By Jenell Taylor, Contributor 

[HERMINE; 2025]

Key Tracks: “COLORATURA,” “Lucifèrine,” “pirsomnia“

Rating: 7/10

On Feb. 28, alternative indie artist Ichiko Aoba released a 35-minute album titled Luminescent Creatures. Her previous projects include a live album with musical group 12 Ensemble, released in 2023, and Amiko, the soundtrack for the 2022 film by the same name. With this current project, Aoba aims to relax and rejuvenate her audience with 11 tracks of pure bliss. 

Much like the album’s cover, Luminescent Creatures is gentle like a clear stream of running water, and cleanses listeners in the same way. Aoba’s vocals are soft yet never muffled, and her articulation is something to be appreciated. The opener, “COLORATURA” is flooded with the sound of a harp as she sings in Japanese. The lyrics translate to “To the lull of a gentle wave / Stormbreak, tailwind pushing us.” The track is mesmerizing, with flutes, chimes, the bright timbre of piano and Aoba’s soft whisper – as if in a lullaby. 

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As the tracks play on, the inspiration behind the album becomes very clear and rather poignant. In an interview with The Japan Times, Aoba reveals that this album was born out of her extended stays on Hateruma Island in Taketomi, Japan, dating back to 2013. During her time there, she grew close to the land and its residents, and covered a local folk song with the album’s second track, “24° 3’ 27.0’’ N, 123° 47’ 7.5’’ E.” Island inspirations are littered all throughout the album’s duration, as Aoba uses her voice as more than just a mere instrument. Her voice is the sound of strong waves meeting the shore, the sprinkle of sand in salty hair and the slight burn one may receive from lying in the sun’s rays for a little too long.

Aoba also shares with listeners a preposition for self-betterment and the idea of being still. On “tower,” she sings, “What was once known as magic / Whether it be distractions or deceptions / It matters not, if you remain.” Coupled with the mischievous trill of strings and  percussion, these lyrics have a quality that draws you in, even if you do not speak Japanese. It is a sentiment that anyone can hold onto, regardless of a barrier in language. To contrast this sound, “pirsomnia” diverts from the listlessly soft tone of the previous songs, to offer something more experimental. There are no true lyrics to this track, but rather Aoba’s vocals dancing in tune with sparkly electronic beats. This divergence is beautiful, and I wish we were able to hear more of this sound on the rest of the album.

Luminescent Creatures is a gorgeous body of work and a humble return to the stage for Aoba. That being said, with the album clocking at under an hour in length, I am not left without the feeling that there could have been a slight variation in the arrangement of its instrumentals. From track to track, the chords blend together (granted, gorgeously) and it becomes difficult to differentiate one song from the next. The brief encounter with electronic elements in “pirsomnia” made this a much more interesting listening experience, and more of that would have brought the album full circle. In its totality, Luminescent Creatures gives listeners a glimpse into Aoba’s trips to Hateruma, through her vast and polychromatic perspective. 

Listen here: