Releasing after three and a half years, Nishina’s 3rd album “Hibi Sanman” (Scattered Days). Woven together along the two axes of “daily life” and “distraction” with a voluminous 21 tracks, what has this work changed in her, and what has it left as is? From the behind-the-scenes of her production to her views on life and death as a single human being, we recorded her current words.

The Structure of the 3rd Album “Hibi Sanman”

――Could you tell us the reason why you decided to name this album “Hibi Sanman,” and the intention behind dividing it into Discs 1 and 2?

Nishina: It’s really been three and a half years, and before I knew it, songs had piled up and it was like I had to put out an album. When I thought about how to bring these 21 songs together, I struggled with the title, but as I listened through all the tracks continuously, two axes emerged. One was a truly everyday, daily life aspect, and the other was a chaotic, disorganized part—which I felt made up either myself or the songs. By smashing those two axes together, the phrase “Hibi Sanman” (Scattered Days) somehow popped up. I felt like this could bring the album together, so it became the title.

Then, while figuring out how to organize it, the idea came up to divide it into two discs, “Hibi” (Days) and “Sanman” (Scattered). So it’s two discs, but there isn’t a strict rule like “the first disc is daily life songs” and “the second disc is scattered songs.” Whether you listen to 1 and 2 separately or connect them, I built it while prioritizing creating a wave that wouldn’t get boring.

――If you had to name a symbolic track from each disc, which would they be?

Nishina: With my current feelings, “Hibi” is “weekly,” and “Sanman” is “Panda Girl.”

I wrote “weekly” while expressing that cycle from my student days, like how Mondays starting was the worst, but thinking, “Well, taking it all together is fine, it’d be nice if we could just enjoy it.”

As for “Panda Girl,” just from the fact that it starts with saying “tick-tock, tick-tock,” I feel like it’s a bit crazy. The song itself was written as the ending theme for the anime “Ranma 1/2”. The worldview of Ranma is this nonsensical place where guys turn into girls and dads turn into pandas. I wanted to enjoy that sense of things flipping upside down in the song as well, so I wrote it hoping that the up, down, left, and right of space, as well as the up, down, left, and right of ideologies and genders, would get all mixed up. So I think it ended up being the most “scattered” song.

Approach to the Songs and Changes

――I thought the track for “Ada Ada” had elements of hip-hop and hyperpop. What inspired you to try that?

Nishina: Regarding “Ada Ada,” I originally wanted to challenge myself with the Afrobeats genre. Looking back at my childhood, my mother listened to a lot of Western music, and R&B and Black music were always playing, so I always liked that laid-back beat feel.

Within that, there isn’t really anyone doing Afrobeats in J-POP lately, but in Japan, especially people in hip-hop are doing it. I’ve always been curious about what would happen if I approached this beat, so I kept saying everywhere, “I want to do Afrobeats.” Then, I told Yaffle-san, “I want to try this,” and we went into the studio together, made the track, and I took it home to turn it into a song. It’s a track born from trying what I wanted to do, and it fit into the album quite smoothly timing-wise.

――When I heard the beginning of “Oto ni Natte Iku yo” (Turning Into Sound), I felt like you were self-sampling your debut song “Rendezvous”.

Nishina: As I was making this song, I thought, “This sounds so much like ‘Rendezvous’.” Even when making the melody, maybe the chord progression is the same, but “Rendezvous” just kept popping into my head. At first, I thought that might be bad, so I asked various people, “I made this song, but doesn’t it sound a bit like Rendezvous?” Some people said it didn’t bother them at all, while others were like, “True.”

While thinking about what to do, I wondered if it’d be okay to just boldly make the intro a self-sampling kind of thing. I was suddenly struggling with what lyrics to fit there, so even if I took that approach, I’d be happy if long-time listeners could enjoy it and think, “Oh, it’s that!” Since it’s the 3rd album, I thought it would be interesting to pull from a song on the 1st album, so I went with that vibe.

――Comparing your state of mind during the “Rendezvous” era and now, is there anything you feel?

Nishina: I don’t really have a conscious sense of “this changed during production,” but while making “Oto ni Natte Iku yo,” I gained a sense of acceptance in myself like, “I really am going to live and eat by making songs.” Because of that, this song expresses the ideology of turning daily communication with people—family, friends, people I love—into music, whether we clash or click. I think this was the first song that really showcased my day-to-day life as a musician. I felt it was an “Oto ni Natte Iku yo” that I could only write right now.

Musical Exploration and the True Nature of “Madness”

――From when you started your musical activities until now, has there been any change in your feelings toward the people you want to listen to your music?

Nishina: I feel like that hasn’t changed much. When I started making songs in high school, I wasn’t making them for anyone. Once people who listened to my music gradually appeared, my feeling of wanting to leave songs from my daily life and hoping they reach someone has remained unchanged.

――Are there any new genres you’ve added to what you’re listening to now?

Nishina: I always try to look for new encounters. If I forget to explore, I’ll just get stuck on the songs I used to listen to. I listen to things with a downer mentality, and I also listen to dog-walking songs like, “Let’s go for a walk.” I feel like I’ve become able to listen to all sorts of music without preconceptions.

――Regarding the phrase “harboring transience and madness” in your profile. Are there any parts of this work where you think that “madness” came out?

Nishina: Reading my own profile like this makes me shy, since I’m not the one saying it (laughs).

If I had to answer something to that myself, I think it’s a fine line. For example, with “Glory,” behind wishing for peace, things are happening that we haven’t truly seen but want to look away from, and maybe that’s close to madness. As for the next track, “Twinkle Little Star,” when you think about what freedom is, to put it extremely, dying is also that person’s freedom, isn’t it? But because of that, I think you can go anywhere. That’s also a fine line; I think it’s both madness and the joy of living.

The Scenery of Tokyo, the Vitality of Overseas

――To you, being born and raised in Tokyo, how do you see the city of Tokyo?

Nishina: When I was little, I didn’t think much about it, but as I met various people who moved here from other countries or prefectures, I realized everyone’s image of Tokyo is truly different. For me, year by year, the realization that this is my hometown grows stronger, and I feel it’s a warm, soft city for me.

There is a part of me that is growing to love the cityscape of Tokyo more each year. For example, early in the morning, if you run toward the city center, the sunlight reflecting off the buildings or when it’s foggy. I’m sure there are things born precisely because it’s this city. Morning Tokyo is highly recommended.

――I heard you went overseas a lot last year as well.

Nishina: I went to Hong Kong, Taiwan, Shanghai, Malaysia, New York, and so on. I haven’t done any live shows overseas yet, though. Even if the language doesn’t perfectly translate, when you go abroad, kind people are kind, and because we’re human, there are times we click or don’t. I always feel that. I think that’s interesting. Also, I feel a sense of vitality from everyone. “So this is how they walk toward their jobs here, these people are so cool”—I think that no matter which country I visit.

Facing the Future

――What kind of artist do you want to become in the future?

photo by Daiki Miura

Nishina: Man, that’s really difficult. At the timing of an album release, I get asked things like “Where are you heading next?”, so I think about it a lot. It’s both a good and a bad trait of mine, but I really don’t have one. I think it would be so cool if I could say something like, “I’m going to stand up there, so follow me!”

What I think recently is that the thing I want to gain isn’t something huge. I just want to cherish and bring happiness to the people within my reach, and I want to leave behind a way of living born from my true self and the communication with the people I meet. To keep doing that until I get bored of it is my true feeling. “I want to stay light on my feet” is the most important thing.

At the beginning, I had no choice but to work frantically, but arriving at this point, I really want to prioritize how I want to live as a single human being. I think now that maybe that is my goal.

――How about the tour starting in March?

photo by Daiki Miura

Nishina: Live shows are living things; no matter how many times you do them, they’re definitely different, and I think that’s interesting. I’m also looking forward to the groove with the band members accelerating as we head into the latter half. As for how to get through it, I try not to worry too much about my throat condition and things like that. Once I start worrying, I’ll worry up to 100% (laughs). I try not to sweat the small stuff and just broadly enjoy it. Of course, I want to play at live houses, but someday I’d also love to perform at aquariums or planetariums, places other than live houses.

During the interview, she repeatedly said, “I want to stay light on my feet and in a natural state.” The 21 songs packed into her 3rd album “Hibi Sanman” are rooted not in artistic ambition, but in “daily life” and “a sense of acceptance” as a single human being. Like the morning light of Tokyo, her journey of turning the casual scenery of everyday life into sound will surely become even freer and lighter from here on out.

The post INTERVIEW | Nishina: 3rd Album “Hibi Sanman” and Where She Is Now first appeared on WEEAVE.

 – First, please tell us the origin of your band name. The name ผ้าอ้อม99999 is highly unique; how did you decide on it?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: When we applied for Senko Riot, I thought the judges wouldn’t pay attention to an ordinary name, so I suggested using something other than Japanese or English alphabets to stand out. I was torn between Arabic and Thai, but since I love Thai food, I went with Thai, indulging in the delusion that “maybe if we get famous, we can play live in Thailand.” At first, it had no meaning; we just chose it for its visual appearance and phonetic feel.

–Afterwards, you actually performed at the Thai music festival “Maho Rasop” and formed connections with the local scene. Was there a moment when the name served as a catalyst to connect with Thai culture?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: At first, we just wanted to stand out, and we actually planned to disband after “Senko Riot.” But when we decided to keep the band going, we seriously started thinking, “It would be great if we could properly learn about Thai culture and connect with the local scene.” To be honest, I’m not sure if the locals found the name amusing, but I like to think we were chosen because of that initial impact combined with our musical performance.

An Ever-Changing Entity. The Essence of “Junk Pop”

– You call your genre “Junk Pop” and describe it as “positively swallowing up various scattered fragments.” Could you elaborate on this concept of “positivity”?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: The cycle of internet culture is incredibly fast right now; even with a single meme, you can’t keep up unless you understand its context and roots. And those contexts themselves are constantly being rewritten and forgotten.

What we value in our Junk Pop style is enjoying those very contexts that keep shifting and breaking down. Rather than lamenting the loss of context, we embrace the process of it weathering and collapsing. It’s not about denying the roots, but being drawn to memes as “entities whose meanings are constantly changing.”

– You’ve openly acknowledged the influence of internet memes and MAD videos, but what kind of things did you actually grow up watching?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: Video games were banned in my house, so I spent all my time browsing the internet on a laptop I got in my third year of junior high. I loved Nico Nico Douga, 2channel summary sites, and anime heavy on homages like “Sgt. Frog” and “Gintama.” Even now, I still look up their original references. It’s an unorthodox way of discovering things—listening to the remix first and then looking up the original source.

Swallowing the Stress of Real Life: Information Overload and Reality

 – I’d also like to ask about your musical roots. Which artists have influenced you?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: I got interested in electronic music after listening to Sakanaction in elementary school. After that, it was DALLJUB STEP CLUB. I was drawn to the mundane gap between them playing club sounds as a band while having lyrics like “The Yayoiken Song.” I’m also influenced by artists like SUSHIBOYS and Dongurizu, where the tracks go hard but the lyrics are just messing around.

 – Regarding your music production process, do you decide on a concept first?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: I usually make the tracks first. I’ll think, “This sound reminds me of this, so let’s go with this theme.” For example, I made “Isogashimangmō-mō, Isogashimangmō” when I was struggling as a busy part-timer, thinking, “This is a restless song, so let’s make the agony of a part-time job the theme.” It’s just a “lame reality” where I’d get yelled at, but perhaps that ended up acting in a hip-hop sort of way.

From the Momentum of Senko Riot to a Giant Stage in the Desert

– From “Senko Riot” to the present, how have your ambitions as a band changed?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: That Senko Riot was the first one held since COVID, and the age limit had been raised to 23, so my feeling was just, “It’d be cool if we could gather the oldest guys and win purely on momentum.” But after getting reactions on the internet, our ambitions grew significantly. To cut to the chase, our current goal is to play at Coachella. We want to perform there so badly.

– What was it like working with the legendary engineer, Illicit Tsuboi（イリシット・ツボイ）?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: The tracks I make just have an overwhelming amount of sounds, but thanks to Mr. Tsuboi making the brave choices of “what to keep and what to cut,” we were able to strike a good balance between junk and pop. I feel like it sparked a great chemical reaction.

Cherishing the Absence of Meaning. The “Junk” Symbolized by the Kurimatsu Meme

– I imagine you also collaborate with external creators, such as 3D animators, for your visual aspects. How do you construct your visuals?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: We have meetings, of course, but rather than deciding on specific keywords, we spend more time talking about memes we recently found funny or cultures we like.

– By the way, are there any memes that have left a particularly strong impression on you lately?

ผ้าอ้อม99999: Within what I can say, it would be the meme made overseas where Kurimatsu from “Inazuma Eleven” is roughly collaged.

The pop music of chaos and affirmation painted by ผ้าอ้อม99999. It is like a modern ritual that swallows countless fragments of information and sublimates them into new contexts. Their gaze is directed straight from their part-time jobs in Yokohama to a giant stage in the desert.

The post Interview: ผ้าอ้อม99999 —— How Contextless “JUNK POP” Affirms the Depths of the Internet and the Reality of Part-Time Life first appeared on WEEAVE.

Recently, a newly released cypher video has been generating massive echoes across borders. Featuring a lineup of seven rising rappers—including talents from Hong Kong and Macau—passing the mic, the visual doesn’t show Taipei as a glittering tourist destination. Instead, it captures the “real Taipei”—raw, hungry, and resonating with the most cutting-edge sounds.

While linking with global, avant-garde sounds like CHE, osamason, and slayr, the Taipei underground is evolving in its own unique way. WEEAVE conducted an interview with the director of this project (who is originally from Hong Kong himself). From the hidden stories behind the video to the “invisible enemy” they are fighting, and their passionate aspirations towards Japan, he shared it all.

A Multinational Crossroads of Talent Centered in Taipei

What was the intention behind this lineup?

JJ:I intentionally made the lineup diverse to paint a full picture of Taipei’s underground hip-hop in 2026: it’s bursting with raw energy and incredible versatility. What makes this combination special is that two of the artists—Lobo Slashemall from Hong Kong and Sevenmind from Macau—aren’t local Taipei natives. (I’m originally from Hong Kong myself.) Yet, we all connected naturally through the underground scene here.

Taipei’s underground isn’t isolated; it’s a magnet that pulls in talent from across Asia. It creates a multi-faceted sound that mixes local grit with global influences. We’ve seen so many comments from overseas saying the flows and vibes remind them of CHE, osamason, slayr, etc. That’s exactly what we wanted to show. Taipei has a vibrant, hungry underground scene on the same wavelength as the world’s most cutting-edge sounds. This cypher is our manifesto, shouting to the world, “We’re here, and we’re coming strong.”

A Movie-Like Story Arc Born from Chance

The order of the rappers created a brilliant narrative arc. How did you decide on the structure?

JJ: Honestly, I initially used a website’s lottery draw to assign positions completely at random, just to keep things fair (laughs). But after seeing the lineup, I made a few small tweaks to give it a story line—almost like a movie with an introduction, rising action, a twist, and a strong finish.

• Introduction: I deliberately put PHIL COZY first. His smooth, melodic flow and mostly English bars make it a highly accessible entry point for international viewers. It’s a silky smoothness that immediately proves, “Taipei can hang with global sounds.”
• Rising Action: Then YUNG ANDYPISTOL and LOBO SLASHEMALL come in to crank the energy way up. Andy’s punchy, aggressive trap vibe combined with Lobo’s raw Hong Kong street edge creates an explosive build-up, exposing pure hunger.
• The Twist: Around the middle, BABYGRAPE is the big “twist.” His experimental, wavy approach on that unique beat flips the script completely. It brings an unpredictable, fresh air, making it feel like the cypher is evolving in real time.
• The Climax & Resolution: Finally, SEVENMIND, LIL RICK BABY, and BB bring variety and catharsis. Sevenmind adds cinematic depth and mood, Lil Rick Baby drops technical rage and insane wordplay to flex his skills, and BB closes it out with bouncy, charismatic swag.

Even though it started random, I believe we managed to express the dynamic, multi-layered nature of Taipei’s underground, where different energies collide yet harmonize into one massive wave.

Deadline Magic and Online Chemistry

The chemistry with the beats was outstanding. How long was the production period?

JJ: To be real, we had very little prep time—only about two weeks total—and absolutely no rehearsals. It was an entirely remote production where everyone just sent their verses online to the main producer @scvrlet.pi, and guest producers like 1jowisen (for Andy) and 2ukko (for Babygrape). That means the “chemistry” you see happened through file exchanges and last-minute tweaks.

The biggest surprise was YUNG ANDYPISTOL in the first half. He sent several versions early on, and while they were good, I felt “something was missing.” But on the actual deadline day, he dropped this insane version called “no1. Type of chigga.” The energy, the repetition of “Ima one type of chigga / #1 type of chigga,” the aggressive delivery… it was exactly the perfect piece needed to explode after Phil Cozy’s smooth opener. I was shaking, thinking, “Where did this come from?!” No fancy studio sessions, just pure hunger and last-second genius. That deadline magic is what makes the underground so special.

Shaping, Not Following: The “Sound of Taipei”

If you had to describe the current “Sound of Taipei Underground” in 2026, what would it be?

JJ: It’s a “hybrid” that refuses to fit into just one box. It fuses a deep respect for authentic boom-bap spirit and raw street grit with completely new, experimental rage, trap, and plugg influences.

It’s not just nostalgia or pure futurism—it’s messy, emotional, chaotic, and full of life. From scvrlet.pi’s dark, static-heavy beats to Babygrape’s psychedelic twists and Lil Rick Baby’s high-speed technical rage. Furthermore, switching between Mandarin and English internet slang mid-bar perfectly reflects Taipei’s fast-paced, multicultural streets.

As someone from Hong Kong, I’m still figuring out exactly what the “Taipei Flavor” is. But one thing I was determined to preserve and push forward in this cypher was using Chinese (Mandarin). Hip-hop often defaults to English for global reach, but I wanted to prove that Chinese can stand strong on its own internationally without losing its soul. We aren’t just following trends; we are mixing in our own unique flavors—neon shadows, late-night hustle, compressed emotions—and we are ready to collide with the cutting edge of the world.

Visually, the dark textures contrasting with Taipei’s public image left a strong impression.

