Words by Ethan Kung / Photos by Leila Farhi
There was a humor in walking up to the entrance of the Wiltern and the hecticness surrounding it, knowing that such a bustling place was housing Ichiko Aoba. The Japanese folk singer-songwriter’s music is famously naturalistic and fantastical, evoking mental images that completely oppose Koreatown’s bustling urban heart. But that contrast is precisely what made the idea of the show so exciting, as there’s no better way of momentarily escaping the busyness of reality than through Aoba.
Perhaps fittingly, Aoba’s music first gained popularity at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic with her critically acclaimed 2020 record, Windswept Adan. Based on a nonexistent sci-fi fantasy movie that she imagined, it tells the story of a young girl exiled from civilization to the mystical island of Adan. Speaking to the collective despair of a planet trapped indoors with only the 24-hour news cycle for company, Windswept Adan’s fusion of chamber folk, jazz, and ambient gave people what they needed – a portal to a softer, gentler place. This year’s Luminescent Creatures scratches a similarly escapist itch for a similarly trying moment in time, instead discusses Aoba’s recent adventures in the actual islands and oceans of Japan.
To begin the night, opener Owen Pallett entered the stage shoeless while dressed in a blue button up and jeans, carrying a presence that at first seemed to be a far cry from anything ethereal. But their appearances and endearingly awkward stage banter quickly proved to be deceiving, as the beauty in Pallett’s style of music slowly unfolded. Switching between a guitar and a violin fed into a loop pedal, the experimental baroque pop musician used the two to create everything from the sounds of wild animals, massive waves of bass, and even tribal percussion. “That’s When The Audience Died” embodied their style the best, with Pallett gradually building the piece up from scratch while their voice danced with haunting strings. It was a surreal but deeply human performance, one that was able to tap into the same otherworldly energy that Aoba does.
After Pallett was done immersing the audience, it was Aoba’s turn to take the reins. Stepping out in a dazzling white dress with the Wordless Music Quintet, her ensemble for the night, Aoba slowly sat down at her piano. Only the shuffling of restless bodies could be heard in the theater as the audience held their breath in anticipation – in the moment, it felt like the rest of the universe had ceased to exist. But when the electronic birdsong of “Space Orphans” became faintly recognizable, Aoba’s piano and the strings of the Quintet slowly stirred to life, and a new universe blossomed to replace it. As a projection of aquatic visuals manifested behind her, Aoba finally let out her breathtaking voice, and the Wiltern was transported to Adan.
For the beginning run of her set, Aoba played a diverse selection of the most dreamlike songs from across her discography. The waltzing strings of “Meringue Doll” and “amuletum” maintained the palpable excitement of the room – they’re just about her most upbeat and “poppy” tracks while still capturing a surreal spirit. “Sagu Palm’s Song,” a plucky highlight from Windswept Adan, transitioned the set to more of her dreamy folk tracks, giving Aoba the chance to show off her nimble guitar skills. “Adan no Shima no Tanjyosai” served as the closing to this segment of the set, with the Quintet’s soul-stirring strings and Aoba’s otherworldly voice making for an utterly breathtaking moment. The lyrical sentiment of the song also factored into this, with Aoba desperately calling out to the wildlife of the island, seemingly to no avail.
But as the combination of swirling keys and strings on “COLORATURA” began, nature returned her cries, starting the Luminescent Creatures segment of the show. While the album is as cosmically inclined as anything else in Aoba’s discography, its relative intimacy truly shined with just six people on stage. Deeper cuts from the album like “aurora” and “prisomnia” were stripped back even further, putting a renewed focus on Aoba who, of course, was up to the task. Aoba’s performance carried a quality that’s hard to put into words, because as famously graceful as they are in her recordings, they may actually be even more powerful in the live setting. The audience seemed to recognize this, going nearly silent throughout every song with polite applause following – it was easily one of the most respectful crowds I’ve seen.
While the Wordless Music Quintet added new beauty to the tracks that they were on, letting Aoba take the spotlight on others underscored the thematic sentiments of the album. On singles “FLAG” and “SONAR,” Aoba lyrically reminisces on the isolation of life around and beneath the oceans. During the show, she took on these songs alone with her guitar and piano, making the songs feel even more intimate and lonely. However, just about every track she played, no matter how instrumentally or lyrically sparse, reflected on connection – from befriending mythological demons on “mazamun” to learning the ceremonial tunes of remote islands on “24° 3′ 26.98″ N, 123° 47′ 7.5″ E.” While Aoba’s music is a potent method of escapism, her live show highlighted how she still treats humanity and connection as things that are inevitable, if not necessary. “I am so happy to be here,” Aoba said to the crowd during a brief intermission. “And I hope, always, that music will protect us.”
After wrapping up her main set and leaving the stage with the Quintet, Aoba quickly returned alone for an encore. Playing a beautiful version of fan-favorite “bouquet” with only her guitar, she then carefully unplugged the instrument and moved to sit at stage’s edge to perform “Omedetou no Uta” without even a microphone. In its last moments, Aoba’s universe was shrunk down to its most intimate and perfect form – just one woman and one instrument uniting a room of thousands through music at its rawest.
Stepping out of the Wiltern with the rest of the crowd, it felt like a weight had been lifted. People of all ages were in high spirits, wandering out into the city as they lumped praise onto Aoba’s performance and said bittersweet goodbyes to their friends. Despite having spent the past two hours blissfully disconnected from it, reality and all its busyness suddenly had a new, luminescent glow.
You can listen to Luminescent Creatures below:
