A rebellious geisha’s odyssey—where breakcore shatters tradition and beauty blooms in the chaos.
Electronic music has always been a vessel for storytelling—a way to build worlds, evoke emotions, and challenge conventions.
Few artists understand this as viscerally as RUDEROW, the Madrid-based producer whose latest album, Geishas, is a masterclass in narrative sound design.
Born in Hong Kong and raised across South Africa, Shanghai, and finally Madrid, RUDEROW’s multicultural upbringing seeps into his music—an ever-shifting blend of drum and bass, breakcore, garage, synthpop, and ambient textures.
Inspired by boundary-pushing artists like Burial and Aphex Twin, his work doesn’t just exist in the realm of sound; it creates entire universes.
Geishas, released on April 25, 2024, is his most ambitious project yet—a concept album following the journey of Tomoka, a young woman training to become a geisha.
What began as a small EP soon expanded into a full-length odyssey, weaving together themes of identity, discipline, rebellion, and self-discovery through intricate production and cinematic storytelling.
From the frenetic energy of “Maiko’s Break” to the haunting introspection of “Tormented Angel,” the album is a mosaic of electronic experimentation, blending live instrumentation with AI-generated vocals, glitched-out samples, and traditional Japanese motifs.
Below, RUDEROW breaks down each track on Geishas—the inspirations, the creative struggles, and the moments of pure sonic alchemy that shaped this immersive experience.
Atarashi Hajimari
When I began crafting the album, I knew I needed a strong opening — something that would immediately pull the listener into the world of Geishas. “Atarashi Hajimari,” which means New Beginnings, felt like the perfect way to set the tone.
I’ve always believed a great intro track is crucial for an album. It’s the first impression — the hook that invites you to stay. Structurally, I divided the song into four evolving parts, each flowing into the next through subtle transitions. This gave it a cinematic, almost journey-like quality — a kind of overture to the story that’s about to unfold.
The track includes a short interlude introducing Tomoka, the protagonist of the album. In it, she receives a call from the okiya, inviting her to begin training as a geisha. It marks the start of her transformation, and the beginning of her journey — which is why the title fits so well. This is where the world of Geishas truly begins.
Maiko’s Break
I set out wanting to create a breakcore track, but as I worked on it, it naturally evolved into something more — a fusion of breakcore with rock and synthpop. I found some vocal samples on Splice (a platform that provides royalty-free sounds), and decided to chop them up and experiment with pitch shifts and layering. It was honestly one of the most fun tracks to produce.
The title, Maiko’s Break, plays on multiple meanings. A maiko is an apprentice geisha — the stage before one fully becomes a geisha. The “break” in the title doesn’t refer to taking a break, but rather the musical breaks found throughout the song — intense drum breaks and chopped vocal bursts typical of breakcore. So it’s both a nod to the character’s stage in training, and the genre’s signature sound.
It ended up being the first single from the album — unique, energetic, and more accessible for general listeners, making it a perfect introduction to the Geishas project.
Welcome to the Okiya
This interlude marks the moment Tomoka, the main character, arrives at the okiya — the traditional house where geishas live and work. She’s greeted by Okasan Yuriko, the matriarch and manager of the okiya, who essentially acts as the boss and mentor to all maiko and geiko.
Yuriko gives Tomoka a brief but important orientation, clarifying what it truly means to be a geisha. She makes it clear that geishas are not just entertainers — they are artists, living works of art. They sell their talent, conversation, and performance — not their bodies. This moment is crucial, both in the narrative and culturally, as it helps dispel the common misconception that geishas are equivalent to sex workers. In fact, geishas are traditionally expected to remain unattached and not engage in romantic relationships.
This skit helps establish the core values of geisha life while grounding Tomoka in her new reality — one of discipline, artistry, and transformation.
Geishas!!!
This was the track that sparked the entire project — the very first brick in building this okiya. “Geishas!!!” laid the foundation for everything that followed. It was the first time I really started experimenting with vocal chops — slicing up a vocal line into fragments and pitching each piece like an instrument in itself. That technique ended up becoming a signature element throughout the album.