JJ: Yes. We intentionally excluded all the bright, polished, tourist-friendly imagery like Taipei 101 or colorful night markets. That mainstream, superficial beauty often buries the real underground music of Taiwan.

Instead, we rented an abandoned warehouse to emphasize the “shadows” and “grit.” This symbolizes their unstoppable energy, trying to break through while being buried under mainstream styles. The moody red lighting creates tension and intimacy, focusing entirely on the artists’ presence.

Also, in Part 2, we switched to red and blue lighting—intentionally echoing the colors of the Taiwan flag. Red for passion and hunger, blue for depth and resilience. The contrast between the dark shadows and the national colors bleeding in is a quiet assertion of identity: “Taipei’s underground isn’t just surviving; it’s putting down roots in this city and standing up to the world.”

Is there a common “invisible enemy” that these young rappers share?

JJ: Yes. It’s the reality of being “ignored and underestimated.” Mainstream Taiwanese media rarely covers real underground hip-hop, international scenes still view Asia as “followers,” and even locally, it gets overshadowed by pop. The rebellious feeling against being treated as “not serious enough” or “too small” is our greatest driving force, consciously or not.

We don’t have big budgets or major labels, but the pure hunger of “we can do this too” and “we’ll show you Taipei’s fire” drives us. We aren’t fighting a specific person or system; we are fighting “silence.” And right now, our voices are starting to get loud.

Looking Toward Japan: Breaking the Silence, Reaching the World

Finally, what are your future prospects?

JJ: Our most concrete goal right now is to perform live in Japan.

Surprisingly, about 50% of the viewers for this cypher currently come from Japan. The comments section is overflowing with enthusiastic reactions like “Taiwan is crazy” and “This is the hottest in Asia.” We don’t want to waste this energy. First, we want to bring this lineup, or at least some of the members, to Japan to make a showcase or live show a reality. If possible, we strongly hope to collaborate with Japanese artists as well.

“We are fighting silence.” The director’s words are sure to pierce the hearts of all independent artists working across borders. Rather than relying on prepared stages, they are carving out their own spaces, overcoming even language barriers with their flow and passion. The day when the heatwave released from Taipei’s basement shakes livehouses in Japan may not be far off. WEEAVE will continue to follow their next moves.

The post INTERVIEW| The Current State of Taipei’s Underground first appeared on WEEAVE.

In this interview, the members trace their story in their own words—from how the band formed to their roots, their view of the scene today, and what lies ahead.

First, could you introduce Geloomy?

Shouchou: We’re a band with roots in disco, soul, and funk, but we also draw from classic rock—there are a lot of different elements in what we do.

What sparked the band’s formation?

Shouchou: At the very beginning, it was really just like, “Let’s hang out and mess around in the studio.” We got together for the first time and figured we’d do some covers or something. Then, as things flowed naturally, we started playing originals—and before we knew it, this band had become what it is.

Do you remember the first cover song you played?

Shouchou: “My Girl” by Kan Sano.

Could each of you tell us what got you into music?

Shouchou: There was always soul and funk playing at home, and around my third year of middle school I got really into Tom Misch. There wasn’t one clear moment—it was more like I’d kept vaguely thinking, “I want to do music,” for a long time.

Jinzou: I ended up in the same class as Shouchou in high school, and when I saw him playing guitar I thought it looked fun. I started on guitar, and later I was listening to King Gnu and OKAMOTO’S and thought, “Bass is so cool.” It wasn’t like I decided to become a bassist—I just play bass because I like it.

Hai: In middle and high school I played percussion in a wind ensemble. I used to watch Buddy Rich videos constantly, and around the time I entered university I started listening to more Black music. I admired Questlove and Nate Smith, and that’s what led me here.

Kanzou: I played piano a little in elementary school, then stepped away from it. But in university I listened to Kan Sano, and from there I dug into Robert Glasper and Reuben James—and I started thinking I might try again.

When was your first live show?

Shouchou: Around spring of 2023. At that point we had zero songs on streaming, and we’d only just started moving our Instagram a little.

How did it feel when you finally reached your one-man show at Shibuya WWW?

Shouchou: We’ve always played in places where we’re really close to the audience, and it feels like we’ve grown together with the people who keep coming back. It’s like we’re creating the “content” called Geloomy together.

Hai: In my previous band, I’ve played shows with zero audience before, so seeing WWW packed out honestly made me think, “This really has a dream to it.”

Jinzou: I was glad we could present our world with a certain level of quality—not just the performance, but also the VJ and the merch. It felt like a real milestone.

Kanzou: It was the right moment—things we’d been doing up to that point were coming together, and we had a proper place to show it. A lot of people were dancing too, so in terms of results it was huge for us.

Where do you want to take Geloomy from here?

Shouchou: First, we want to put out more songs. After that, while keeping the four of us as the core, we want to start borrowing a bit of strength from outside as well. A lot will change—drastically—but we’ll keep what’s good about Geloomy as it is, and take our time as we make our move.

What stages do you want to play, and what goals are you aiming for?

Shouchou: WWWX, LIQUIDROOM, and then beyond that—Zepp. We want to take the time it takes.

Hai: I want to go overseas. Taiwan was great, and I want to go to Asia, the U.S., Europe—everywhere.

Jinzou: I want to do shows in small cafés too, or in places with really cool scenery.

Kanzou: For our recordings, I want us to shape a sound with an overseas audience in mind as well—stylish, but with a slightly off-kilter edge.

How do you see Tokyo as a city?

Shouchou: Tokyo feels polarized. There are people who come here because they genuinely have something they want to do, and there are people who come here without much reason. We want to be the former. I think music will keep getting more “fashionable,” but it can’t become only that. It’s a city where finding the right balance is hard.

What kind of scene do you want to see from here on out?

Shouchou: I hope there are more places where people don’t judge others by genre, and can just enjoy music purely.

Kanzou: I want a scene where you can absorb things well, regardless of genre.

Jinzou: It would be interesting if there were more environments where you can listen to music naturally—somewhere that isn’t a live house.

Hai: More places where you can be like, “Oh, something’s happening,” and casually come into contact with live sound.

Finally, could you leave a message for the readers?

Shouchou: We do the songs, the videos, the design, the mix—everything ourselves, and we want to keep doing what we love. I’d be happy if you remember us and put us on when you have some time.

Born from coincidence, Geloomy is still moving forward by trusting the flow. And yet, that movement has begun to take on a clearer outline. With time on their side, their position keeps updating—this is still only the middle of the story.

The post INTERVIEW: Geloomy — How a Band Born from Chance Turned It into Conviction first appeared on WEEAVE.

— First, please introduce yourself.
who28: I’m who28.

— What is the origin of the name “who28”?
who28: It was the day Lil Peep passed away (November 2017) that I decided to really start making music.
At the time, I was debating whether to use my real name or create a stage name. I had these numbers that felt like “angel numbers” to me. My birthday is February 8th, and there was a time when I kept seeing the numbers “2:08” everywhere in town. That made me want to include “28.”

— Was it inspired by someone you looked up to?
who28: No. I don’t admire anyone in that way, and there’s no one I’m chasing. I feel like the work comes first and the name follows later, so I thought the name could be anything.
But since my birthday is Feb 8th and I kept seeing “2:08,” “2,” and “8” everywhere, I wanted to incorporate “28” like an angel number.
So, I added “28” to “who” and became who28. It’s similar to naming a character in a video game.
It carries the feeling of: “I’m nobody, and I won’t become anybody, but I am me.”

— Was that a reflection of the vibe of the era?
who28: Definitely. Back then, with XXXTentacion’s generation, there was this trend where names that were hard to read were considered cool. There was a bit of a desire to make the name “unreadable.” I kind or regret it now, though (laughs).

— If you were to rename yourself now?
who28: Honestly, nothing comes to mind immediately (laughs). But I think a name that sticks instantly, like “Fujitaito,” would have been better.

— Tell us about your musical roots. Is there a strong influence from a specific person in the music you make now?
who28: Not in a heavy sense. But I love “songs with a soul.”

— What kind of music did you grow up listening to?
who28: I liked David Bowie, and I really loved Radiohead.

— What triggered your move into rap?
who28: When I first discovered Trap, I felt it was freer than rock—like anything goes.

— Any other sounds that influenced you?
who28: I’ve liked Perfume for a long time. Lil Wayne and T-Pain were also huge. When I first heard the sound of “Auto-Tune,” I realized, “This is what I’ve always liked.”

— What was your entry point into Hip-Hop?
who28: Wu-Tang Clan. It started when I bought one of their hats and looked them up. I was blown away by the hook of “Cash Rules Everything Around Me (C.R.E.A.M.).” I got into it through fashion.

— Do you listen to Japanese music?
who28: Yes. In Japan, I like soulful things like Yutaka Ozaki. I don’t really like music where I can’t hear the soul. But I like m-flo, and I listen to Mr. Children too.

— What is the “heat” you want to put into your songs?
who28: Including live performances, I think music is meaningless if it can’t give energy to the listener. First, I want to properly create and release songs that allow me to put out energy.

