Singer-songwriter ena mori has carved a unique musical path, blending diverse sounds with a foundation in electropop. Born in Japan and moving to the Philippines alone at just 15, she’s now based there, creating waves across the globe. Her 2022 album, DON’T BLAME THE WILD ONE!, was crowned #1 on NME’s The 25 Best Asian Albums of 2022, cementing her reputation as a trailblazer in Asian music and capturing international attention.
Beyond her thriving presence in the Philippines, ena mori is making her mark worldwide, performing at global festivals and live events while intensifying her music activities in Japan. In July, her collaborative single with Tomggg, Nantene, became the theme for a new Pocari Sweat commercial, showcasing her rising momentum. Reflecting on her journey, ena mori opened up about embracing her childhood fears and loneliness with kindness, revealing a heartfelt connection to the music she creates today.
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A singer-songwriter and artist with roots in both Japan and the Philippines, ena mori debuted in 2020 with her EP ena mori. In 2022, she released her first full-length album, DON’T BLAME THE WILD ONE!, which earned the Best Album Award at the Awit Awards 2023 and topped NME’s The 25 Best Asian Albums of 2022. She continues to garner attention as a rising star in the music world.
The Struggle to Belong: A Challenging Childhood in Japan
Today, we’d like to explore your journey so far, diving into your connection with music and the messages you weave into your songs. Let’s start by going back to your childhood—what were some things you loved, and how was your relationship with your family?
ena mori: From a young age, I was captivated by sounds. Everyday noises like trains passing, waves crashing by our house, or even the sound of stones skipping across water fascinated me. My mom played piano as a hobby, so we had one at home. Apparently, when I was six, I spontaneously started playing one of my grandfather’s favorite songs, and that’s when my piano journey began. I also loved the music that played on the car radio during rides with my grandfather. It seems sound has always been something I connected with deeply.
Many kids start piano lessons because their parents push them into it, but it seems like you had a more self-driven approach?
ena mori:Yes, I picked it up on my own, and my parents were like, “Why not? Let her do it!” [laughs]. Beyond the piano, I was drawn to violin sounds and even electronic tones. Looking back, I realize I’ve always been curious about exploring different soundscapes.
It sounds like your family gave you a lot of freedom to follow your interests. How about friendships during that time?
ena mori: Being half Japanese and half Filipino made it hard for me to fit in, so I didn’t have many friends. Especially during elementary and middle school, I struggled to understand my identity. I wanted to embrace being mixed-race, but I also tried desperately to blend in as just Japanese. My appearance didn’t give me away, but my name did, and I often got teased for it. Looking back now, I see how much energy I wasted trying to belong, but those experiences also helped me embrace and cherish my identity more deeply today.
One of my closest friends back then was bisexual, and although I’m heterosexual, we shared a profound understanding of what it felt like to be different. Outside of that friendship, there weren’t many people who were open about their sexuality or who shared a mixed heritage. I often felt lost, unsure of who I was or where I fit in, and those feelings were incredibly difficult to navigate at the time.

How did you deal with the struggle of wanting to fit in but feeling like you couldn’t?
ena mori: It was a tough cycle back then. I tried to mimic what everyone else was doing and forced myself to like what they liked. I loved classical music, but over time, I started to wonder if playing classical piano was considered uncool. To blend in, I put on an act and pretended to be into J-pop, masking who I really was.
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Reclaiming Identity: The Journey to the Philippines at 15
You moved to the Philippines at 15 under those circumstances. Choosing to make such a big decision at that age must have been significant. What do you think was the driving force behind taking that action?
ena mori:For me, moving to the Philippines felt like a natural progression. But looking back, I think part of the motivation was my desire to learn more about the identity I had been hiding. My father had come to Japan from the Philippines, and I was genuinely curious about what the Philippines was like. At that time, living in Japan felt suffocating. I realized that continuing to live while hiding my true self meant I couldn’t learn to love myself, and I thought moving would give me a fresh start.
