Through the night, hidden basement clubs in Tokyo keep the sound alive until dawn, where small crowds build a scene far bigger than their numbers suggest. Among them is Banshimoku, the Tokyo-based two-piece formed by vocalist and guitarist Shion Chiga and drummer Yamato Iohara, making music so good it makes you want to pack your bags and fly to Japan just to see them perform live.

On stage, their presence is bigger than their bare-bones setup suggests. Shion Chiga’s voice tears through the room, while Yamato Iohara pounds the drums with a wild energy. Together, Banshimoku create a sound that’s tight on paper but strangely addictive in practice. It’s something you can’t fake; it grows from time and countless shows together.

“I feel like our sound today has been shaped by all the live performances we’ve done,” Chiga says. Iohara puts it more simply: “We make a big sound in our own way.”

That live-first philosophy has carried them far beyond the small rooms where many indie bands remain for years. In 2023, the duo toured 10 cities across Japan, culminating in a sold-out final show at Shibuya WWW. They’ve since appeared at major festivals including Summer Sonic, ARABAKI ROCK FEST., and MONSTER baSH, where crowds grew so dense that entry restrictions were sometimes imposed. Yet despite the buzz, their attitude remains humble and kind. Asked whether that packed Shibuya show changed their ambitions, Chiga shakes his head, “I never really paid attention to whether a show was sold out, but that day I realised how nice it feels to have so many people there for us.” For Iohara, nothing shifted at all. “We’ve been playing in this band with the same mindset since the very beginning.”

Part of what makes Banshimoku so cool is how naturally they split their creative roles. Songwriting is all about conversation. “One of us will bring a rough idea, and we flash it out together in the studio,” they explain.

Lately, many of the first ideas have come from Iohara, but the finished songs clearly reflect both of them – Chiga’s direct, emotional style and Iohara’s more conceptual approach. That balance shows in their lyrics, which shift between vivid, surreal images and blunt honesty. “Most of it comes from very personal experiences,” Chiga says. Iohara adds, “A lot of my ideas come from abstract concepts.” The result is music that’s slightly unpredictable, full of genuine feeling but open to interpretation.

Their latest single, 心底心中したい, is a perfect example of that strange balance. The title alone is something dark, but the origin story is unexpectedly casual. “I was talking with my friend about what kind of way we’d want to die, and I got carried away and wrote this!” Chiga laughs. Then, with characteristic mischief, she adds, “Personally, I want to go skydiving and somehow end up impaled on a bamboo tree. Don’t worry, I have no plans of dying anytime soon!”. It’s a comment that can shock, yet in her voice it sounds absurd, almost cartoonish, a reminder that Banshimoku’s intensity is rarely self-serious.

The mix of seriousness and humour runs throughout their work, including the track Kindness. For Iohara, the song tackles a particular kind of hollow generosity. “The feeling comes from frustration with a form of ‘kindness’ that’s ultimately self-serving rather than truly for someone else,” he explains. Even so, the idea didn’t originate from any particular turning point. “Still, the song wasn’t drawn from a concrete experience; I just really wanted Chiga Shion to sing the first line.”

Musically, their DNA stretches outside of Japan. Chiga cites Nirvana and Red Hot Chili Peppers – bands that understood the power of rawness and groove; while Iohara points to Japanese staples like UNISON SQUARE GARDEN, Hoshino Gen, and NECRY TALKIE. You can hear it in the way their songs move from scrappy alternative rock to something more melodic and hook-driven without ever losing edge.

Being a duo, of course, leaves nowhere to hide, but rather than shrink from that vulnerability, they seem to run into it. “It changes depending on my state of mind that day,” Chiga admits. “Whether I feel trapped or completely free, I think I’d end up doing the same thing anyway.” Iohara is more decisive: “I feel free. I don’t feel any pressure. If anything, I think I get more intimidated when there are too many people.”

Offstage, the mythology dissolves into something charmingly ordinary. After particularly intense shows, Chiga prefers to simply “hang out with my friends,” while Iohara opts for “complete silence.” Their methods for staying focused are similarly simple. “Spending time with my friends and family, and also making time for myself,” Chiga says. “If I’m constantly doing music, I get exhausted!”. Iohara sums up his approach with a grin: “Full intensity, always! But with a healthy sense of humour!”

Perhaps that’s the real secret to Banshimoku’s appeal. For all the talk of packed venues, festival slots, and rising profiles, they don’t behave like a band chasing inevitability. They are two people who genuinely love making noise together – who would probably still be writing songs in some cramped Tokyo studio even if no one was listening. Banshimoku prove that scale can come from complete faith in what you do. Strip everything back and tell the truth as loudly as you can. I think, sometimes, that’s more than enough.

Written and interviewed by Maggie Gogler

Featured image courtesy of Banshimoku

_{View of the Arts is an online publication dedicated to film, music, and the arts, with a strong focus on the Asian entertainment industry. As we continue to grow, we aim to deepen our coverage of Asian music while remaining committed to exploring and celebrating creativity across the global arts landscape.}