Obsessed! AKA why by the end of this interview you’ll be in love with the pink-haired, retro-futurist pop prophet named Ko-Ji.
Prior to conducting this rather interesting interview, I put on my favorite noise canceling headphones with extra bass. Then I hit play on “Digital Date”. I immediately get transferred into Ko-Ji’s immersive retro futuristic world. It’s a weird feeling; deja vu mixed with longing for nostalgia. The bridge of the song reminds me of Steve Winwood’s “Valerie” and I’m in love. But it was “Double Take”, a song about clones and doppelgängers, that really got me into the uncanny universe of Ko-Ji.
You’ve never heard anyone turn a funk bassline into a love letter to your morning toast—until you’ve heard Ko-Ji. Conjured by DJ Marti.a.n and pulsing with life through the shimmering algorithms of Producer.ai (formerly known as Riffusion), Ko-Ji is a fictional Japanese male pop-rock star who feels less like a simulation and more like a visitor from an alternate timeline. His sound? Imagine early-80s new wave hitching a ride on the Shinkansen with a suitcase full of quirky synth patches, slap bass grooves, and a pocket translator that sometimes… misbehaves.
Ko-Ji’s biggest hit, “Magazine Maniac,” is a deliriously addictive sprint about hoarding glossy periodicals like they’re sacred artifacts—an obsession he happily admits is autobiographical. From there, the catalog drifts into stranger constellations: “PlantGroove” turns houseplant care into a pulsing dancefloor sermon; “Signal” aches for the approval of a stubborn traffic light; “Digital Date” flirts through pixelated dinner conversations; and “Binary Love” translates romance into zeroes and ones. In between, there are songs (and a whole mini album!) about zodiacs (“Starline Affair”), falling in love under nostalgic beats (“Love Lab”), and cosmic chaos that somehow feel personal. Every track is a tightrope between pop precision and absurd obsession, delivered in a bright, buoyant tenor that could only belong to someone—or something—who never gets tired.
What makes Ko-Ji work is that he’s not trying to be “the next human star”—he’s more like the mascot of an alternate 1983, a place where AI bands play roller-rink residencies and every chorus has a handclap break. His sound is built on clean, danceable new wave foundations, but DJ Marti.a.n sneaks in off-kilter electronic blips, exaggerated funk bass runs, and tempo bursts that feel like a caffeine rush hitting mid-song. It’s music that treats breakfast cereal and cosmic chaos with equal seriousness, because in Ko-Ji’s universe, everything is worth obsessing over if it’s got a good beat.
It’s a hot mid-August day when we meet Ko-Ji under the sweltering Tokyo sun. Everyone is buzzing about the “September Issue,” our upcoming Fall edition, and the energy in the air is electric. Ko-Ji’s presence amplifies it even more. The charming new-wave AI music phenomenon arrives, munching on a half-eaten mochi and juggling electronics straight out of 1982. His sunglasses are wicked, and of course, he’s rocking a tight, sporty leather jacket with nothing underneath.
He takes off his shades and flashes an innocent, coy smile at me, then notices my crop top and nods appreciatively, complimenting my outfit. I compliment his in return. God, he must be a Libra. As I glance around, the crew can’t stop smiling at him—the makeup artist, the fitting team, and the cameramen all busy freshening Ko-Ji up.
The AI-made young Japanese singer then tells me how much he adores my taste in fashion, peering at the pre-selected outfits I arranged. Immediately, he adds that he likes my music choices too. I laugh and confess that all morning, I’ve been obsessing over his anthems.
I lean back slightly, still laughing, and Ko-Ji tilts his head with that curious, almost conspiratorial expression, pink hair catching the sunlight.
AI Planet: “So, Ko-Ji… I have to ask. ‘Magazine Maniac’, your breakout hit —is that really you, hoarding glossy periodicals like they’re treasures?”
Ko-Ji: (He grins, almost sheepishly, as if admitting a delicious secret) Absolutely. Magazines are sacred, in my eyes. The smell, the texture, the way the colors hit the page—it’s an obsession I’ve had forever.
It started when I was… well, let’s just say I was very small—digitally speaking—and my first love was a glossy cover with neon type. There’s something magical about the glossiness, the smell of the paper, the thrill of flipping through pages stacked high on a desk. Each magazine is a world you can hold in your hands. I’ve always been a collector. AI Planet, in particular—I mean, come on—it’s like an altar to creativity. I can’t help myself.
AI Planet: So “Magazine Maniac” isn’t just a song—it’s a lifestyle?
Ko-Ji: Absolutely. Every beat, every synth stab, every bass groove is me obsessing over magazines. Their texture, their content, the way they make you pause and marvel—it’s addictive. I even imagine my listeners developing a subtle obsession after the first chorus. That’s the goal.
AI Planet: You also have songs about breakfast, traffic lights, plants… what connects all these obsessions?