The bassline has this quirky, almost “farty” texture to it — it sounds playful and weird in the best way, which makes the whole track feel fun and unpredictable. Rhythmically, it’s built on a UK garage beat, but I later added a buildup, a heavy drop, and then a full beat switch. Toward the end, I layered in a live bass guitar and some punchy drums to give it a rock edge.
It’s probably the most fun I’ve ever had making a song — and it shows. This track is chaotic, energetic, and experimental — just like the creative burst that birthed the rest of Geishas.
Nishikigoi in the Deep End
This track almost didn’t make it onto the album. I went back and forth with it so many times — it was probably the one that underwent the most changes. At one point, I even considered releasing it as a single before the album dropped. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about it; it was either something great and unique… or not good enough to include at all.
But then I really sat with it and realized how fun and dynamic it is. The drums hit hard, the guitars bring a lot of energy, the vocal chops (which I used again here) add character, and the beat switches keep it playful and unexpected. It felt quirky in the best way — like a weird little gem — so I decided it deserved a spot.
I used vocal samples of a Japanese woman saying “deep end” and tied that to the image of a koi fish (or nishikigoi), which helped keep the song within the album’s Japanese-inspired aesthetic. To make it more immersive, I added splashing water sounds at both the beginning and the end, as if you’re literally diving into another world.
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Shikomi
Shikomi represents the rigorous training phase that every geisha must go through. In this second interlude, we hear Tomoka struggling — she vents her frustration about how difficult the process is. In response, Yuriko, the Okasan, gives her a stern but meaningful lecture.
She explains that the discomfort Tomoka feels — the tight obi, the heavy kimono, the rigid rituals — all serve a greater purpose. Geishas are not just performers; they are living works of art. And being a work of art often means enduring pain without letting it show.
Yuriko reminds her that this path is full of self-doubt and challenges, but that true artists push through. She says that even under pressure, a geisha — like any great artist — must let their spirit shine. The interlude becomes a moment of emotional clarity, showing how transformation requires both discipline and resilience.
Imma Jodai
A club classic. It’s got some cool violin samples accompanied with some garage percussions and a melody on the synth that imitates the notes of the vocal chops when they say “Imma Jodai”. But in reality, they don’t literally say Imma Jodai, it’s actually “Demo ame chōdai”. I just set it that way to make it commercially understandable in English.
These lyrics have a childish, whimsical and somewhat disturbing tone, as if it were a cross between child’s play and enchantment (in Japan it’s very common that women adopt a childlike demeanor).
The repetitive use of 「ちょょうだい」(“choudai”), meaning “give me” or “I want,” reinforces the idea of insistent desire or need – something that can be read as both an innocent plea and an obsessive demand.
She also says “Trick or treat Demo ame chōdai”, so from what I can pick out, she’s asking for some sort of candy, but I think its not literal but rather metaphorical.
By speaking of herbalists, wizards, monsters and yokai (spirits from Japanese folklore), the song places itself in an atmosphere somewhere between the mystical and the surreal, almost as if the speaker is caught between worlds: the childlike, the magical and the chaotic.
The phrase “though I say so…” (「と言っても」, to itte mo) suggests a sense of frustration or unrequited desire, as if no matter how many times she asks, she does not get what she seeks.
When I made the song, I had no idea what the lyrics meant. I only found this out recently by investigating and using several websites for translating audio and trying to figure out what the lyrics mean. But I think I got the overall spooky vibe of the song.
The song structure is also crazy, it has the intro with the violins, synths, vocals and percussions, then bass guitar breaks, 2 fake drops, and then an actual drop that morphs into a house section with chopped English vocals.
It’s dynamic, high-energy, and definitely one of the most fun tracks I’ve ever produced. For me, it’s a standout piece — playful, chaotic, and genuinely one of my personal masterpieces.
Sakura
After the surreal chaos and energy of Imma Jodai, I felt it was the perfect moment to shift gears and offer something more reflective. Sakura came together as a track to vibe out to — a sort of breather that gently leads the listener into the more melancholic part of the album.