Also, starting around the age of 11, I began listening to Western music, influenced by my father, and I was greatly impacted by QUEEN. Despite their music being rooted in classical elements, I was drawn to their rock and roll sound. I admired Freddie Mercury’s fearless, innovative performances and found myself more and more captivated by Western music. It made me think that if I wanted to learn English, leaving Japan would be the best step, and I started to consider moving to the Philippines positively.
I also developed an admiration for international artists when I was a teenager. In my case, I struggled with my sexuality and felt that people like me wouldn’t be accepted in Japan. However, watching foreign dramas and movies, I saw characters with similar identities and realized that there were places abroad where I could live comfortably. With Western music, there are fewer people who would judge you for listening to a particular artist based on whether you were “acting like a boy or a girl,” so it felt like a safe haven for me. For you, ena mori, was the Philippines one of the places you considered as a way to reclaim yourself?
ena mori: Yes, that’s right. I wanted to leave Japan, but I also wanted to respect my parents and not cause them too much trouble. So, when I thought about what was feasible, I decided to try living in the Philippines, where my father’s family is from. Looking back, I think it was more about finding my place and searching for myself than it was about language study. It wasn’t so much that Japan was the problem; it was that my environment and the negative cycle I was in just didn’t suit me at the time. I was raised in an atmosphere where you couldn’t assert yourself, and if you did anything different from others, people would give you disapproving looks. Maybe that’s why I felt I needed to search for myself.
Did the feeling of not fitting in while living in Japan change after you started living in the Philippines?
ena mori: I used to occasionally speak English with my father, but I managed with middle school-level English for a long time, so I really felt the language barrier when I moved to the Philippines. I also had to rebuild my friendships from scratch, which was challenging, but music played a huge role in helping me through that time. I was able to make friends through music, and I spent more time connecting with the music I loved.
Did living as a half-Mixed-Biracial person in the Philippines feel any different or affect you in any way?
ena mori: It did matter to me quite a bit. It was different from when I was in Japan; people didn’t just leave me alone [laughs]. But everyone was very open-minded and interested. They were curious and wanted to hear my story.
Back in Japan, I really hated wanting to hide that I was half-Japanese or feeling like I could never be a “real” Japanese. But in the Philippines, people were fascinated by the fact that I had both Filipino and Japanese heritage. They would say, “Wow! You have both Filipino and Japanese blood! What’s your story?” That interest helped me start to gain confidence in my mixed identity, and my mindset began to change for the better.
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Music as a Conversation with My Younger Self: Writing Lyrics to Put an End to Anxieties and Hardships
What inspired you to officially start your music career while spending time in the Philippines and rediscovering yourself and your passions?
ena mori: I always loved creating music and continued doing so without any intention of sharing it with others. In college, I studied music production, and when I was assigned a project to create an EP for my graduation, I decided to try singing for the first time. At first, I was resistant to the idea of singing myself; I thought about making an EP focused on piano, which I was more confident with. However, I felt that it would be a missed opportunity not to take the challenge, so I casually made a three-track EP.
My teacher at school really liked it, and with encouragement from those around me, I independently released a couple of tracks. That led to people suggesting I try performing live, which connected me with more people and marked the beginning of my music career.

Your music often features a sound that is very pop and catchy, but when you look at the lyrics, they reflect deep emotions stemming from inner dialogue. Many of your songs talk openly about anxiety and fear but also express a wish for liberation. What drives you to embed these messages into your music?
ena mori: When I moved to the Philippines, I did so alone, without family or friends, which meant I spent a lot of time by myself. In that situation, I realized that if I didn’t stay strong and centered, I could end up losing myself. It would have been pointless to come to the Philippines if I just repeated the same negative cycles I had in Japan, drifting through life not knowing what I loved.
So, I began to reflect deeply on myself to build confidence. Over time, I started writing lyrics about the anxieties I felt as a child and the pain of change, and in doing so, I found a way to put an end to that anxiety and pain—a kind of therapeutic process for myself.
