Japan

Hailing from both Japan and Chicago, Issei Uno Fifth is more than just another name in hip-hop and R&B—he’s a force of raw talent and authenticity. Bursting onto the scene in 2021, he quickly grabbed attention by winning a TikTok Spotlight music competition. But it was his breakout moment with Outta Time (feat. JP THE WAVY), a collaboration with Rodeo that landed in a commercial, that truly turned heads.

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Despite his growing success, Issei’s journey wasn’t always smooth. He spent his formative years in Chicago before moving back to Japan, where he faced resistance from his own family about pursuing music. But with sheer determination, he transformed his passion into reality. On February 19, he dropped his first full-length album, Dear Mama, a deeply personal project that serves as both a love letter to his mother and a bold declaration of his place in the industry.

Billboard Japan sat down with him to talk about his inspiration, the struggles behind his artistry, and why he’s all about staying true to himself.

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Congrats on your debut album! I heard that it’s an oath to your mom. What inspired you to make something so personal?

I spent my teenage years in Chicago, but when I moved back to Japan at the end of 2023, that’s when I really committed to music. At first, my parents were completely against it. My entire family, extended relatives included, all work in healthcare. It was like an unspoken rule that I’d follow the same path.

So when you told them about your dream, how did they react?

I was 17, sitting at the dinner table, and just blurted out, “I’m quitting school. I’m gonna make a living off music.” (laughs) My parents froze. The room went completely silent—like they couldn’t even process what I had just said.

For three years, they fought me on it. They couldn’t understand why I would throw away stability to chase something so uncertain. But over time, they saw how serious I was—I wasn’t just dreaming, I was putting in the work. And eventually, they came around. Now, they’re fully on board.

So when it came time to create my first album, I wanted it to be a statement—not just to my mom, but to the world. This is my way of saying, “My journey as an artist starts here.”

So nobody in your family expected you to become an artist.

Not at all. The first time I ever even mentioned making music was when I wrote my first song, “Could do better,” at 17. That was the moment I first challenged the unspoken rule in my family—everyone was expected to follow a “normal” path, especially in healthcare.

At that dinner table, when I told them my decision, they were stunned. For the next three years, they refused to accept it. But I was relentless—I kept making music, kept proving that this wasn’t just a phase. Eventually, they saw that I wasn’t giving up, and now they fully support me.

So when I was making this album, I asked myself: “What do I want to say with my first full-length project?” And the answer was clear—I wanted to make an oath to my mother, a declaration that this is the beginning of my career.

I see. So that’s what led to the oath. What was life like for you as a small child?

As a kid, I was always searching for the right answer—like everything had to be perfect. My parents never said it outright, but there was this pressure to live up to a certain standard.

This album is the embodiment of my resolve to be myself. Music gave me the freedom I never had growing up, and that’s why this message is so important to me. Seeing how listeners connect with my music—that reassures me that I made the right choice.

And that’s exactly what this album represents.

Looking at the different songs on the album, you’re not just singing about different kinds of love, but also about your growth, struggles, and resolve as an artist.  Did your values or way of thinking change at all through the creation process? 

Yeah, definitely. Before, I used to think that love only exists when it’s acknowledged by someone else—like, if nobody sees it, then it’s not real. But through the process of making this album, I realized love isn’t something that needs validation. Even if no one’s there to receive it, you can still put love into the world. That shift in perspective was a huge step forward for me, both as a person and as an artist.

One of the songs on the album, “CHA CHA AI feat. LEX, JP THE WAVY (Prod. A.G.O)” is already streaming. When did you come up with the phrase “CHA CHA AI”? 

When I was working on this song, I started noticing that a lot of people were suddenly trying to get close to me—and not all of them had good intentions. It made me think about the difference between real love and fake love. At first, I considered calling the song something like “Fake Love” or “Plastic Love,” but those phrases felt too predictable, too expected. They didn’t really match my creative instincts. While I was listening to the melody over and over, the phrase “cha cha” popped into my head. In Japanese, “cha cha” is a playful term that means teasing or joking. Pairing it with “ai” (love) gave it a unique twist—it kept the song’s message about questioning love, but in a way that felt lighthearted and fun instead of overly serious. It was the perfect balance.

It’s perfectly balanced. I heard you did the art for “CHA CHA AI” yourself?

