Ichiko Aoba’s albums are like gateways to distant worlds. While her unique blend of ethereal folk music has been enchanting audiences in Japan for more than 15 years, she remains largely unknown on foreign shores.
The release of 2018’s qp saw ripples extend to Western ears for the first time. It’s an achingly delicate album that features Aoba’s nylon guitar and gossamer vocals in isolation, crafting a sparse and bewitching atmosphere akin to that of Nick Drake’s Pink Moon, but with light in place of darkness.
Aoba’s music gained greater attention in the wake of 2020’s Windswept Adan, an ambitious concept album adorned with sweeping Studio Ghibli-esque orchestrations that elevated her music to new heights.
Luminescent Creatures is yet another portal into a realm that feels both ancient and new. Opening with ‘COLORATURA’, the scene is set with a dreamy kaleidoscope of folk, classical, and jazz that’s synonymous with every Aoba record. It’s followed by ‘24° 03′ 27.0″ N 123° 47′ 07.5″ E’, a fleeting sketch in comparison that’s no less majestic. The album continues to navigate a patchwork of complex and understated tracks that combine to create the sense of a winding, unpredictable journey.
At the heart of it all lies ‘FLAG’, a stripped-back song that echoes the raw brilliance of qp. Otherworldly vocal harmonies swirl freely above a precise guitar charting the irregular 5/8 time signature – a captivating juxtaposition that sums up the allure of Aoba’s music.
Luminescent Creatures is one of the most beautiful albums you’ll hear this year. Despite being just 36 minutes long, it leaves you feeling as though you’ve travelled a far greater distance, to a destination that beckons you back as soon as the needle pops up.
Dan Aston | Now Spinning Magazine