It sounds like this work is also a way of caring for your inner child. By expressing those past feelings through your music, it seems like you’re also helping your younger self find comfort.
ena mori: Yes, I think so. Writing about my past feelings in lyrics doesn’t exactly mean liberation, but it gives me a sense of closure. At the same time, I hope it resonates with others who feel the same way I did when I was younger. I always write lyrics with the hope of creating songs that I would have wanted to hear as a child.
What do you mean by “closure” instead of “liberation”?
ena mori: Well… it feels like an analysis. It’s like, “Why did I think this way?” or “Looking back, I felt this way at the time.” It’s a way of giving myself credit. I believe that every action has a reason behind it, and by examining my emotions and behaviors from back then, I can come to understand them. This understanding makes things that were once embarrassing and hard to think about no longer difficult. That process was essential for me, too.

I see. Your comment about “writing lyrics feels like therapy” makes perfect sense. I also feel that “loneliness” is a recurring theme in your music. Do you currently have places or communities where you don’t feel lonely?
ena mori: My music, and the music of other artists around me, often resonates with people who are unique or a bit different, including those in the LGBTQ+ community. While the topics may vary, there are so many areas where we can relate to feelings of loneliness or struggle. It’s about creating safe spaces where people can be emotionally open and accepted. That kind of mutual understanding and neutrality is very strong. These art-based communities are really important to me.
When sharing your emotional side with others, it can sometimes be difficult because you might think, “If I say this, it could make the other person feel bad, too.” However, I sense that you connect and communicate with various individuals and communities through your music. I particularly like the song “SOS,” which I think might come across as an anthem for the LGBTQ+ community to some listeners. I find that the way it expresses the feeling of loneliness from pressure and a sense of confinement, crying out “I need help,” is something many people in the LGBTQ+ community can relate to.
ena mori: Really? That makes me so happy to hear.
I also find that many of your artworks have a drag-inspired visual style. Are there any LGBTQ+ communities or artists that have influenced you?
ena mori: I might not openly identify as queer, but I really admire Prince. During a time when there was so much prejudice, he stayed true to himself and created provocative music by blending masculinity and femininity, which I deeply respect. I was also very drawn to artists like Cher and Björk, who are considered gay icons. I went through a period of exploring my own sexuality, and those artists were incredibly inspiring and comforting to me. Björk, in particular, is like a hero to me. Even though she has a childlike side, she sings so openly about the struggles of growing up and her own sexuality.
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Embracing the Unheard: Connecting with the Sounds That Only Reveal Themselves When You Listen Intentionally
During a previous appearance on Able Asia, you mentioned that you often start with the melody when creating songs and then add the lyrics later. What kind of impact do you think adding feelings of childhood anxiety and current fears to a pop melody has on your music?
ena mori: Personally, I love songs that have a gap between a happy-sounding melody and deeply sad lyrics; those are the songs that resonate with me the most. By making it pop, there’s an aspect where it doesn’t need to be taken too seriously, but at the same time, I believe that talking about deep things in a pop format allows me to convey my message to others in the most direct way. I hope that by reaching people with a catchy pop melody, some of them will take the time to read the lyrics—it would mean a lot to me.
On Able Asia, you mentioned that you keep a daily journal and sometimes draw inspiration for lyrics from it. Where do you find your melodies and sounds?
ena mori: For example, with “SOS,” I was inspired by the sound of sirens used in 1960s movies. I also resonate with the unnatural, forced smiles in 1960s TV shows and commercials. I interpret it as an attempt to create happiness in a society that was growing and recovering after the war. That feeling of forced positivity really inspired me.
Additionally, I record and collect sounds that catch my attention in daily life. I enjoy listening to the sound of ice before bed on YouTube. Did you know that if you press your ear to the ice at an ice skating rink, you can hear sounds? I know it’s strange, but I really love that sound and listen to it from time to time [laughs].
Ice sounds! That’s interesting. I was in Yamagata until a few days ago, and I was thinking about how each place has its own unique sound. I believe that listening to these sounds can bring back memories of the scenery, smells, and sensations of being there. Are there any “important sounds” like that for you?
ena mori: I’m really drawn to sounds that you don’t notice in daily life or that you only hear if you consciously listen for them. I feel like I can relate to those kinds of sounds. I think there are many voices that go unheard—whether from people with diverse identities or those who feel the need to hide who they are. Those voices and presences are fascinating to me, and it applies to sounds as well.
