Tuesday, April 8
I got a little more sleep than the night before—just a little.
Still, I wasn’t in any shape to be moving around too energetically.
After breakfast at the hotel, we checked out at 10 am We had a bit of time before KEXP shooting, so we decided to do a bit of exploring in Seattle.
One of our stops was a thrift store that Mikey had wanted to check out. There was a crate of records tucked in the back, and I felt that little rush—my first dig since landing in the States. On our European tour, I’d made it a ritual to stop by a record store in every city. It’s become an essential part of traveling for me. Almost like a ceremony.
Landing in a new city and stepping into a local record store—there’s a kind of rhythm to it. A pattern that’s taken on meaning over time. By touching the records that once played in this city, I feel like I’m offering a small gesture of respect. Like I’m acknowledging the place properly. Fulfilling my duty as someone who’s arrived from the outside.
Since this wasn’t a specialty record shop, the prices were way cheaper than in Japan. And the selection was surprisingly good. (Record prices back home have gotten pretty out of hand lately.)
After reuniting with Kita-san, we loaded up the car and headed out. Before going to KEXP, we made a quick stop at the home of Nick from Sub Pop to pick up the merch we’d shipped from Japan. We were staying at his place that night, too.
His house looked like it belonged to someone who’d carved out a real place in the music world. A classic American home with a beautiful garden dotted with butterflies. The room we’d be sleeping in was also a listening room, lined wall-to-wall with what must’ve been tens of thousands of records, plus a massive stereo setup. I had a feeling I’d sleep well there. After saying a quick hello to Nick, we were back in the car—it was just a few minutes to our next destination.
Just as we arrived at the KEXP studio, the clouds parted and the sun finally came out for the first time since we’d arrived in the States. The light spilled across the streets, soft and pale. It made me breathe out without realizing.
The moment we stepped into the studio, we were surrounded by soft LED lighting and a dreamlike mood. It didn’t feel real. Something strange was happening in my life, and I couldn’t settle down.
The crew started setting up right away. A nice green room had been prepared for us, but I couldn’t just sit there. I needed to be near my instrument. Wrapped in gorgeous sound and that mysterious atmosphere, time seemed to dissolve. Before I knew it, the session was over. It already felt like a fading dream. Even if the video ends up on YouTube, I probably won’t watch it. I’d rather keep the memory hazy, just for myself.
Near the studio entrance, there was a photo of Kikagaku Moyo on display. I wondered if we’d leave something behind like that one day.
After the shoot, we quickly packed up, took some photos, and loaded our gear back into the car. The goodbye was so brisk, it only added to the dreamlike feeling. A giant rainbow arched across the sky, as if to underline it all.
It was a short drive to Neumos, the venue for our Seattle show. Right in the heart of downtown, it could hold about 600 people. We arrived and immediately began loading in. Looking at the clock, we realized there was only an hour left before doors opened. We had to do our soundcheck and set up the merch table in that short window. Everything was moving fast—efficient and dry. It hit me all over again: we were really on tour in the U.S.
Soon the venue opened and people began to trickle in. But the vibe was different from Japan.
Back home, people line up before the venue opens. Once inside, they quietly claim their spots and wait patiently for the show to start.
Here, folks come in whenever they feel like it during the hour between doors and showtime. Some arrive early, some wander in halfway through, and some don’t show up until the show’s already started. Even during our opening set, people were still entering the venue and chatting casually. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.
When our set began, the room was only half full. It made me nervous. Still, we took the stage and started playing. A few minutes in, I noticed the room had filled up. Maybe the sound had drawn them in.
Compared to the tension I’d felt at KEXP, I was much more relaxed here. As I played, I scanned the audience. Were they feeling it? Were they moving? In the haze of stage lights and smoke, I couldn’t tell. The crowd seemed stiff, and it unsettled me.
Then we finished our first song—and a wave of cheers erupted.
That was it. I remembered.
That surge we’d felt in Europe. That strange, soul-shaking energy. It shot through my body, energy I didn’t think I had left. It couldn’t have come from me—I was too tired. It had to have come from the crowd, transmitted through the air. In that moment, the laws of physics didn’t apply. Energy conservation meant nothing in the relationship between artist and audience. Music had fought to earn that freedom. The smoke rising on stage seemed to carry the memory of that struggle.