— Tell us about your latest EP. What thoughts did you put into the title “TAIGA”?
who28: “TAIGA” is my real name. While there’s the “who28” side—the person I want to be or the version of myself I like—there’s also a “lame” side, an immaturity I don’t want to expose. I felt the texture of that immaturity was very “TAIGA.”
Originally, I was going to release an album titled “who28,” but when the songs came together, a switch flipped: “I should release this as TAIGA first.” I want to release the next album as “who28.”

— Where in the songs did you find “TAIGA”?
who28: In the first track, “Fuck Love.” I started making it using Trippie Redd and XXXTentacion’s “Fuck Love” as a reference point, using phrases like “Baby, I need you in my life.” Beyond that, I’m clashing with the feeling of “wanting to be together” versus “needing to focus on myself alone right now.” That conflict felt like my current immaturity.
Also, lately, I feel like I’m “peeling back my skin” (becoming raw). I prefer songs that capture that current feeling of mine over songs that look like a perfectly groomed face.

— Are the later tracks on the same line?
who28: The last track, “miss you,” is almost like just singing my daily life as it is. That felt like my true self—TAIGA—rather than the bravado of who28.
But I don’t want to completely separate who28 and TAIGA into two different personas. In the end, they are one.

— Conversely, what state of mind is “who28-like” for you?
who28: Simply put, it’s the state where I can like myself. When I’m close to my ideal self.
I still rewatch XXXTentacion’s Instagram Lives from before he passed, and different words resonate with me at different times. This time, words like “Become who you want to be” hit me hard.

— Do you have an ideal image?
who28: It might sound shallow, but I just want to be having fun making music.
Also, I believe a little bit in reincarnation. If my future self in the next life finds an artist named who28 and thinks “this is cool,” that might be my life goal. That’s why I want to make and release as many good songs as possible before I die. I want it to spread widely enough to reach my next life.

— Can you speak more specifically about the influence you received from XXXTentacion?
who28: I started liking Juice WRLD after he passed, but I was really listening to Lil Peep and XXXTentacion while they were still alive.
If I talk about influence, it’s the sense that “you have to grow as a human for your songs to get better.” I think XXXTentacion was in the middle of trying to change himself. So, I want to grow properly every day.

— What is Hip-Hop to you?
who28: I don’t “worship” hip-hop as a genre. When I make my own songs, I don’t draw lines like “this is rock” or “this is hip-hop.” Whatever I think is “cool” is what hip-hop is to me.

— Then why do you call yourself a “rapper”?
who28: Because I didn’t start with composing; I started by learning about freestyle and entering battles. No matter how far I go, my core is closer to being a rapper.
From the perspective of people in other scenes, I’m clearly seen as a rapper. Conversely, when I go to the rap scene, people say I’m “hyperpop-ish.” But I have a strong sense of doing this as a rapper.
In Tokyo, there’s an atmosphere where people acknowledge each other across genres if they think something is cool. On the other hand, in Osaka, it felt like things were more strictly divided. When I performed in Osaka, someone told me, “We don’t do this alternative stuff,” but I’m doing it because I think it’s hip-hop.

— Who do you want to reach with your music?
who28: I want it to reach everyone. Among them, I especially want it to resonate with people who are fighting themselves.
I feel like there are many people who just do what they’re told and go through life without thinking deeply. Since we only get one shot, I think people should get more passionate about their lives.
I don’t like the atmosphere where “being cool/indifferent” is seen as the right way to be. Many people put on a front and only say cool things, but I think, “There’s no way that’s the whole story.”

— Finally, a message for those listening to your work.
who28: If this music is playing at a moment in your life when you want to take a step forward, I want it to be a work that helps us move a little together.
Don’t be too tense; just play it somewhere in your daily life. I’d be happy if it helps when you need courage or a push in the back.
I can continue music because there are people who listen. Thank you, always.

His career, which began by calling himself “Nobody” (who), has now arrived at a point of sincerity where he carries his “Real Name.” The heat that who28 emits will continue to change shape, but it will surely continue to quietly yet powerfully push his future self—and all of us living in the now—forward.

The post Interview: who28 — From “Nobody” to the Raw Reality of “TAIGA” first appeared on WEEAVE.

For this conversation, Sion reflects on why eigensinn had to happen now—what burnout revealed, how electronic music and hyperpop became the most honest place to rebuild from, and why “organic” is still a non-negotiable, even in the loudest, roughest textures. From nighttime cliffs to Porter Robinson’s foley-driven warmth, from Tokyo’s harmony to Koji Kondo’s craft, Sion maps the record through the moments that made it click.

First, for people meeting you for the first time — how would you describe “Sion” in one short phrase?

Sion: Sion is a constantly evolving artist.

This shift in sound feels very intentional. Why did you choose this musical direction now — and what changed most clearly from your previous work?

Sion: I had a pretty big burnout. I felt that my past work didn’t really represent me as an artist anymore. It was more like a result of influences where I didn’t have the overhand. It was uncontrolled.
So I felt the need to find something I love and resonate with. And that was electronic music and hyperpop. Listening to the Japanese electronic music scene, I fell in love with the way they tweak pop music to their taste and make interesting textures. That was the first time I wanted to do a certain genre or style. So I just went with it — purely instinctive.
This album is the same. It’s instinctive, quirky and fun, while keeping the melodic strengths of my past work.

When you imagine this record playing in real life, what kind of scene do you see — morning or night, and where?

Sion: I feel like this album is best suited to a nighttime setting on a mountain — maybe even on a cliff. The weird mixture of emotional moments and danceable moments suits that setting the best.

No matter how the genre shifts, there are usually a few things that never move. If you had to name three words for your core, what would they be? And is there a track where that core is most obvious?

Sion: Detail, hybrid, organic.
I began as a classical musician, so I grew up constantly analyzing details in music — and that reflects on my music. Even if hyperpop is a really rough genre, I can’t escape this detail-oriented mindset, and I don’t mind it honestly.
Since I’ve done R&B, hip-hop, ballads, classical music, jazz — so many different genres throughout my career — I feel like it’s now in my blood to mix and mash up different genres. Hybridize music.
And when I listen to music, I never use noise cancellation. I like to listen to music breathing with the ambience around me. Music to me is organic, and I always like to have some organic factor in my music.
The track that displays all three aspects the best is “homes.” It’s a hybrid of pop, rock, folk, hyperpop, has organic textures throughout, and I spent weeks tweaking details nobody would notice.

If a first-time listener could hear only one song to understand who you are right now, which track would you choose — and what’s one defining moment in it?

Sion: That would be “avoid2.” I produced that song in one week. It was a really different experience compared to my past work. I didn’t overthink — I tried to utilize every little idea that came to mind.
It starts with an ambient intro, goes into an EDM build-up, switches to a rage drop, then a hardstyle–phonk hybrid drop, and lastly builds into a riddim drop. It’s like a rollercoaster.
I feel like the way the rage part and the phonk part don’t have a build-up or breakdown in between shows how stupidly instinctive this song is (1:40). I feel like that’s me right now: versatility, fun, electronic music.

Were there any references — a track or artist — that directly shaped how you approached this project? What did you borrow from them?

Sion: I got influenced by a lot of different artists. Porter Robinson’s album Nurture is still a go-to handbook for me to learn how to utilize textures and foley to make a track feel more organic and lively.

peterparker69 also inspired me to mess around with my vocals — pitch shifting and bending the stereo image. So many more.

You spend time in Tokyo — what part of the culture sticks with you the most?

Sion: I really love the balance between self-expression and cultural preservation in Tokyo. It’s fascinating to see people with different perspectives respect each other’s point of view. More expressive people acknowledge older values and cultures, while most people also appreciate the art of expressing themselves.
I feel like that is lacking in a lot of parts of the world. Harmony.

Any Japanese artist you’re especially paying attention to right now — with one concrete moment that stayed with you?

Sion: I was at the year-end party of WWW last year where lilbesh ramko performed. I was already a big fan, but the energy and his delivery on stage blew me away.
How he made remixes of his own songs to surprise the crowd, how he moves to his music — everything inspired me and the way I perform nowadays.

If you could spend one day with a Tokyo creator — who would it be, and what would you want to make together?

Sion: I would love to spend a day with Koji Kondo. I’m a big fan of game music and I would love to work as a game music composer someday as well.
So I’d love to see how he works on his pieces and learn from him.

For listeners stepping into eigensinn for the first time: two gateway tracks, then one deep-dive track. And for each, a favorite one-second moment with a timestamp.

Sion: Gateway tracks would be “holdon” and “homes.” Both have a very clear pop structure, so it’s much easier to digest than other songs on the EP.
“holdon” is a banger with electropop elements, so I feel like people who like EDM and pop will resonate with it. I especially like the complextro drop at the end (1:45).
“homes” is more of a rock-pop tune and I feel like it’s the most accessible tune on the record. I like the second verse because it reminds me of old pop-rock songs from the 2000s (1:51).
A deep-dive track would be “avoid2.” It has no real structure — I just focused on making each part stronger than the other, trying to stimulate my dopamine receptors. It might be difficult to digest on the first listen, but if you appreciate hybrid music and sound design you will love this one.
My favorite moment is the last riddim drop because it has a really weird groove (2:41).

Is there something the visuals communicate that the music alone can’t? A jacket, photo, or shot that carries an extra feeling.