That’s wonderful. For me, that’s the main focus in my work. Voices from marginalized communities are often overlooked or dismissed in our current society and systems. But those voices and their existence are real, and my motto is to uplift and share those voices. It’s very reassuring to hear that we share this perspective.
ena mori: Hearing you say that makes me feel we’re living in a better time. Of course, there are still areas where progress is lacking, but I think back to when we were younger, and voices like that were even more silenced. Thanks to the continuous efforts of the community, we can now meet and work with others who share these sentiments.

I think it’s because of the people who continued to speak up despite being silenced that we’re here today. Your recent performance at WALL&WALL was particularly memorable for me. It was full of joy and seemed to lift us up, expressing the anxieties and hopes we all share. How do you feel about the power of live performances?
ena mori: I love creating music, but for me, it’s an inner process. Live performances, on the other hand, are where I can truly connect with people for the first time, and it’s like a reward for an artist. Being able to share the work I’ve spent years creating is such an important activity. While listening to a recording can be moving, there’s a unique kind of emotion that only a live show can bring. Looking into someone’s eyes and singing to them is an experience I can’t have in everyday life. I believe this kind of communication is only possible through music, so I hold it dear. There’s a connection that happens with the person in front of me, even without words, and I’m able to share my message. When I see someone moved by my performance, it energizes me too—it’s a great ecosystem (laughs). That’s the power of music, in my opinion.
You used to release many songs with English lyrics, but recently, you’ve also been releasing songs with Japanese lyrics. I think this has expanded the range of people you can communicate with. Was there a particular reason you started creating songs with Japanese lyrics?
ena mori: When I went to the Philippines in my second year of junior high school, I had a limited repertoire in Japanese, so I was never very proactive about writing lyrics. However, I thought that this challenge could add new material to my music, so I wanted to try writing lyrics in Japanese with a positive mindset.
The first song I wrote in Japanese was “Ichigo Milk,” a song provided by Tomggg. When I first heard it, I thought, “I want young people in Japan to hear this.” I wrote the song with the intention of encouraging others to be confident enough to be themselves and not overly worry about what others think. When I actually started writing, I found that writing lyrics in Japanese wasn’t so different from writing in English—it was just as enjoyable and natural. From there, I started wanting to create more songs in Japanese.
Both “Ichigo Milk” and “Nante Ne,” which was also used in a Pocari Sweat commercial, have a strong “I don’t care” vibe. They showcase a confident, powerful female attitude.
ena mori: I felt that was necessary. When I go overseas, I sometimes experience being underestimated just because I’m Asian. There’s this stereotype that “all Asians are kind and gentle,” but it varies from person to person, and I’m not exactly gentle. I wanted people living in Japan to hear that, so I wrote the songs with the image of a strong person in mind.
I’d like to let my past self hear this. Lastly, could you share what challenges you’d like to pursue in the future and the message you want to convey through your music?
ena mori: I want to be more active in Japan. My family lives here, so it would be nice to have more opportunities to see them. The biggest career challenge I’d like to take on is working in Europe. I really love European music, and I’d like to experience the local dance music culture.
That would also help elevate you as an artist, right?
ena mori: Yes! Europe is an area I’ve barely explored; I’ve only been to London once. But I fell in love with London, and usually, when I travel abroad, I want to come back home quickly, but with London, I thought, “I don’t want to go back!” [laughs]. I now love Japan too, and every time I return, I appreciate its beauty more. But I really love the open, artistic, and historical vibe of London and the sound of music playing on the street corners!
For my music, I’ve always valued creating songs that don’t lie. I want to express my honest thoughts and feelings. Even if I’m wrong, it’s still my true emotion at that moment. I want to create music that reflects my true self, rather than focusing on what’s considered “right.” I aim to be an artist who can inspire hope and empower those who want to challenge themselves with music and art like this.
ena mori“Trust Me”