Yes—this is why we play music. For that freedom.
After our set, people lined up at the merch table. Compliments poured in one after another—so many I couldn’t take them all in. I don’t remember what was said, exactly. Just that the whole space was full of joy.
The show had been a huge success. With that relief came total mental shutdown. I drifted off somewhere as the main act, Etran de L’Aïr from Niger, took the stage.
What followed was a storm of African rhythms blasting from the PA. Tight yet loose, a hypnotic groove that pulled the crowd into something ancient. I was totally transfixed when Mikey tapped me on the shoulder. He motioned for me to follow him backstage.
From the wings, we had a perfect view of Etran’s drummer. Mikey leaned in and whispered:
“Drummer is SAIKOU (Best).”
Even after their set, people were still crowding the merch booth. We had no idea how many records or shirts we’d sold. But one thing was clear: the night had been a massive success.
We made $3,300 from the Seattle show—that’s about ¥470,000 [$3,300 USD]. Our daily goal for the tour was around ¥170,000 [$1,200 USD], so we’d crushed it.
We started the tour in the red—about ¥2.28 million [$16,000 USD] in the hole. Now we only had ¥1.85 million [$13,000 USD] left to cover. At this pace, we might actually break even by the second half of the tour.
The first night left us with a strange sense of hope—so bright, it almost didn’t feel real.
To be continued…
See the full series index here.
maya ongaku US TOUR dates 2025
Apr 08 Seattle, WA, US｜Neumos
Apr 09 Bellingham, WA, US｜The Shakedown
Apr 10 Victoria, BC, Canada｜Wicket Hall
Apr 11 Vancouver, BC, Canada｜The Pearl
Apr 12 Portland, OR, US｜Wonder Ballroom
Apr 14 Chico, CA, US｜Argus Bar + Patio
Apr 15 Oakland, CA, US｜The New Parish
Apr 17 San Luis Obispo, CA, US｜SLO Brew Rock
Apr 18 Jacumba Hot Springs CA, US｜Jacumba Hot Springs Hotel
Apr 19 Los Angeles (LA), CA, US｜Teragram Ballroom
Apr 20 Flagstaff, AZ, US｜Coconino Center for the Arts
Apr 22 Santa Fe, NM, US｜Tumbleroot Brewery & Distillery
Apr 23 Oklahoma City, OK, US｜Resonant Head
Apr 24 Austin, TX, US｜APF 25: Kickoff Party
maya ongaku
maya ongaku is a three-piece band formed in 2021 by Tsutomu Sonoda, Ryota Takano, and Shoei Ikeda, hailing from a coastal village near Enoshima, Japan. Rooted in an organic, psychedelic sound that feels both grounded and untethered, their music draws from collective improvisation and the atmosphere of their local music scene.
The band’s name—maya ongaku—is a coined term, not taken from ancient history, but imagined as a landscape beyond the visible frame, hinting at the spiritual and the unseen. The group sees their beginning as a kind of spontaneous emergence—like life arising from non-life—something that simply happened, without pretense or planning.
In May 2023, they released their debut album ‘Approach to Anima’ via Guruguru Brain and Bayon Production, followed by a successful EU/UK tour in November and a domestic tour across Japan in December.
Their latest EP ‘Electronic Phantoms’ was released in August 2024. That same month, they hosted “rhythm echo noise” in collaboration with WWW, inviting Dutch artist Felbm to Tokyo. The band was also named Best Breakthrough Artists at the inaugural TOKYO ALTER MUSIC AWARD 2024, a new platform highlighting emerging voices from Tokyo’s independent scene.
maya ongaku has performed at major Japanese festivals such as Mori, Michi, Ichiba, FFKT, FUJI ROCK, Asagiri JAM, and FUJI & SUN. Internationally, they have appeared at festivals in Korea and China, steadily expanding their presence in Asia and beyond.
maya ongaku ｜ linktr.ee/maya_ongaku
Instagram ｜ https://www.instagram.com/maya_ongaku/?hl=ja
X ｜ https://twitter.com/maya_ongaku
