In a detailed interview published on August 7, 2026, Vocaloid creators Iinoutsuha SA and video director Kanade opened up about the distinctive "osanpo MV" (walking music video) aesthetic that has quietly reshaped a corner of the Vocaloid scene. We now have a fuller picture of what this style actually means, why these creators deliberately choose hard-to-find filming locations, and how the approach connects to a broader shift in how independent music videos are made and experienced.
The conversation reveals a creative philosophy that's equal parts practical and ideological—one that values spontaneity, resists commercialization, and intentionally pushes back against the fan pilgrimage culture that has become common in anime and Vocaloid communities.
The Quick Version
- Iinoutsuha SA is a multi-creator who launched in May 2024 and handles both music production and video work, known for distorted sound and memorable melodies.
- She won Grand Prix at the Senkou Riot Vocaloid Stage and placed second in the Boccolle 2026 Winter Rookie Ranking.
- "Osanpo MV" refers to music videos built from footage shot during everyday walks and errands, rather than staged productions.
- Both creators actively avoid creating "seichi junrei" (pilgrimage sites) and deliberately choose remote locations to discourage fan visits.
- The style reportedly accounted for roughly 14% of entries in Boccolle 2025 Summer, marking a visible trend in the Vocaloid community.
What "Osanpo MV" Actually Means
The term "osanpo MV"—literally "walk-around music video"—describes a production approach rather than a strict visual genre. According to the interview, these videos are built from footage the creators capture while simply going out and filming during their everyday lives. Instead of scouting locations with a storyboard in hand or constructing elaborate sets, Iinoutsuha SA and Kanade shoot opportunistically: interesting signs, statues, alleyways, and overlooked urban objects they encounter while running errands or traveling.
Kanade explained that he's drawn to moments where reality intersects with two-dimensional and three-dimensional visual elements. He cited the influence of creator Kabanagu and the music video for "Sōzōjō no Speed" ("Imaginary Speed"), both of which blend live-action footage with animated or digitally manipulated layers. When he finds something visually compelling—a weathered sign, an unusual statue—he'll film it and sometimes even 3D-scan it for later use in his videos.
The aesthetic emerged from vlog-style shooting and travel documentation, with the goal of achieving a slightly science-fiction, end-of-the-world atmosphere while carefully avoiding shots of people. That last detail is important: these videos aim for a sense of emptiness and discovery, as if the viewer is wandering through a world just after everyone else has left.
Why These Creators Deliberately Hide Their Filming Locations
One of the most striking revelations from the interview is Iinoutsuha SA's firm stance against "seichi junrei"—the pilgrimage visits fans make to real-world locations featured in their favorite media. This practice has become deeply embedded in anime and game culture, with fans traveling to rural towns, train stations, and cafes that appear in beloved works. Tourism boards often encourage and monetize these pilgrimages.
Iinoutsuha SA takes the opposite view. She explained that she actively opposes the idea of fans making pilgrimage trips to the locations in her music videos, and she chooses filming sites specifically because they're difficult to reach. As an example, she noted that the MV for "Wasuremono Center ni Matane!" ("See You at the Lost and Found!") was shot at a location that requires roughly a 30-minute walk from the nearest train station—far enough to discourage casual visits and virtually impossible to stumble upon by accident.
This is more than a logistical choice; it's a creative and ethical stance. By making locations hard to find, she protects the spontaneity and anonymity that makes the footage feel authentic. The walking MV aesthetic depends on capturing ordinary, unglamorous spaces—places that would lose their quiet, liminal quality if they became destinations. It's a rejection of the commercialization that often follows popular media, and a way of keeping the work grounded in everyday experience rather than spectacle.
The Creative Process Behind the Videos
Both Iinoutsuha SA and Kanade described a highly organic workflow. Rather than planning shoots around specific songs, they accumulate footage over time—clips captured during trips, walks, or errands—and then fit those visuals to tracks later. Kanade mentioned that he often films objects he finds interesting even when he has no immediate project in mind, building a personal library of textures, shapes, and moments.
The approach allows for happy accidents and unexpected juxtapositions. A rusted sign filmed months ago might turn out to be the perfect visual anchor for a bridge section; a staircase shot on a rainy afternoon might set the mood for an entire verse. The process is less about executing a pre-planned vision and more about recognizing connections between sound and image after the fact.
This method also keeps production costs low and barriers to entry minimal, which aligns with the broader DIY ethos of the Vocaloid scene. Iinoutsuha SA handles both music and video herself, a workflow that's become increasingly common among younger creators who grew up with accessible editing software and distribution platforms.
How the Style Fits into the Broader Vocaloid Scene
While "osanpo MV" might sound niche, it appears to have gained meaningful traction within the Vocaloid community. One analysis suggested that the style became particularly visible during Boccolle 2025 Summer, with approximately 28 songs in the combined Top 100 and Rookie categories—roughly 14% of the sample—employing some version of the walking video aesthetic. That estimate comes from a single commentator's count, so we should treat it as an indication of a trend rather than a precise measurement, but it does suggest the approach resonated with both creators and audiences.
Iinoutsuha SA herself rose alongside this trend, beginning her activity in May 2024 and quickly earning recognition. By early 2026, she had won Grand Prix at the Senkou Riot Vocaloid Stage and placed second in the Boccolle 2026 Winter Rookie Ranking. She's also receiving requests for composition, arrangement, video production, and DJ appearances—evidence that her distinctive sound and visual style have found an audience beyond the initial MV uploads.
The style has also sparked interpretive discussion within the community. Some commentators argue that "osanpo MV" represents a broader trend toward deconstructing the boundaries between dimensions—blending live-action, 2D animation, and 3D models in ways that challenge neat categorization. Whether or not that's the creators' intent, the videos do resist easy labels, which seems entirely in keeping with their anti-pilgrimage, anti-commercialization ethos.
The Distorted Sound Aesthetic
The interview also touched on Iinoutsuha SA's use of heavily distorted sound—a signature element of her work that pairs naturally with the raw, unpolished visuals of the walking MV style. She's known for pushing audio into the red, embracing clipping and noise as expressive tools rather than technical flaws.
This approach mirrors the video aesthetic: both reject the glossy, over-produced polish that dominates much of mainstream music media. Just as the videos celebrate overlooked urban spaces and unspectacular moments, the music finds beauty in harshness and imperfection. It's a coherent artistic vision that runs through every layer of the work.
What People Are Saying
Fans and fellow creators have responded warmly to the interview and the creative philosophy it reveals. One listener remarked that they've always loved the "lonely, end-of-the-world feeling" in these kinds of videos, and now they understand it's intentional—not just a stylistic accident. The care taken to avoid creating pilgrimage sites struck them as genuinely respectful of both the locations and the viewers.
Another commenter appreciated the honesty about influences and process, noting that Kanade's willingness to credit Kabanagu and other inspirations makes the scene feel collaborative rather than competitive. They also pointed out that the 3D-scanning detail was a fascinating glimpse into how digital tools are being used in unexpected ways.
A third fan observed that the anti-pilgrimage stance might actually make the videos more compelling, because it preserves the mystery and sense of discovery. Knowing you can't visit the location somehow makes the footage feel more precious—like a secret the creator is sharing with you, rather than a product being marketed.
Frequently Asked Questions
When did Iinoutsuha SA start making Vocaloid music?
She began her activity in May 2024, so she's been creating for just over two years as of August 2026.
Where can I watch these "osanpo MV" videos?
Iinoutsuha SA's music videos are available on standard Vocaloid distribution platforms, though specific links weren't provided in the interview. Her work has appeared in Boccolle rankings and the Vocaloid Collection 2026 Winter lineup, so major Vocaloid video sites are the place to start.
What does "seichi junrei" mean, and why do these creators avoid it?
"Seichi junrei" translates to "sacred place pilgrimage"—the practice of fans visiting real-world locations featured in anime, games, or music videos. Iinoutsuha SA avoids it because she wants to protect the authenticity and quiet atmosphere of the places she films, and because she's opposed to the commercialization that often follows.
Is the distorted sound intentional or a production limitation?
It's entirely intentional. Iinoutsuha SA is known for her use of heavily distorted audio as an aesthetic choice, treating noise and clipping as expressive elements rather than flaws to be corrected.
How common is the "osanpo MV" style in the Vocaloid scene?
One analysis suggested it appeared in roughly 14% of entries in Boccolle 2025 Summer, though that's based on a single observer's count. It's visible enough to be recognized as a trend, but not so dominant that it defines the entire scene.
Why This Approach Matters
What makes the "osanpo MV" philosophy significant isn't just the visual style—it's the values embedded in the creative process. In an era when fan engagement is often measured in pilgrimage visits, merchandise sales, and social media check-ins, Iinoutsuha SA and Kanade are proposing a different relationship between creators and audiences. They're asking us to appreciate the work without trying to possess or commodify the spaces that inspired it.
The approach also demonstrates that compelling music videos don't require big budgets, elaborate sets, or professional crews. A phone camera, a willingness to notice overlooked details, and a thoughtful editing process can produce work that resonates deeply with viewers. That accessibility is central to the Vocaloid ethos, and it's encouraging to see it reaffirmed by creators finding success in 2026.
As Iinoutsuha SA continues to receive requests for composition, video work, and live appearances, we'll likely see whether this creative philosophy can scale—or whether it remains most powerful as an independent, low-key practice. Either way, the conversation she and Kanade have started about pilgrimage culture, creative authenticity, and the aesthetics of everyday spaces feels like an important one for the Vocaloid community and beyond.