Yeah! Since the theme was “love,” I wanted to create something personal and hands-on, something that felt truly mine. But at the same time, I didn’t want to go the typical route—I wanted to do something that other artists wouldn’t think of doing. One day, I was at a team member’s house, and out of nowhere, they handed me a box with twelve different colors of clay and said, “Make something.” So I just went for it—no sketches, no overthinking—just pure creativity in the moment. That’s how the artwork came to life, completely spontaneous and unfiltered.

The love really comes through in “CHA CHA AI.” You collaborated on this song with LEX and JP THE WAVY. What led to that collaboration?

JP THE WAVY had gotten involved in on an event by Takashi Murakami by making the theme song. He reached out to LEX and I and we put on a show. It all started when the three of us came together. Then right after that, JP THE WAVY invited us to a writing camp, and the three of us were all together again. That’s when I felt, intuitively, that the three of us should work on my next song. I thought, “If all three of us work on a song together, we’ll create something wonderful.”

You worked with an illustrious group of producers on the album. How did you feel when you found out they would be producing it?

Honestly, I was just grateful to have the opportunity to work with such incredible producers. Before we even started working on Dear Mama, I flew to South Korea to meet with all of them in person. We didn’t just talk about music—we hung out, got to know each other, and made sure we really vibed on a personal level. They’re all amazing people, and from the moment we connected, I knew I wanted to start creating with them right away. When I shared my vision for the album and the kind of songs I wanted to make, they sent back tracks that were beyond perfect—they captured exactly what I had in mind, sometimes even before I put it into words. The whole production process was surprisingly smooth, and it felt like each of us brought something unique to the table. In the end, all these different talents and influences came together to create something even deeper than I had imagined.

Now, I’d like to ask you a little bit about yourself. I gather that you’ve listened to all kinds of music since you were very young, and music has always been close to you. What led you to start making music yourself?

During the pandemic, I got stuck in Japan and couldn’t go back to the U.S. For about three months, I was completely cooped up at home, unable to do much of anything. I had so much time on my hands, and at some point, I just thought, “Okay, I’ll write a song.” That moment led to me writing my first track ever—”Could do better.” Looking back, that was the turning point.

Since “Could do better,” you’ve written a lot of hip-hop tracks. What do you see as hip-hop’s appeal?

For me, hip-hop is all about freedom—there’s no single right answer, no strict formula. You can say anything, be completely raw and honest, and that’s what makes it so powerful. Before I got into hip-hop, I mostly listened to highly polished pop music—everything was clean, structured, and carefully crafted. But when I moved to Chicago and really experienced hip-hop for the first time, it shook me. I remember thinking, “Wait… you can actually say stuff like that in a song?” It left a huge impact on me—seeing how artists could expose their emotions, struggles, and thoughts without holding back. That kind of realness was something I had never experienced before in music, and it made me want to create hip-hop myself.

You’ve experienced both Japan and the U.S. What differences do you find in the Japanese and overseas hip-hop scenes?

In Chicago, hip-hop is more than just music—it’s survival. People are hustling like their lives depend on it, doing whatever it takes to make a living. Sometimes, that even means turning to the streets. There’s this intense, unshakable mindset of “I have to do this. This is my way to survive.” Being around that energy made me respect the grind, but it also made me reflect. I thought, “I’m influenced by this world, but I don’t need to take it to that extreme.”

As for Japan’s hip-hop scene, I’ve only been back for about a year, so I’m still discovering things. But one major difference I’ve noticed is the fine line between imitation and inspiration. Some artists here are still figuring out how to make hip-hop their own, rather than just replicating what’s happening overseas.

For me, it’s about inspiration—taking the essence of hip-hop and making something that’s truly mine. I think it’s crucial to find that balance between respecting the culture and staying true to your own vision.

Be yourself, and don’t be afraid to take action. I used to overthink everything before making a move. I’d get caught up in doubts, second-guessing myself, and that fear would slow me down. But looking back, I realize—I should’ve just trusted myself from the start.

The world is massive, and somewhere out there, there’s a place where you’ll be accepted exactly as you are. You don’t need to fit into someone else’s expectations—just focus on being the real you.

I want to create music that feels like a safe space for people who are struggling to find where they belong. If you’ve ever felt lost, just know—I see you, I hear you, and I’m right here with you.

So let’s move forward together. I got you. Let’s do this together.

–This interview by Azusa Takahashi first appeared on Billboard Japan