Jean-Michel Blais was ready to make an epic. mirador, the pianist-composer’s fourth album, finds the Montrealer turning his gaze onto a wondrous world—exchanging contemporary minimalism for a light and generous maximalism. It’s an odyssey that spans choirs, strings and the music of the Andes, from Spanish caves to Estonian forests and all the way back to the basement in Nicolet, Québec, where Blais first imagined adventures.

After 375 million streams and the biggest concerts of his life, the origins of mirador were remembrances from childhood. As a musical kid—and, even if he wasn’t fully aware of these things yet, as a queer person, with Tourette’s—Blais’ basement was his imaginary lookout, his “mirador,” from which he could dream the world. There, he’d browse in wonder through a Larousse encyclopaedia; he’d play with the family’s cheap Hammond organ and endlessly replay the same cassettes.

On mirador, Jean-Michel Blais offers a path back to childhood—cut a crown from a piece of paper and suddenly you have a kingdom.