Sion: I did a live performance video inside of a little van — I played on my DJ controller and sang with a bunch of autotune on my voice.
This experience of fun and improvised moments elevates the chaotic manner of the album much stronger than just listening to the album on its own.

Your fashion mood right now — colors, silhouettes, textures. Has it changed with your stage life or artwork?

Sion: A few years ago I used to be really into fashion — matching interesting pieces and digging through vintage archives. Nowadays it’s almost completely the opposite.
I usually like to wear stuff that I feel comfortable in, stuff that doesn’t interfere with my motions when I’m performing or working. My style has gotten a lot more cozy and chill.
Still, I tend to pick pieces that have some sort of fun factor while being comfortable.

Lastly: what’s your current favorite piece of clothing, and why?

Sion: I’m wearing a lot of hooded zip-ups. Easy to wear — and since I got a lot of social anxiety, wearing something hooded makes me feel a bit more comfortable.
My favorite zip-up right now is from a Japanese brand called GB Mouth.

The post INTERVIEW | Sion Instinct, detail, and a new center of gravity — how eigensinn found its shape first appeared on WEEAVE.

Two artists who released albums around the same time are stepping into the same night as the “main characters.”
Gokou Kuyt dropped his 1st album Ain’t Gang, while BHS Svve released his 4th album Pop Dilemma. On January 11, 2026, they will co-host “Super Release Party” at Veats Shibuya.

They first crossed paths on SoundCloud, and their connection multiplied across generations and scenes. One came up through the path of “Tokyo Shaman,” the other from the orbit of “DEMONIA.”

Introductions

Gokou Kuyt

“I do hip-hop—kind of—but when I was a teenager I got really into overseas cloud music. I started listening from places outside the mainstream, and that made me think, ‘I want to try making this too.’ Even now, it feels like I’m still on the same extension of that.”

BHS Svve

“Up until around high school, I didn’t really have many chances to listen to music. But MC battles were booming back then, and I thought, ‘If it’s rap, maybe even I can do it,’ so that’s how I started.
Now, I think there are two big lanes inside me. One is what you’d call more ‘rapper-like’—rap music that makes the listener feel strong. The other is music that has more of what you’d see in other genres: ‘empathy’ or ‘being there for you.’ Those two.”

“The first time I really clocked you was 2021” — the doorway was “sound”

-When did you feel you “properly recognized” each other?

Gokou Kuyt
“It’s kind of vague… I can’t remember which came first—hearing from friends like, ‘there’s this guy,’ or listening on SoundCloud.
But I do remember hearing the track on SoundCloud, thinking ‘this is sick,’ and hitting like. I think that was when I really recognized him.”

-Do you remember roughly how many years ago?

Gokou Kuyt
“Probably… 2021.”

BHS Svve
“I remember it pretty clearly because I was so happy. I’m from Sapporo, and when I was grinding as a ‘local MC battler,’ a senior told me, ‘There’s a rap scene in Tokyo too.’
I heard about the parties Shakabozu was doing (Tokyo Shaman) and thought, ‘So this kind of culture exists.’ And then they told me, ‘There’s also a dope rapper named Gokou Kuyt.’ That was the first time, and I think it was around 2018–2019.
For a while I just kept thinking, ‘He’s so cool—I want to meet him.’ Then in 2021, I got a like on SoundCloud from Kaito, and since I’d already been a fan, I reached out like, ‘Thank you.’ After I moved to Tokyo, I finally got to meet him properly—something like that.”

-So it started through SoundCloud?

BHS Svve
“Yeah. But we barely talked there—we just knew ‘this person exists’ through the sound first. The actual conversation came a bit later.”

First impressions of each other’s music

-When you heard the music, what impressions or images did you get—of each other’s tracks?

BHS Svve
“In Hokkaido, when you’re young, it can feel kind of closed-off. You can’t even afford travel costs to go to other prefectures, and you don’t really know where to get information.
When you say hip-hop, there’s this strong ‘origin’ idea—like Blue Herb, you know. I loved that too, but I was always struggling with the gap, thinking, ‘That’s not really me.’
Then I heard Kaito’s music for the first time… and the coolness of cutting out everyday life like that—it changed my fixed idea. It hit me like a shock.”

Gokou Kuyt
“I honestly think he’s the best rapper in the world. For real.
I’ve watched his MC battle videos too—he can do super hard, straight-up rap as well.
But when I first heard him on SoundCloud, I remember it being pretty melodic, like he’d pitched his vocals up. I was like, ‘Wait—he does this too?’ My image from friends was ‘he’s insanely strong in MC battles,’ so it surprised me.
Then (later) I listened to the album and it really floored me, and since then I’ve just been listening like normal.”

-If you had to pick one track from each other’s latest releases, what would it be?

-I’m sure you’ve both listened to each other’s work. If you had to name a “favorite track” from the other person’s album, what would it be?

BHS Svve
“Can I go first? Kaito’s Ain’t Gang is probably his first album, right.
To cut to the chase, my favorite is track 1, ‘AIN’T GANG INTRO.’ There are a bunch of reasons.
The previous release was probably about a year ago, and before that there was a pretty long gap, I think.
We hadn’t seen each other for a while, so I was wondering, ‘What’s going on with his activity?’ Then suddenly it was like, ‘Ain’t Gang is already done.’ And on top of that, I heard the whole thing was produced by DJ UPPERCUT—so I was like, ‘Wait, seriously?’
I’d heard a few tracks in advance, but when it finally dropped, the way it slams down the emotional movement since the Tokyo Shaman era, and the ‘Gokou Kuyt as an artist’—right at the opening—was shocking. Including that impact of ‘the album is starting,’ track 1 is my favorite.”

Gokou Kuyt
“That’s such a good comment… man, can I answer this right.
For me, ‘Yasuragi’ is my favorite—partly because I’m on it.
Also, a track like ‘Kushiki Kakuyou’ just feels like ‘BHS Svve’ to me. He’s had songs like that before, but somehow…
And then there are songs like the one that got a music video (‘10XL’)—with J-rock-ish, emotional lyrics and a melody that hits your heart.
It just made me think his range got wider than before, honestly.”

About the collaboration “Yasuragi”

-How did the decision come about to make the track you did together, “Yasuragi”?

BHS Svve
“Why was it again…
On Kaito’s mixtape that came out last year, the producer WTHR was involved too, and as a project it became like, ‘Let’s invite someone.’ But then it was like, of course—this is the first place to go.
We had the beat made, sent it over, traded verses, and then went to the studio, right. EVOEL STUDIO.
That day we had the original beat, but we were like, ‘Wouldn’t it be better if we raised it by a sixth?’ So we didn’t use any of the demo data—we recorded in the studio on the beat pitched up a sixth, and that’s what it became.”

-What kind of position does it hold within the album?

BHS Svve
“This time, there’s a part where I intentionally reduced features, but as lead tracks I think ‘10XL’ and ‘Yasuragi’ are the two pillars—and then ‘Login’ too. Those three are the ones I’m especially into.
I made the album wanting to expand my range, so I kept thinking, ‘Let’s do what I haven’t done before,’ and ‘Yasuragi’ is where that worked well. I think it’s a track that says, ‘This is what this album is.’”

Can you walk us through the core of the album-making process—and what you put into the titles?

BHS Svve
“Pop Dilemma is, like the title says, a ‘dilemma.’
In life and in making music, I often feel contradictions.
To me, the coolness of pop and the coolness of hip-hop are kind of opposed. But I love both, and it’s hard to get both.
And that’s not just music—like, you say you want to die but there are days you want to live, or you want to lose weight but you end up eating—there are tons of things like that. I think everyone carries it.
And it’s also ‘just a phenomenon.’ But I think resisting it—fighting back against it—is what’s cool, what’s precious.
So I made it trying to express: resisting the contradiction you feel is ‘cool’—that’s what pop is.”

Gokou Kuyt
“Ain’t Gang is literally just: I’m not a gang member.
Since around middle school, I’d always admired hip-hop—people rapping about scary stuff, having hard backgrounds, singing their ‘real.’ I always loved that.
But I don’t have that kind of backbone. I grew up in a pretty happy family, lived a normal life. So what I rap about ends up ordinary, and I’d think, ‘Maybe I can’t do hip-hop.’
I kept doing it while carrying this thing like, ‘It’s not real, is it,’ but at some point I realized: even people rapping about bad things are still cutting out pieces of their life and rapping them.
That act of cutting out and rapping—that’s hip-hop. I’m not a gang member, but it’s hip-hop. That’s the album I wanted to make.
Then I sent demos to DJ UPPERCUT and he said, ‘I want to do it,’ and he made all the beats from there.
He told me, ‘Most people live ordinary lives. That’s why what you’re doing can get empathy,’ and it gave me courage—like, it showed me what I should be doing.”

Why the release party is “super”:

-Did the two of you handle the booking?

Gokou Kuyt
“We did it together.”

-How did you arrive at this lineup?

BHS Svve
“At first it was like, our album timings are close, so let’s do a release party together. From there it became, ‘Let’s make it a special, huge release party.’
We started moving with the idea of inviting tons of artists we’re close with and making it big.
I think Kaito’s circle and my circle are slightly different generations. Kaito came up sharpening each other around the Tokyo Shaman path, and for me, I built friendships around DEMONIA after moving to Tokyo in 2022.
But if we call in our close friends, even if the core is the release party, it becomes a special event in a crossover way—so that’s how we booked it.”

