Kyle Walker have in common? They all made more than 50 appearances for England as well as playing for Italian clubs. While they are household names, the first Englishman to represent an Italian club is less familiar.

The former soldier Charles Adcock moved to Padova just after the second world war having been spotted playing for the British army. By a strange quirk of fate Adcock never played league football in his own country. After spending a handful of years in Italy, in 1953 he returned to England, where he played for Peterborough United, at the time a non-league side.

Did you catch the little details as 48 teams played 104 matches in 16 cities across 39 days?

Miguel Almirón’s dismissal was unusual but there’s nothing new about players losing their cool on the biggest stage

After a fairly pedestrian first half of the opening match of the 2026 World Cup, the game burst into life in the second period. South Africa midfielder Sphephelo Sithole, who had been at fault for Mexico’s opening goal, compounded his error by being sent off in the 49th minute for denying a goalscoring opportunity. When Themba Zwane was dismissed, South Africa became the 15th team to have two players sent off in the same World Cup match.

There was time for one more red card before full-time, the Mexico centre-back César Montes seeing red in stoppage time and following in the footsteps of his manager, Javier Aguirre, who was sent off while playing for Mexico in the 1986 quarter-final against West Germany in Monterrey.

The Dutch ex-punk and Jim Jarmusch bandmate talks about his passion to free up a hidebound repertoire and make its strings ‘a real pop instrument’

Nobody can accuse Jozef Van Wissem of doing things by halves. The musician, very likely the world’s most notorious contemporary lutenist, owns a sonic arsenal of eight of the string instruments: some bespoke, and all boasting remarkable features. With them he has created a huge body of work, nearly 50 titles to date. Another album, This Is My Blood is released this May.

Each Easter, Van Wissem settles down to compose a new record. He finds the peace of Warsaw, where everyone has “gone away for the holidays”, more amenable for work than “noisy” Rotterdam, where he also has a flat.

Cheeky and rebellious, the Netherlands’ own brand of ‘ludiek’ zaniness thrived in the 1960s protest era. Now, the New Dutch Naivety movement is bringing it back with songs about chocolate, good transport and no-smoking policies

Imagine a song about the noisy centre of Amsterdam turning magically into chocolate, prompting children to go wild and eat it. The edifice then melts away, once you get the train from Amsterdam Lelylaan to Haarlemmermeer. This is the story of Amsterdam is opeens van chocolade (“Amsterdam is suddenly chocolate”), a song written by the young alt-pop musician, Thor Kissing. It is an example of a cheeky and rebellious aspect of 20th-century Dutch popular culture, ludiek (“playfulness”), which may be on the rise again.

Kissing is a central figure in a new project that tries to capture what ludiek music means in the 21st century: two compilation albums called Nieuwe Nederlandse Naïviteit (“New Dutch Naivety”), promoting a disparate bunch of contemporary alternative Dutch-language pop artists. In October 2024, the first volume was launched in a spartan youth centre in an out-of-the-way Zaandam suburb. Volume two is set for release this March, in “hip” Amsterdam.

The Netherlands’ guttersnipe answer to French chanson and German schlager is as popular as ever – but has it lost its roots as the defiant voice of the working class? Our writer sways along at the Muziekfeest van het Jaar to find out

‘U doet wat, precies, meneer?’ My chic twentysomething hairdresser throws me a puzzled look: “You’re doing what, exactly, sir?” I am not behaving like an Englishman. I have just told her that I have bought tickets for the Muziekfeest van het Jaar (Music of the Year festival) in Amsterdam’s cavernous Ziggo Dome: a two-night extravaganza that is being recorded to be broadcast on New Year’s Eve as a kind of Dutch equivalent to Jools Holland’s Hootenanny, all dedicated to the brassy, sentimental, often untranslatable and still monumentally popular Dutch pop known as levenslied.

“Levenslied” roughly translates as “songs about life”, and although popular throughout the land, especially in North Brabant, it is commonly associated with Amsterdam, and specifically the formerly working-class district of the Jordaan. A social and local music, levenslied concerns itself with family, friends and close associates. Stylistically, it has a connection to the 20th-century French chanson réaliste of Edith Piaf and, when in a party mood, finds common cause with German schlager.