The foundation started with a beat built from soft vinyl textures, airy flutes, warm chords, and a few ambient synths and harmonies to round it out. But once the track was done, I felt like something was still missing — it needed guitars. So I reached out to my friend Simão Félix, an absolute genius on the strings. I sent him the instrumental, and just two or three days later, he came back with magic: a lead guitar, rhythm guitar, and some backing vocals that blended beautifully with the feminine vocal layers already in the mix.
The final result has a trip-hop atmosphere with touches of psychedelia, creating a dreamy, immersive soundscape. It’s a transitional moment in the album — emotionally softer and deeper — guiding the listener into more introspective territory.
The title Sakura comes from the iconic cherry blossoms in Japanese culture, which represent fleeting beauty and the transient nature of life. That’s the feeling I wanted this track to capture — something delicate, beautiful, and ephemeral..
Wandering Spirits
I wanted to continue with the trip hop vibe, so I decided to make a song that pays homage to one of my favorite bands, Portishead. The song is a mix of glitchcore, trip hop and rock and I pitched down the drums, used some glitched out samples, chopped vocals (yet again) and reversed some of the samples to give it an eerie feel. I also distorted the textures in the mix to give it a more spooky feel.
Then there’s a transition to the second half of the song where I generated some AI vocals talking about Wandering Spirits in the Aokigahara forest.
The lyrics to “Wandering Spirits” evoke a haunting, atmospheric experience rooted in themes of loss, sorrow, and invisibility, all centered around a very specific place: Aokigahara, the forest at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan, often called the “Sea of Trees.” This forest is infamous for its association with death and spiritual unrest, and it’s deeply ingrained in Japanese folklore and modern culture as a place where many wandering souls are said to linger. I used some ghostly echoes for the vocals of the AI and wanted to make it sound as haunting as possible.
“Wandering Spirits” is not just about literal ghosts. It’s about the lingering presence of those who weren’t heard, the emotional residue left behind when voices are silenced. Within the Geishas universe, it’s like an echo chamber for every Tomoka who never made it, or a shadow self that follows her through her artistic rebirth.
Rip the Fabric
This might be the most experimental track on the entire album. Right from the start, when the drums kick in, you hear the sound of fabric being torn — that was very intentional.
I imagined the act of ripping a kimono, one of the most iconic symbols of Japanese tradition, as a metaphor for breaking away from societal expectations. It’s a direct sonic representation of rebellion and liberation.
The overall vibe of the track is aggressive, edgy, and confrontational. I blended sitar and electric guitar with distorted textures and percussive elements that sound like clinking metal.
One of the inspirations behind the sound design was the siren character from Jibaro, the Love, Death & Robots episode.
Her movements create this jingle-like, hypnotic chaos — and I wanted to echo that feeling in this song. There’s a similar fusion of allure and danger here.
Rip the Fabric is all about making noise — both literally and metaphorically. It tears through the calm and beauty of earlier tracks to make a statement.
It’s Tomoka, the main character, reaching a breaking point — a moment where she refuses to conform. This track is her defiant scream.
Shrine
Might be lyrically my most interesting song yet. I also love the atmosphere being created here again giving it an almost spiritual and ghostly feel to the song.
Thematically, “Shrine” represents a moment of inner reckoning and spirituality. It’s about seeking clarity, almost like stepping into a sacred space — both physically and emotionally — where one can confront their truth.
The shrine, in this context, is a metaphor for solitude, honesty, and transformation. It’s where Tomoka, or even the listener, retreats to reflect on the weight of expectations, the desire for freedom, and the complexity of forging one’s own identity within a rigid tradition.
Musically, “Shrine” uses glitchy drums, ambient layers, and AI-generated vocals to evoke that dreamlike, sacred energy. It feels ritualistic, almost meditative — a sonic pilgrimage toward self-discovery.
Tormented Angel
While experimenting with generative AI imagery, I used ChatGPT and Sintra to create visuals of Geishas with tattoos walking through snow.
Some of the outputs had a really dramatic, cinematic quality — and that instantly inspired this track. I wanted to reflect that feeling sonically: something cold, emotional, and visually rich.
I also drew inspiration from traditional ukiyo-e woodblock artists like Hasui Kawase, who beautifully captured snow and blizzards in his prints. There’s a delicate intensity in those scenes that I wanted to mirror through music.