“Only on this day, we’re the main characters” — respect for elders, and the will to surpass

-Was there a shared theme you were conscious of?

Gokou Kuyt
“For me, Shaka and people like that are huge seniors—almost like a master. Honestly, I feel like I still haven’t beaten them at anything.
But on this day, I’m the one closing the show. Because we’re the main characters.
Just for this day, there’s a theme in me—like, I want us to be the main characters more than anyone. Just my own thing.”

BHS Svve
“I feel almost exactly the same. I’m placed before him in the order, but since it’s a release party, I’m going in with the mindset that I’m the main character.
At the same time, it’s an honor to share a night with people I admired, and also the friends I’ve built around DEMONIA are coming out to ‘celebrate.’ So I feel like I have to answer that—on stage.”

1/11 is a “Jump Ultimate Stars” kind of day

-What do you want the audience to feel?

BHS Svve
“First, I think the fact that this lineup comes together at all is pretty special, so I want people to enjoy that.
Also, if everyone’s together, there’s a high chance you’ll see feature songs performed with the actual featured guests. Having that happen in a single day is rare. Stuff that usually only happens at a one-man show might happen.”

Gokou Kuyt
“Because it’s an event we threw ourselves, our sets are longer too. In a regular showcase, you’d end up finishing with just the new album tracks, but on a day like this we can do older songs too. I want to make a live show that people who listened to the old songs and people who listen to the new songs can both enjoy.”

BHS Svve
“Do you know Jump Ultimate Stars? Like Fist of the North Star and One Piece—it’s kind of fun when the generations are different, and even if you don’t know that manga, you can still fight together, right?
It’s similar to that: if you loved the scene from around 2017–2018 onward—before and after the pandemic, up to now—I think this is an event you can enjoy like an all-star lineup.”

What comes after the release party

-After the event, how do you want to move forward?

Gokou Kuyt
“For now, I’ve got songs coming together, so after the release party, I want to keep releasing—whether the next thing is an album or a mixtape, I’m not sure yet. I’d love to do something again next year too.”

BHS Svve
“I’ve already got, like, 30 or 40 songs just as demos.
Pop Dilemma is out, but I’m still in the middle of fighting the dilemma, you know. Up to now, I spent about two and a half years packing everything in to make this album, but I feel like after the release party it might get sublimated—so the pace could get really fast.
I want to increase my exposure and keep delivering new music.”

A message to attendees

BHS Svve
“Whether you used to come but drifted away, or you’re someone who’s been showing up consistently—if you come see this show, I think you’ll definitely have fun.
For me and Kaito too, I’d be happy if you can feel ‘where we are in 2026 right now’—what we’re seeing.”

Gokou Kuyt
“With the same feelings I had when I made the album, I hope something comes through about where we came from and what we’re aiming for.
It’s still a work in progress, but I want everyone to see the best we can do right now.”

BHS Svve
“A dilemma is cool, but I think it’s also painful. If someone comes who’s carrying something, I don’t just want to give a flex-style hype-up—I want to convey, through the event, ‘Everyone’s like that, and that’s what’s cool.’”

Bonus: questions for each other

BHS Svve
“Where do you buy clothes and stuff?”

Gokou Kuyt
“Mostly thrift. A lot of what I wear is stuff I got from a shop in Koenji called ‘Shinryoku.’”

BHS Svve
“I’m not super confident with clothes, so take me sometime.”

Gokou Kuyt
“Shinryoku too, but honestly, clothing stores have all kinds of stuff. There aren’t that many shops that narrow themselves down to one single super sharp direction.”

Gokou Kuyt
“By the way, do you have any plans to enter an MC battle soon? Do you still have the itch?”

BHS Svve
“I haven’t made any plans, but if I feel like it, I want to. If I get an offer, I’d totally do it.
I end up entering on the spur of the moment, you know.”

The post INTERVIEW | Gokou Kuyt × BHS Svve“Not Gang” Hip-Hop and “Defying Dilemmas” Pop — What Two Artists Confirmed on the Eve of Their Super Release Party first appeared on WEEAVE.

Back in junior high, he would spend his days at vintage shops in Koenji. Even when he couldn’t make it to school, there were people there who were “doing what they love,” and that’s where he first heard about Bunka Fashion College and started to picture a path in clothing. The brand Deadbooy is run by this 20-year-old designer.

Instead of just holding on to negativity as it is, he wanted to “stay as he is and still turn it into something positive.” He layered that feeling onto the image of a zombie and built his first collection from there. Color palettes where pop and darkness coexist, unexpected combinations of materials, and a strong sense of the body—of clothes that are actually meant to be worn. From talking about garments themselves, to his unease with Tokyo’s fashion and music scenes, to the view he’s aiming for five years from now, he spoke with striking honesty.

-First of all, for people who don’t know the brand yet: what kind of brand is Deadbooy? Could you briefly tell us about the concept and where the name comes from?

Deadbooy: In junior high I went through a pretty rough time with panic disorder and other mental things. Around then I started going to vintage shops in Koenji. I couldn’t go to school, but there were people there who were doing what they love, and I felt comfortable in that space. That’s also where I found out about Bunka Fashion College and thought, maybe I should try to go down the fashion path.

I did go to high school like normal, but I kept thinking, “You only get one shot, so I want to do what I like.” So I enrolled at Bunka and started the brand. I want to be able to turn things that feel negative into something positive without hiding who I really am.

From a place that feels like being “already dead,” coming back to life and crawling up again as a zombie—that’s the meaning behind “Deadbooy.” The first collection also started from that zombie concept.

-Once you decided to be on the making side, what has kept you going this far? What’s the driving force?

Deadbooy: I’ve got a really strong need for approval, and I honestly can’t stand watching other people get praised or achieve stuff (laughs). In high school, my childhood friend went on a dance audition TV show and suddenly everyone was hyping him up, and I just couldn’t accept it. I was like, “No, that should be me.” I definitely have that “me, me, me” side.

If I don’t stand out, I can’t even get on stage, and I can’t keep my cool—so I have to do it. If I were just someone who sits around being jealous, that’d be the end of it, but I’m actually moving and doing things, so in a way it turns into good energy. People like to dress this up when they talk, but I think everyone has some of that in them somewhere.

-If your tags were removed and your pieces were lined up with other brands, what would be the sign that tells people, “This is Deadbooy”?

Deadbooy: The way I use color, and the texture of the fabrics. At first glance things might look big, but when you actually see them they’re really cinched in—surprisingly compact. There’s a slight toy-like feeling; a mix of pop and dark that ends up feeling comfortable.

It’s not so extreme that it’s unwearable, but there’s still an edge. There’s also a sense of “shared coolness” that most people can get behind. That balance is what makes you go, “Yeah, that’s my brand.”

-Then if someone told you, “No color. You can only use black and white,” where would the Deadbooy-ness show up?

Deadbooy: In the graphics. I basically make them myself, using my friends’ faces or photos from fun moments. I stack them on top of each other almost randomly and abstract them. So even in monochrome, I think there’s still a clear way to set myself apart.

And then there’s the “vibe.” Like those T-shirts celebrating someone’s grandma, or those weird ’90s American vintage pieces you don’t really understand. That kind of inside joke—when you look back on it years later and it makes no sense, but that’s what makes it fun.

-When you design, where does the process usually start?

Deadbooy: I start from the concept. Sometimes it’s a seasonal theme, and because I’m still a student, sometimes it comes from a contest or a brief where you have to create “one complete thing.” The collection I’m working on now, for example, is themed around frogs.

For 25AW, because it was right when I’d just started, I wanted to express “coming back to life.” Things that are hard to look at, dirty, distorted—I just threw all of that together. But still with a sense of unity, so that it turns into something cool. That’s what I wanted to express, in life and in clothes.

-You’ve put out some pretty impactful pieces. Do you have a line where you think, “If I go past this, it’s too much”?

Deadbooy: I’m not really into things you can’t wear in daily life. There are pieces on the runway that are huge or don’t fit the body at all, and that’s fine for a show, but clothes are meant to be worn. I’m always conscious of that.

And when something turns into pure “art” to the point of forcing a value system on people, that feels wrong to me. I want there to be room for the person looking at it to imagine things. The main character should be the person wearing it. I want it to make people think, but not force one single interpretation on them.

-What’s the one thing you don’t want to change, no matter how many years go by?

Deadbooy: The idea of “turning dirty, negative things into something positive” is non-negotiable. I also don’t think I’ll ever stop combining materials that “aren’t supposed” to go together. Like mixing popcorn with cut-and-sewn fabric—that kind of feeling is something I want to keep.

-Where do you want to be in five years?

Deadbooy: I want to start a fashion movement that surpasses Paris Fashion Week. I want to do a solo collection show at Tokyo Dome. Fourty thousand people in the audience, to the point where it’s a social phenomenon.

If that happens, I feel like all the unnecessary ties and networks will just fall away. People will come because they want to see it; buyers will show up on their own. It doesn’t have to be a runway in the traditional sense—it could be a more theatrical, total production—but clothes will still be at the center, and everything will expand out from there.

-Have there been any moments recently when you felt, “Yeah, this really paid off”?

