Tengger are a family band based in Seoul, South Korea. Itta is the Korean mother and Marqido the Japanese father, while eight year old Raai sings and dances on stage, and is shortly to release his own debut cassette EP. Tengger is a name borrowed from Mongolian, meaning an unlimited expanse of sky. Their music, especially on their 2020 album Nomad, generates a lush kosmische thrum of synths, calming the restless spirit.

October 2020 they celebrated their 15th anniversary with an hour-long live show streamed from their Senggi Studio in Seoul. Itta (playing Indian harmonium) and Raai both appear in the show, but Marqido remains unseen till a tearful moment towards the end when he pops up on Itta’s phone. In fact, from May until December 2020 Marqido had been nearly 800 kilometres distant, in Shikoku, Japan – unable to rejoin his family because of Covid travel restrictions. Little Raai is visibly upset that his father is not present.

When I speak to Tengger online in December 2020, they have finally reunited in Japan just two days before. “It all started suddenly,” explains Itta. “Normally we can come and go to Japan without a visa. Then in early March Japan closed the door to Korea. The Korean government said it’s not fair, so they also closed the door. Now we could get just a short visitors’ visa – we plan to leave in January, but we still don’t know whether we can travel together or not.” This tit-for-tat over travel restrictions reflects the political tension between Korea and Japan, which readily bubbles up in stressful situations.

For most of the year Marqido remained stuck on the large island of Shikoku in southern Japan. Shikoku is famous for pilgrimages around its 88 Buddhist temples. Tengger have done this pilgrimage multiple times, and are currently restoring a rural house on the pilgrims’ route. When the house is ready, it may host artist residencies. Originally named Kumakogen (meaning far in the highlands), Tengger have rechristened it Studio Kyurt (a blend of Kumakogen and yurt). “The house is almost finished,” says Itta. “He did a really hard job.” “I did it alone!” exclaims Marqido. “It’s DIY, and I’m an amateur.” Itta nods warm approval: “He did his best.”

For young Raai the separation was particularly tough. “He was crying every night,” recalls Itta. “We talked every night by video link, but Raai wanted to hug his father. These days he’s working hard to express his emotions about this situation – actually he started composing when he was six – so he’s writing lyrics and melodies about what he wants to do. For example, he wants to watch the beautiful ocean with his father and mother.”

As a Korean/Japanese couple, I ask Tengger whether the historical tension between the two countries affects their everyday lives. Raai attends school in Seoul, and Itta tells me how Korean nationalism can creep into the teaching of history. Between Korea and Japan lies a set of tiny islets called Dokdo (or Takeshima, if you’re looking from Japan). A dispute over their ownership has been rumbling away for 300 years, and for some Koreans, a day’s boat trip to Dokdo is a significant patriotic act. “Raai’s full name is Matsumoto Raai,” explains Itta, “so his friends say to him, ‘You are Japanese, what do you think?’ We tell him to think in a bigger perspective, and not get stuck on small things.”

Ironically, within Korea people occasionally mistake Itta for Japanese – her spoken Japanese is very good – while assuming her Japanese husband is Korean. While in Japanese cities it’s certainly possible to encounter anti-Korean prejudice, Itta is keen to stress that people in Shikoku are generally kind and tolerant. It’s a largely rural area with few cities: Matsuyama is the biggest, with a population of under half a million. Tengger enthusiastically recommend a visit to Matsuyama’s Dogo Onsen: the oldest bath house in Japan, it’s a vast, imposing palace of cleanliness, and the inspiration for the nightmarish bath house in Hayao Miyazaki’s animated film Spirited Away.

Spring 2021 should see the reissue by Seoul based label Extra Noir of Tengger’s very first EP, Electric Earth Creation from 2013. “EEC doesn't sound all that similar to something like Nomad,” Extra Noir co-founder Andy Wilbur tells me, “and yet most of the same elements are there – just faster, harder and more acid-soaked. It's their most low budget offering, and yet it has this huge sound – every time I hear it I want to be teleported to a cavernous nightclub and get totally swallowed by it. Makes you want to dance, rather than meditate.” Already out is the Tengger track “Solongo”, alongside work by Robert Lippok and pianist Lisa Morgenstern, on a compilation album called Ambient Layers, from the Berlin based 7K! label.

“Nowadays we are searching for nature in a spiritual way,” says Itta. When I invite her to expand on this, she references Shugendo, a syncretic religious mix of Taoism, Buddhism and Shinto. “Shikoku has existed as a sacred place for Shugendo practice since the seventh century. We are making music as our practice, so this relates to Shikoku very well. Shugendo means coming into nature, and communicating with nature in a spiritual way.”

For hardcore Shugendo practitioners, pilgrimages can include rigorous mountain ascents or ascetic diets. Tengger are unlikely to be found chanting for hours while standing under a waterfall, but they draw on the same tradition. Hints can be seen in the videos accompanying their Nomad album. “The Shikoku pilgrimage is following up Shugendo’s practice place,” continues Itta. “We are not Shugendo followers, but we do pilgrimages for our communication with nature and the universe. Trees in the mountain are different from the trees people plant in town. Seaside stones are different in the same way. That’s the most important thing for our work.”

Read Clive Bell's 2018 interview with Tengger in The Wire 415. Subscribers can access via the digital archive.