Infinite Lovers came together as a kind of rebirth. I was stepping into new territory artistically, moving away from a previous project. I decided to release this music under my given name, shedding an old artistic identity. It felt like the right move — a more honest expression of the kind of music I wanted to make.
I approached each track almost like a painting. Ambience functions as a way of architecting space, with movement introduced slowly over time. I’ve always had a slower approach to my arrangements — it reflects how I feel internally. I try to be patient with the sounds I’m creating, listening closely to how each one connects to the next. The focus is less on arrangement at first, and more on creating spaces I can sit in for hours. Once the space feels right, everything after that unfolds pretty naturally.
There’s a certain sweetness that runs through the record — something from the heart. It feels like my voice, an emotional signature that holds everything together. As long as that’s there, I can get weird with it, moving into more abstract territory.
The photographs used for the artwork came later, but felt immediately connected. I found them while going through my grandparents’ house in Japan before it was torn down — images my grandfather took. They were preserved and repurposed as a visual counterpart to the album. There’s a haunting stillness to them, yet a sense of movement — much like the record.