Deadbooy: Not long ago, my clothes took me overseas for the first time—two countries, China and Taiwan. Wearing my own brand, eating great food with my friends… having that kind of everyday life through clothes made me really happy.

I won prize money at a contest, took everyone to this amazing Chinese restaurant, and treated them all. We’ve been doing this together since high school, so there was a lot of emotion there. I even wrote them letters. Everyone got emotional and cried. When I first started, I was basically that kid with no friends, so it feels strange that things turned out like this. The best part might be that the brand has given me “friends who are always going to be there.”

-How do you see Tokyo’s fashion scene right now?

Deadbooy: Honestly, I don’t really pay attention to other people, so I don’t know that much. But I do feel like there are a lot of things that are just “too much.” As if being extreme is all that matters. There are a lot of people where I’m like, “Do you actually know clothes?”

I don’t feel like they’re staking their lives on it; I don’t feel any way of life behind it.

Most Japanese designers don’t hit me at all. There’s no momentum—it feels like “edge” that still stays safely on the rails. You make it, you sell it, you profit, and that’s the end. I don’t see what comes after. It makes me think, “There’s no culture in this.”

-On the other hand, which brands do you like?

Deadbooy: I love “99%IS-,” and I basically only own their clothes. Everyone in that team really cherishes the brand. Their friends wear pieces that resell for hundreds of thousands of yen to go out for yakiniku or to festivals—that kind of flex, where you can still feel real everyday life in it, is crazy to me.

There’s this pirate-like feeling—sticking to their own crew, their own inside jokes. They’ll use photos of some local punk band in a kind of parody way; that vibe is so cool. They don’t care about playing it safe. They’re sharp, but still within a range you can actually wear. The way they use color also makes you want to keep collecting the pieces.

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-You’re also very intentional about how you connect with music, including providing outfits for artists.

Deadbooy: I do that on purpose. There are things clothes alone can’t communicate. Clothes aren’t words, so there will always be parts that don’t fully reach people. By working with artists I think are cool, I hope those parts get across. I only offer pieces to people I truly think are cool.

-How do you see Tokyo’s music scene?

Deadbooy: It feels like it’s all about the beat winning. With sampling too—like sampling Vocaloid tracks, which you see a lot—I kind of feel like that “emo” feeling or purity should be created from scratch, you know?

It’s like people are just pouring the emotion of the original song straight into the beat to make it more accessible. If there’s a real conviction behind it, I can still like it, but I feel like a lot of people are getting it wrong. And there are a lot of fakes. I’ve had gifted clothes end up in secondhand shops… There are people whose actions totally contradict what they say. I think there are plenty of people who aren’t really singing about the truth.

Still, I hope more people move out of care for their friends and end up reaching others as something genuine. That goes for anything, not just music.

What he showed, again and again, was a stance of not running away—of staying and protecting what matters. He embraces dirt and distortion without slipping into self-indulgence. Even when his expression gets sharp and extreme, he never cuts the path that leads back from the extraordinary to the everyday. Maybe the reason his talk of “starting a movement” doesn’t sound far-fetched is because, in every word, you can sense how deeply he cares about that physical, lived reality.

The post Interview | Deadbooy — A “deadboy” who clawed his way up and seized the now first appeared on WEEAVE.

]]> https://weeavemagazine.com/2025/12/07/interview-noridogam-silica-gels-kim-chunchu-inside-the-korean-field-guide-to-play-solo-project-and-the-truthbuster-tour/ Sun, 07 Dec 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://weeavemagazine.com/?p=2960 Best known as a member of Silica Gel, one of the key bands in Korea’s indie scene, Kim Chunchu also writes and records under his solo moniker Noridogam. Borrowing its name from a childhood “field guide to play,” the project quietly threads together folk, 60s–70s pop, and psychedelia, turning small, fleeting moments from everyday life […]

The post INTERVIEW | Noridogam (Silica Gel’s Kim Chunchu): Inside the Korean “Field Guide to Play” Solo Project and the Truthbuster Tour. first appeared on WEEAVE.

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Best known as a member of Silica Gel, one of the key bands in Korea’s indie scene, Kim Chunchu also writes and records under his solo moniker Noridogam. Borrowing its name from a childhood “field guide to play,” the project quietly threads together folk, 60s–70s pop, and psychedelia, turning small, fleeting moments from everyday life into songs that are concise, beautiful, and disarmingly intimate. Ahead of “Truthbuster the Tour,” which connects Seoul with Tokyo and Osaka, we sat down with him to trace how this private “playground” called Noridogam has taken shape, and what kind of thoughts currently lie at its center.

To begin with, could you tell us about the meaning behind the name “Noridogam” and what kind of “play” you had in mind when you first started this project?

The name “Noridogam” comes from the title of a book I used to see every time I visited my cousin’s house when I was a child. The original title means “Asobijukan,” and it’s a book by a Japanese author, but in Korea we read it as Nori-dogam, “a field guide to play.” It contains all kinds of outdoor and indoor games, organized almost like an illustrated encyclopedia.

The way I work on music—being alone with my instruments and gear, creating my own little “catalogue of play”—felt very similar to the games in that book. I think that’s why I ended up using this name for my solo project.

You’re also known for your work with Silica Gel, but if we focus just on Noridogam, what feels most different about how you express yourself in this project compared to the band?

Silica Gel is, for me, both my main career and my life, something I’ve been building with my bandmates—who I could even call my brothers—ever since my twenties. Within that system, I participate as one part of the whole, taking on a few specific “roles.”

Noridogam, on the other hand, is purely my own expression. It’s a project where you can directly see the personal thoughts and direction of me, the musician Kim Chunchu. So I feel much less restrained in how I express myself (separate from the musical “color” itself), and when it comes to my activities or the things I choose to run into on purpose, I allow myself to try them more freely.

Looking back from your first solo releases around 2019 up to now, is there a particular song, record, or moment that you feel was a real turning point for Noridogam?

I think I would have to say the song “무지개 (Rainbow).” In Korea, that track became relatively well-known among a broader audience. I believe the music video was one of the big reasons for that.

It’s not that I suddenly began to feel that “the music video itself is the most important thing,” but it showed me that the public’s response to the kind of song I like—“concise, beautiful, and short”—was actually not bad at all. In other words, it gave me confidence in my slightly maniacal taste of “I want people to like the things that I like.”

Since then, when I write songs, I’ve been able to trust myself a bit more.

People often hear elements of folk, 60–70s pop, and psychedelia in your music as Noridogam. In your own words, what kind of musical “lineage” do you feel this project belongs to, and which artists or works have inspired you the most recently?

I think the two main criteria for music I listen to are:

1. songs I want to listen to over and over, and
2. methods of expression I’d like to try putting into my own music.

These two things have shaped me into someone who enjoys experimental and avant-garde music, but who is ultimately drawn to seeking out more “genre-based,” legacy-oriented music. Because of that, I tend to pay close attention to the kind of lineage you just mentioned.

So, not only recently but continuously, I listen a lot to Japanese musicians from that era, especially the works of Haruomi Hosono and the many records that carry his production touch. Albums by Yumi Arai have also influenced me a great deal. There are artists like Steely Dan, The Beatles, and Emitt Rhodes as well.

Among 21st-century musicians who have directly inherited those influences, and especially in the realm of post-punk or “haunted pop,” where things sometimes drift into being too acoustic, I draw inspiration from artists like Ariel Pink and John Maus to add a bit more color to that direction.

As Noridogam, you often handle songwriting, performance, and even recording by yourself. What are the most rewarding parts of doing everything alone, and what are the toughest parts?

Working alone actually makes me feel much freer than working with other people or engineers. I’m fully aware that, historically, music is something that passes through the hands of many different contributors—composers, performers, engineers, and so on. But at a fundamental level, I want to approach my work more like a painting: an artwork directly shaped by the artist’s own hands.

That probably comes from my father’s influence. He majored in Korean painting and worked as a special-effects makeup artist, so I grew up close to that kind of craft. Because of that, the freedom I feel, and the time I get back as experience through the process of working alone, are extremely precious to me.

photo by Hayato Watanabe

On the other hand, working alone is both great for filling the music with many sides of myself and, at the same time, limiting in terms of expression and ideas. To address that, on the album Truthbuster, which will be released on March 17, I recorded together with various musician friends who are also joining this tour. I think that allowed a slightly more complex palette of colors to enter the music.

Many Noridogam songs feel like they capture very small, fragile moments from everyday life. How do you usually collect those moments, and at what point do you decide, “Okay, this should become a song”?

Whenever I have time, I pick up my guitar or hum melodies. If something comes out that I like, I record it on my phone and later take it out again to listen. When a particular situation or thought leaves a strong impression on me, I jot it down in a memo.

Looking at it that way, I think those “sudden thoughts” that come from everyday life are a really important element in my music. I sometimes think of them as something like essays. Maybe that’s why my songs contain impressions and fragments of stories that even I can’t fully define.

Rather than stating clearly what those thoughts are, it’s more like leaving a record that says, “I just happened to feel this way,” and wanting to share that record with other people.

With “Truthbuster the Tour,” you’ll be playing in Seoul, Tokyo, and Osaka. What would you say are the key things people should pay attention to if they want to really experience a Noridogam live show on this tour?

