Currently spending time in Japan with his family, the Toronto-based artist connects with RANGE over Zoom to talk about how travel and shifting cultural spaces affect his creative mindset. There is an assumption that travel and creativity go hand in hand; immersion in new environments and bright stimuli as fuel for expression. However, Tanaka explains that it isn’t always so straightforward.

“I think creativity for me, that kind of creative space requires solitude and not a lot of planning,” he reflects. “Which travel is kind of contrary to.”

Travel is input — stimulus, sensation, observation. The writing comes later, in quieter spaces. And with the deliberate nature of this project, that distinction feeds further into understanding its careful construction.

Tanaka being in Japan while discussing Isan feels almost poetic. Taking time to see family and explore the sights brings the conversation back to the heart of the album.

“It all started in 2020, with my first solo album,” he says, as he begins to trace the origins of the project and the passage of time that led to its ultimate inspiration.

Isan translates to “inheritance” in Japanese, and the notion of inheritance — cultural, emotional, spiritual — sits at its core. The album’s origins feel intimate. Stemming from a Japanese hymnbook Tanaka inherited from his grandparents, what began as an heirloom became the catalyst for this 11-track exploration.

Each song draws from a different hymn, feeding off melodic and thematic material within the book. A concept album if ever there was one, themes of self and cultural identity are explored through Tanaka’s blend of rock, indie, and psych-folk. The stylistic shifts mirror the conflicting light and dark feelings that accompany cultural exploration and the unpacking of inherited emotions — and masks we wear.

That interplay between internal and external identity also manifests visually, as Tanaka dons a traditional Hyottoko mask. Online, the imagery can read as conceptual and avant-garde. In Japan, however, such masks are embedded in theatre and folklore traditions, commonplace rather than obscure.

Tanaka laughs when the mask’s supposed mystique abroad comes up. There’s no grand backstory — he bought the mask and cape himself.

For an album preoccupied with inheritance and identity, they feel apt. Masks are a means of performance and concealment; while Tanaka doesn’t position them as a literal metaphor, their presence invites interpretation. In a world where identity is constantly performed, particularly online, the idea resonates.

“Everything is now more of a video-first platform,” Tanaka notes as he discusses social media and modern artistic expression. It’s a simple observation that cuts to the core of contemporary consumption. Music no longer exists in isolation, with visual narrative often preceding the sound. Tanaka approaches this reality with measured awareness rather than cynicism. The masks and cohesive aesthetic surrounding Isan aren’t afterthoughts but extensions of its conceptual spine.

Still, at the centre is the music. An exploration of culture, history, and lineage; confronting inherited narratives and shaping them into something contemporary. In Tanaka’s hands, inheritance is complicated, mutable, and often beautiful — a vessel connecting past to future. Isan may begin with a hymnbook passed down through generations, but it ends as something entirely present: a portrait of an artist learning which masks to wear, which to remove, and which to redefine on his own terms.