PART I.

THE BELIEVER: Your debut album, Psychopomp, has been widely acclaimed since its release, in 2016, and your lovely and grabbing Soft Sounds from Another Planet has also done incredibly well. Can you talk about your transition into embodying Japanese Breakfast?

JAPANESE BREAKFAST: It has been a very slow and gradual process. I think from the outside some people think it was really quick, but you’ve known me for quite some time and know that I’ve been playing music for over ten years. We both have been playing the Philly music scene for over ten years. In the DIY scene, you’re trudging through touring, booking your own shows, marketing your own stuff, and paying for your own records. So all of these changes and developments are really welcome and make my life a lot easier. I definitely have way more confidence as an artist now, because for so long I was toiling away and asking myself, Why have I been doing this for so long? I feel we were really lucky in the sense that we weren’t a band that blew up out of nowhere. It was a real process. For ten years I toured in a shitty van that broke down all the time, and I made no money. I really knew what it was like to drive eight hours and play to ten people and be constantly disappointed.

PART II.

THE BELIEVER: You have a book in the works called Crying in H Mart, which is also the title of your essay, published in The New Yorker, about grieving the loss of your mother and her ability to make you feel at home and immersed in Korean culture. The book also speaks to your passion for making Korean food. With regards to your grief and self-expression, what’s been your experience shifting from writing music to writing this incredibly personal book?

JAPANESE BREAKFAST: When my mom passed away, I was twenty-five, and before that she was always concerned about me not making it. By then, I had put in ten years of my life and it really didn’t seem like it was going anywhere. Once I lost my mom, a lot of changes happened. My band had broken up and everything was really new in my life. I thought that in order to not fall into a deep depression, I just wanted to work really, really hard. So I was working a nine-to-five, mixing my record, and I also decided to write this essay that compartmentalizes my feelings and the experience of starting to cook Korean food in New York. Around the time that Psychopomp was finished, I had written this nonfiction piece...