Why did I listen to m-flo so often?

Of course, I loved the sound. That slightly weightless beat. The natural blending of Japanese and English. The sensation of navigating a nighttime metropolis not by car, but by spaceship. Yet, lately, I have come to realize something: perhaps it was not just music I was listening to. It was the voice of someone standing on the threshold.

In researching VERBAL, several fragment-like details caught my attention: his plans to become a pastor; his studies in philosophy and marketing; his effortless integration into fashion, art, tech, business, and global culture. Above all, the music of m-flo itself was always wrapped in a somewhat futuristic perspective. Looking back, everything made sense. Perhaps that is why I listened to m-flo so often.

There is an element in m-flo’s music that cannot be explained simply by "coolness" or "urban sophistication." It is club music, J-POP, hip-hop, and R&B. It carries the atmosphere of the English-speaking world alongside the humidity of Japanese cities. Attempting to categorize it into a single box immediately causes it to spill over. Yet that spilling felt entirely natural, even comforting.

From the 90s into the 2000s, Japanese music held several paths to the future. Tetsuya Komuro’s future. The Shibuya-kei future. The electronic future trace from YMO. Utada Hikaru’s future. And then, m-flo’s future. The future m-flo envisioned was unique. It was not a future of a monolithic, mechanical city, but rather a space where diverse languages, bodies, cultures, and voices intersected in the night.

Cosmic, yet warm. Digital, yet physical. Global, yet retaining the scent of a Japanese city. While sitting at the heart of commercial music, they always seemed to exist just outside the institutional lines. This dynamic feels deeply tied to VERBAL’s presence.

A person who once prepared to become a pastor rapping in a club setting. When you truly think about it, it is a striking contrast. Church and club. Prayers and beats. Faith and pop culture. Language and physicality. Salvation and indulgence. Elements that would normally be partitioned exist in the exact same space within VERBAL's voice.

Because of this, his rap carries a sense of looking far beyond the immediate thrill of the party. He moves the floor in front of him while gazing toward another world just past it. When listening to m-flo, the urban night occasionally feels like a sanctuary. Of course, there are no overtly religious words. Yet, beneath the sound, there is an underlying will to connect people. It is not a sermon, nor is it a dogma, but the sensation of connection itself remains.

The framework of "m-flo loves..." also feels highly symbolic in retrospect. Rather than a fixed band, it functioned as an open space at the center. Within that space, various voices entered: Crystal Kay, BoA, Namie Amuro, Akiko Wada. Artists of entirely different genres, generations, and contexts were invited into m-flo's domain. This served not only as a musical format, but as a deliberate design of thresholds.

Instead of placing a rigid ideology at the core, they left a blank space at the center, inviting different voices to enter. Through this co-existence, those voices shaped a subtly different future. To my younger self, this structure simply sounded exceptionally cool. Now, however, it appears in a different light. I realize this was the music of a person standing precisely on the border.

Between Japanese and English. Between Japan and the world. Between the church and the club. Between business and art. Between faith and fashion. Between J-POP and hip-hop. Between the past and the future. VERBAL did not erase these boundaries; he stood directly on top of them.

He is not one who erases borders, but one who bridges them, making them sing. This distinction is crucial. If you eliminate boundaries, everything becomes flat. But if you keep the boundaries and build bridges between them, a productive tension remains. Different entities exist within the same space while retaining their differences. m-flo's music carries that precise tension.

Perhaps this is why it does not feel dated today. While the texture of the sound belongs to a specific era, the underlying structure resists aging. In fact, it is much easier to appreciate now.

In an era where AI generates language, music, and images, what truly remains? Perhaps it is not the technology itself, but the specific boundary on which one stands. Simply producing sound is becoming effortless; flawless melodies, pleasant beats, and well-crafted lyrics will continue to emerge infinitely. Yet, the boundary from which that sound originates cannot be so easily replicated.

The sound of someone standing between the church and the club. The sound of someone moving naturally between Japanese and English. Sound ringing out in urban reality while still holding faith in the future. This is not merely a style. The way that person navigated the world is embedded within the sound itself.

In listening to m-flo, I believe I was listening to the future. Yet, it was not a future defined purely by technology; it was a far more human future. Various cultures colliding, languages blending, cities glowing, the night opening up slightly, and the voice of an unknown stranger entering. In that fleeting moment, an entrance to another world appears. Within that entrance lay VERBAL’s voice.

Between the church and the club, the future was sounding.

And perhaps, within that sound, I was listening to the sensation of the threshold all along.

© SHIRO & Co.

First published: 2026-06-23