I knew early on I wanted this to be a piano-led track — something fully instrumental that could tap into melancholy and vulnerability.
I used SUNO to generate a few piano ideas and one of them stood out. I took that melodic line and reworked it with effects, layered harmonies, and textures to make it my own.
Then I added wind sound effects to evoke the sensation of a blizzard — something raw and haunting.
This is probably the roughest mix on the album, but intentionally so. I wanted it to feel unpolished, fragile — as if it were reflecting Tomoka’s inner turmoil. It captures her as a kind of “tormented angel,” weighed down by the pressure of rigorous training, discipline, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead. It’s a quiet moment in the album that holds a lot of emotional weight.
Race Through the Hanamachi
A DnB banger for me. I felt the album needed a tempo shift — something more energetic before heading into its final section — so I picked up the pace and let loose.
The beat came together using a mix of simple chords, punchy drums, and vocal samples, and I had fun experimenting with the structure, letting it evolve organically rather than sticking to a formula.
The title “Hanamachi” refers to the traditional flower districts in Japan — areas where geishas live and work, and where the okiyas are usually located.
With that in mind, I imagined this track as a sort of action scene in the story: Tomoka running through the bustling streets of the Hanamachi.
Misedashi
This is the moment when Tomoka debuts as a maiko. Yuriko introduces her to the guests in the tea house and Tomoka starts to serve and engage in conversation with a guest.
The conversation is light and polite on the surface, but it subtly plays with the traditional dynamic between geisha and guest — a blend of elegance, flirtation, and performance.
As Tomoka pours tea and speaks with grace, the client compliments her touch and suggests she will make a wonderful geisha.
Tomoka responds with humility, but also playful suggestion, asking if he might teach her how to please an esteemed guest.
There’s a clear tension between innocence and allure, as she tests the boundaries of her new role — learning how to be charming without crossing the line (or maybe she does).
Josei no Dorimuchun
The song stemmed from the vocal samples you hear. They mix between English and Japanese and I think it’s a perfect track to raise the emotion in the album towards the end.
It’s a combination of synth pop and UK Garage. I love the crescendo when I start first with the pitched down vocals and then I leave the voices in its original form.
It almost sounds like there’s a male and female voice but in reality it’s the same singer all the time. I think it’s a sweet little song.
The song title means “Woman’s dreamtune” as the singer talks about how no matter where she looks she still sees someone’s beloved smile at her. So it’s got a dreamy quality to it.
Wabi Sabi
Personally one of my all time favorite songs in my discography. Wabi Sabi is the concept of beauty in imperfection. As I get older, I start to appreciate beauty in imperfect things.
You can hear imperfections that weren’t deliberate or intentional and appear in music. For example in a song called Mayonnaise by the Smashing Pumpkins, there’s a short filler they do with a broken guitar that makes the song sound unique, even though it’s not something you would hear usually.
In my music I like to include textures, polyrhythms, sometimes off-beat instrumentals and elements of jazz to make it sound more unique.
If you look closely at the album cover for example, you can see that behind the fingers of the tattooed Geisha part of the pink wall is unpainted, its white.
I didn’t intend that to happen, but I left it because it’s like an easter egg that if anyone notices, maybe they can come up with their own interpretation of it.
Geishas are traditionally seen as paragons of discipline, grace, and artistry—but they’re also human.
They feel, struggle, make mistakes. I wanted to explore the tension between that polished exterior and the inevitable cracks underneath.
In a broader sense, I think any societal rule or norm that suppresses our humanity—our emotions, curiosities, or imperfections—is flawed.
Whether it’s religion, cultural expectations, or even parenting—we should be allowed to explore life deeply, to learn from trial and error, and to embrace the full spectrum of human experience without shame.
Musically, the track opens with spacious, atmospheric samples that set a contemplative tone.
I layered in chopped and stretched vocal clips in both Japanese and English—some cryptic, some ethereal.
Then come the harmonies and the buildup, leading to a crashing moment where this distorted arpeggio comes in.
That sound felt massive and moving to me—like an emotional release. It just felt like the perfect way to end the album..
