TsuShiMaMiRe
Mercury Lounge (New York City) – May 31, 2026
Live Report by Victoria Goldenberg
The luxury of being a long-term Japanese music fan is having the time for bands to grow on you. I was formally introduced to TsuShiMaMiRe on the JapaNoodle Fever Tour 2008, and while the band should have been a home run for my taste—3 women rocking out skillfully and fearlessly, with humor and unfettered energy—I didn’t make an emotional connection. No matter, I thought at the time; maybe I will understand them eventually. I retained fond memories of singer-guitarist Mari jumping into the audience for “Noumiso Shortcake” and introducing the song “Baka Moto Kare” as being about an ex who sent her curry out of the blue, years after their breakup.
In 2023, TsuShiMaMiRe finally clicked. An ex cold-called me over 5 years after a breakup. (It was a normal breakup, albeit one where I was unambiguously over it.) In the immediate aftermath, I was in disbelief that “Baka Moto Kare” had more-or-less happened to me.
I began revisiting TsuShiMaMiRe’s catalogue. I have since collected 12 of their CDs so far (peanuts for a band that’s been prolific since 2000) and added “Air Con no Remote Con” to my karaoke repertoire. When they brought their “Oversized American Dreams” tour to New York City’s Mercury Lounge on May 31, 2026, it was time to see them with my full appreciation in tow.
TsuShiMaMiRe – Ice Cream Punk (MV)
First off, TsuShiMaMiRe got a killer opening set by local Japanese American punk band First President of Japan. Frontwoman Non Kuramoto, who entered the New York music scene from an unconventional background as a clown and comedian, tore through the venue’s stage, floor, and couches with some of the most infectious energy I’ve encountered in a while. They will definitely blow up, so keep an ear out, and go see them live if you’re local to New York City.
For TsuShiMaMiRe, so much has changed since I first saw them live, and yet so much hasn’t. Founding drummer Mizue left in 2017, with Asami joining last year as an equally good replacement. Mari and bassist Yayoi still have it completely, and I was impressed they can still hit the high harmonies in “Air Con no Remote Con” flawlessly. Mari did not jump into the audience for “Noumiso Shortcake,” but she gave an equally compelling performance with the energy and precision rapping of a veteran musician.
TsuShiMaMiRe – Air Control, Remote Control (MV)
The audience appeared to run my age (thirty-something) and older and included some faces I hadn’t seen in close to 20 years. It was reassuring to see dedicated fans still turning out, as I’ve watched some of the fiercest fans of Japanese music in the 2000s lose interest and move on in the time since. (Not me, I’m a sicko.)
As much as I enjoyed hearing the old music again, the new (or new-to-me) songs killed too. Everything on the tour’s companion “Oversized American Dreams” EP sounds as fresh and vital as ever, including the titular song’s unspoiled wish for a level of American fame that’s remained just out of TsuShiMaMiRe’s grasp.
Toward the close of the set, I got my own wish fulfilled in a performance of “Baka Moto Kare.” In the moment, I mused on my concurrent feelings of 2000s nostalgia and relationship with the song. I am grateful Mari’s boisterous processing of her own embarrassing situation helped me understand my own years later, and I hope TsuShiMaMiRe can continue to connect with other listeners—even if it may take some time.
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