groove, storytelling, and spontaneity in music made after dark – Goldkimono captures emotion with fingerprints left in every beat and lyric.
I’m Tienus aka Goldkimono. I’m a musician, a songwriter/producer, and a guy who tries to make sense of the world by putting feelings to sound. I was born in a small Dutch town and now live in Amsterdam with my partner, our daughter, and a Jack Russell puppy who thinks she’s in charge. My background is a mix of modest roots and wide-eyed wonder—growing up surrounded by lakes and quiet streets, but always drawn to the unpredictable energy of music. I think I learned early on that art could be both expression and connection. It still is.
As a creative person, I’m always somewhere between precision and play. I love crafting lyrics, shaping sonics, digging into details—but I also love accidents. The happy ones. The late-night ones. The kind that make you rethink what you were trying to say in the first place. I try not to over-intellectualize my work, even though it can get pretty layered under the surface. At the core, I think I’m trying to tell the truth, even when I dress it up in a strange suit.
My style leans into groove and storytelling. I love rhythm—it gives a song its bones. But what excites me most is the interplay between rhythm and meaning. My music isn’t overly polished; I like leaving fingerprints, some realness. If a song is too perfect, it loses something. As for the message: I’m not here to preach. I’m more interested in asking questions. What makes us feel free? Why do we repeat the same mistakes? What happens when we stop pretending?
My upcoming album is called ‘This One’s on the House’. It was written mostly at night, after my daughter and partner had gone to bed. I’d sit at our curved dinner table with a travel-sized guitalele and a battered laptop, recording ideas straight into the MacBook mic. There’s something weirdly liberating about not having a “studio.” It made everything feel more spontaneous, more intimate in a way. The title track is both an invitation and a shrug. It’s about letting go of expectations and giving something away without asking for anything in return. The video, made by Cal Bain, plays into that spirit—it’s surreal, handmade, and slightly absurd, in the best way.
Even though I wrote all the music myself, the album wasn’t made in a vacuum. I work closely with my friend Tim, who helps shape the production and arrangement. And I bounce lyrics off my partner all the time—she has a great ear for when I’m overthinking it.
My label mate Dan (from Campkimono Records) also has a sharp sense of direction and helps shape the creative in all kinds of subtle ways. And I love working with other musicians, vocalists, filmmakers—it’s all part of the same conversation. If you’re open, collaboration takes your ideas further than you could’ve imagined alone.
There have been plenty of challenges. Trying to keep momentum as an independent artist. Navigating deadlines. Balancing ambition with family life. But I’ve learned to move through it by remembering why I started. I’ve also gotten better at embracing imperfection. Sometimes the thing you thought was broken is actually what makes it beautiful.
As for inspiration—it’s everywhere. In nature, in overheard conversations, in old records, in the poetry of daily life. I love artists who take risks but still sound universal: Talk Talk, Paul Simon, Talking Heads, 10cc, Peter Gabriel. I also love silence. It resets me. My aspiration is to keep making work that feels honest, that feels alive—and to surprise myself once in a while. If it resonates with others, that’s the magic.
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