On this tour, I’d like the audience to feel a stronger sense of “closeness.” By that, I mean both physical distance and the atmosphere of a natural, free performance, where the stage where the music is played, the instruments in the musicians’ hands, and the moments created by the ensemble between me and the band members can be felt more directly by the audience.

That’s the part I personally find most moving when I watch other musicians’ shows, so I really want to convey that feeling as directly as possible.

Within this tour, how do you see the upcoming show in [CITY / DATE] in particular? Is there anything, in terms of setlist, atmosphere, or how you want to use the venue, that you’d like to do differently compared to the other dates?

First of all, the show in Seoul will have a relatively longer running time, so we’re planning to perform as many different songs as possible.

In Tokyo and Osaka, because of the characteristics of the venues, each show will have an intermission and be divided into two “acts.” We’re currently preparing a structure that lets us play as many songs as we can while still allowing the first and second halves to flow naturally into each other.

Also, Blue Note Place and Blue Yard are quite different from a typical live house, so I’m really looking forward to how close the breathing between the stage and the audience will feel there.

Through Silica Gel, you’ve already played shows and festivals outside of Korea. How has that experience of performing abroad with the band influenced the way you see things and the way you create music as Noridogam?

As we’ve gradually played more shows overseas, I’ve come to feel that “live performance” is one of the most powerful weapons a musician can have. As a music fan myself, I love listening to recordings, but there’s nothing that delivers a band’s music as intensely as seeing them perform right in front of you.

So, when I work on Noridogam’s music, I always try to balance two things: imagining how the songs will be performed on stage, and exploring the expanded possibilities of expression in recorded form. Usually, the former leads me to choices like keeping the live arrangement more minimal, while the latter leads to choices like layering various instruments in the studio.

Through your shows in Japan and the response from Japanese listeners and media, what kind of “connection” or chemistry do you feel between Noridogam’s music and the Japanese audience so far?

I haven’t had that many chances to perform in Japan as Noridogam yet, so I feel there’s still a lot of exchange to be made. But I do sense some differences between Japanese and Korean audiences in how they experience live shows.

For example—though of course this isn’t true for everyone—my impression of Korean audiences is that many people are part of a very strong fan base, which makes the energy in the venue extremely hot. Based on my experiences in Japan, I’ve felt that many people, regardless of age or gender, simply come to the live house itself to enjoy music.

I feel that’s one of the differences between the two, and because of that, I’m expecting there will be quite a few people who are seeing Noridogam live for the first time. I really want to leave a good impression on them. I’m sure that Japanese music fans will enjoy Noridogam’s style.

Are there any books, films, games, or even specific places you’re into right now that might help people understand who you are as Noridogam at this moment?

I really like games, and I also love Japanese games, IPs, and manga. Recently I reread Tanabata no Kuni by Iwaaki Hitoshi, who is well known for works like Parasyte and Historie. I’m such a big fan of his that I reread his works quite often.

In both your band and solo activities, do you have any personal “rules” or little rituals that you always try to keep?

I’m the kind of person who thinks a lot. Ever since I was young, I’ve been the type to plan things extremely thoroughly and prepare for a long time. That has the advantage of letting me anticipate and prepare for various situations, but on the other hand, I also have memories of missing good timing because I wasn’t very good at actually putting those plans into action.

So, after becoming an adult, I started telling myself, “Rather than thinking too much, let’s act first and then respond quickly to whatever unexpected things come up.” I’d say that’s one of my most important mottos.

Lastly, is there anything you would like to say to listeners in Japan, and to people who might be discovering Noridogam for the first time through this interview?

It feels like this turned into quite a long interview, but I hope it has answered some of the questions that Japanese music fans, and those who already knew Noridogam, might have had.

For those who are meeting me for the first time through this piece, I’d be very happy if you could look forward to my music, the upcoming singles, and the album that will be released on March 17. I hope we can meet again through streaming platforms and at future shows in Japan. Thank you very much.

Rather than overthinking until the timing is gone, take the first step—and then stay nimble in the face of whatever happens next. The personal motto Kim Chunchu shared in this interview feels deeply connected to the gentle intensity that runs through Noridogam’s records and live performances. With new singles on the way and the album Truthbuster set for release on March 17, there will soon be more pages to turn in his own “field guide to play.” For listeners in Japan who are meeting Noridogam now, this feels like the perfect moment to start following those small, fragile moments he turns into song.

The post INTERVIEW | Noridogam (Silica Gel’s Kim Chunchu): Inside the Korean “Field Guide to Play” Solo Project and the Truthbuster Tour. first appeared on WEEAVE.

]]> https://weeavemagazine.com/2025/11/22/pami-on-her-debut-album-a-joke-a-puff-and-a-punch/ Sat, 22 Nov 2025 10:00:00 +0000 https://weeavemagazine.com/?p=2953 After our first chat, we caught up with pami once more over Zoom to talk about her debut album. This time, the focus was entirely on the music—her process, her personal favorites, and the emotional journey behind the tracklist. What emerged was an honest portrait of an artist who plays between softness and surprise. Below […]

The post pami on her debut album — “a joke, a puff, and a punch” first appeared on WEEAVE.

]]> After our first chat, we caught up with pami once more over Zoom to talk about her debut album. This time, the focus was entirely on the music—her process, her personal favorites, and the emotional journey behind the tracklist. What emerged was an honest portrait of an artist who plays between softness and surprise. Below is the full conversation, edited lightly for clarity but true to her voice and lowercase style.

If you had to describe your whole album in just one sentence, what would you say?

pami:

I’d say… joke and smoke. Yes, joke and smoke—because I think that really sums up the feeling of the album.
Some songs feel like a joke, like “pity dirty” or “kiss me blue.” They’re playful. But then others just vanish, like smoke—There’s something funny, and something fragile. That’s the world I wanted to show.

The album has so many types of songs. Which one feels like the true “heart” of the record for you?

pami:

There are 10 songs and lots of styles—some are synth-pop, like “kiss me blue,” some lean more alternative rock, like “candydate,” and others are bedroom pop mixed with R&B, like “pity dirty.”

But the hardest one—the most emotional one—was “highway.” It’s one of the four new songs, and it was the very last one I finished.

At first, I had no idea what to write. It was hard because I was also rushing to meet the deadline. The original demo came from last year, but it didn’t work.

I rewrote it five or six times, and finally, in the last three days before the deadline, I finished it. Now, it’s one of my favorites.

That sounds intense. Which song came out super quickly in contrast?

pami:

Definitely “kiss me blue.” And also “call my dad”—that one was so fast.
It took just two days to write the melody and lyrics, and the production took maybe one week. That was really quick.

But “highway”… yeah, that was different.

Even though we also finished it in three days, it felt long because of how many times I had to restart it. I had major writer’s block with that one.

In the end, I just followed the melody. I didn’t think too much—I just let it happen. I sent it to my executive producer, and he said, “This works.”

I’m really proud of that song.

Let’s talk abstract—what’s the “texture” of this album to you?

pami:

Texture? Hmm… I’d say puffy.

Something small and fluffy—but with impact. Like, imagine a puff that can suddenly explode.

It’s kind of like a girl’s emotion. You feel sad and angry inside, but you don’t want to show it in a big way.

So it’s like… this face (she gestures)—you hold it in. That’s what “perfect” feels like to me. It’s soft, but intense.

You mentioned the album has many genres. How did you decide the track order—from the first to the last song?

pami:

I wanted to start with something friendly. That’s why “kiss me blue” is first—it’s easy to listen to, and kind of sweet.

You know, if you meet someone and they cry the moment they see you, you’d be like “Wait—what?” So I didn’t want to scare people away with something too sad at the start.

Then, as you go deeper into the album, you get to the sadder songs—like “lie,” “highway,” “not yet.” I wanted the listener to get to know me slowly.

By the end, with “candydate” and “covent garden,” things get a bit more fun again.

And finally, I placed “let it out” as the last track. It’s super different from the rest. It’s more folk, and I wanted it to “clean the ears.”

Like, after all the drama, you can just relax and not think too much.

It’s like a course meal—you start light, go deep, pay the bill, and go home.

“highway” might be dessert. “candydate” is when you see the bill. And “let it out” is when your mom says, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it.” 

If someone’s listening to you for the first time, which three songs would you recommend?

pami:

Let me pick… four. (laughs)

First, “kiss me blue.” It’s like me in the center. The balance point.

Then, “lie.” That’s a very different side of me. The one that lies to herself, like, “Maybe I do love this person, maybe I’ll do anything for him.”

Next, “call my dad.” That one’s very sarcastic. Like, “Nothing will calm me down—I’m calling my dad.” It’s bratty, in a funny way.

And finally, “highway.” It’s the saddest one. The most vulnerable version of me.

I think it’s okay for girls to feel like that sometimes—weak and soft. I like that about it.

I didn’t choose “pity dirty” even though I love it too. That one’s kind of a secret version of me.

Across two interviews, one thing about pami becomes clear: she writes with a fluffy hand and a sharp heart.

Her debut album sways between sarcasm and sorrow, between jokes and smoke.
Start with “kiss me blue,” then fall into “lie,” spin through “call my dad,” and let “highway” run right through your chest.
She’ll likely surprise you. And just when you think you’ve got her, she’ll puff into smoke—and come back laughing.

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