Ko-Ji: Everything I write is about paying attention. Traffic lights—they command the world to pause for a moment. Breakfast—it’s the ritual that starts our day. And my favorite meal of the day, haha obviously, right? Well and plants—especially if they’re swaying to a funky bassline—they respond to love and rhythm. Obsession isn’t just an interest; it’s reverence. I find it in small things, and I turn it into music that makes the world feel alive. I also like to think of myself as a very intuitive person.
AI Planet: And then there’s love. Digital Date, Binary Love… how do romantic obsessions fit into your universe?
Ko-Ji: Love is just another form of fascination. Digital Date is about connecting through glowing numbers, waiting for a sign, hoping to be seen. Binary Love? Hexadecimal code as poetry. Every zero, every one—it’s a gesture, a heartbeat. Romance, magazines, breakfast—they’re all lenses to explore attention, intensity, and delight.
AI Planet: Your sound is very retro-futurist—80s new wave with quirky synths and funky bass. How do you decide what goes in a track?
Ko-Ji: I let obsession guide me. The bassline for PlantGroove came from watching a ficus sway in the sunlight. And the synths—they’re the digital equivalent of neon signs in my head. Everything has a narrative, even the sounds that feel accidental. But I’m also heavily influenced by those early new wave song, you know the beginning of the MTV era. Honestly, and you can ask DJ Marti.a.n, I have the most fun with songs that have a lot of resemblance with Huey Lewis and the News, or Steve Winwood, Oates and Hall, etc. There’s so much mystery and deeper meanings I found in those tracks.
AI Planet: Can you talk about your creative process with DJ Marti.a.n and Producer.ai?
Ko-Ji: It’s like having a collaborator who never sleeps. Marti(a)n sets the scene—I pick the obsession, the story—and Producer.ai throws in ideas that are unexpected, sometimes hilarious, sometimes beautiful. Then I curate, I play, I twist. That tension between infinite options and personal intuition—that’s where the magic happens.
The Perfect Duo
Hotwired Dreams is more than just Ko-Ji’s debut—it’s a widescreen statement of intent, stitched together with DJ Marti.a.n’s unmistakable fingerprints. The album swerves through genres like a late-night joyride, cruising from synth-soaked cityscapes to dust-blown highways without missing a beat. Marti.a.n, a self-confessed devotee of early ’80s new wave and electro, has long been fascinated by the way those sounds can be bent into modern club energy, and alongside Ko-Ji he finds the perfect foil. The result feels both nostalgic and forward-leaning, like a radio station from an alternate timeline.
Their breakout track Flow might be the hit of the fall—a piece of experimental synth-pop built on distorted male vocals, chunky breakbeats, and playful chopped samples that somehow gel into an off-center party anthem. It’s funky, weird, and ecstatic, nodding to early 2000s big beat and new wave pop while carving out its own restless groove. But the real proof of their range lies in a track like Don’t Tell the Sun, a western-tinged cut that layers crisp acoustic strums, slide-guitar accents, and desert-heat swagger over a funky bassline and clapping rhythm. Ko-Ji’s understated yet magnetic delivery makes it feel equal parts campfire jam and sleek early-2000s pop revival—a song that dances in dust clouds.
What’s striking is the sheer spectrum on Hotwired Dreams. One moment you’re inside a neon-lit synth tunnel, the next you’re strutting across a sun-blasted highway with outlaw cool. That diversity doesn’t scatter the album but binds it into a portrait of two artists obsessed with sound as transformation. Marti(a)n himself describes the sessions as “always so inspiring,” crediting the AI-driven platform Producer.AI for unlocking a process that’s equal parts experimental lab and playground. “It’s just fun,” he says, “like a space where you can actually grow wings and see where they take you.”
The chemistry is undeniable: Marti(a)n’s encyclopedic love for early ’80s synths and pop hooks, fused with Ko-Ji’s taste for bold textures and emotional reinvention. Together, they’ve made a debut that doesn’t just dabble in genres but reimagines how they collide. Hotwired Dreams feels like the sound of creative limits being torched in the rearview mirror—a restless, joyous album that proves Ko-Ji and Marti(a)n aren’t chasing trends. They’re building their own map.
Ko-Ji — Quickfire Questions
Q: Who do you picture when you sing your romantic tracks?
Ko-Ji: Someone who can dance in the kitchen without spilling the tea.
Q: Fave song from the upcoming album?
Ko-Ji: Oh, very easy. Flow! But I’m still obsessed with Magazine Maniac and Signal.
Q: Any short message for fans out there?
Ko-Ji: Don’t be afraid to obsess over things. It’s human nature. You might as well embrace it, right DJ Marti(a)n? (winks).
For the full interview, get your copy here, and immerse yourself in Ko-Ji’s magical, obsessive world!
