From the opening seconds of Wheels of Ömon, Japanese trio KUUNATIC swing a hypnotic pendulum — a raw, buzzing riff cuts through like a ritual saw, while modal harmonies of layered grrl-chant swirl overhead in a trance-dance invocation. It’s both grounded and celestial, immediately otherworldly but unmistakably alive. The trio’s sound is mythological rock theatre: equal parts thunderous, meditative, and totally sui generis.
Across eight tracks, KUUNATIC transport listeners deep into their fantasy mythos — the imagined planetary orbit of Ömon, Kuurandia, and Klüna — with each piece mapped to a distinct ritual moment within a fictional 45-hour celestial cycle. Where prog, psych, and world-building converge, KUUNATIC light their own cosmic bonfire.
The Sound of Folk Time-Space Travel
There’s something ancient stitched into these frequencies. While grounded in tribal drums and fuzzed-out bass grooves, Wheels of Ömon integrates an evocative arsenal of traditional Japanese instruments: the shrill keening of the sho, the flickering of sasara, the pulse of ougidaiko, and the breath of ancient flutes like ryuteki and kagurabue. But this isn’t a reverent throwback to court music — it’s genre alchemy. The result sounds like a festival for gods who haven’t yet been invented.
“Yellow Serpent” exemplifies this fusion: a softly plucked string motif rides in, joined by a serene chant that slowly folds in tribal percussion, lo-fi keyboard stabs, and a counter-melody that could only come from a toy sampler possessed by spirits. There’s a layered honesty here — part analog ceremony, part digital dream.
World-Building with Prophets and Mountains
KUUNATIC’s strength lies not only in their sound but in their vision. This album doesn’t merely contain myth — it is myth. Like Magma’s invented language and planet, KUUNATIC’s cosmos is complete, yet open-ended, rooted in fantasy yet inspired by history. They speak of the Alps and the Rhône as much as fictional lakes of healing on distant moons. That mix — of vast imagination and grounded anthropology — gives Wheels of Ömon its psychic depth.
“Kuuminyo” stands out not just for its haunting rhythm, but for featuring Rekpo, an Ainu singer whose presence infuses the song with real-world cultural gravitas. Her performance of the traditional song “Hanro” adds a piercingly human edge — a chant across time and space, echoing both forgotten rituals and future ceremonies.
If Gate of Klüna (2021) was KUUNATIC’s bold thesis — a “hello world” from beyond the veil — then Wheels of Ömon is their manifesto. It’s denser, more nuanced, and infinitely more ambitious. Yet it never drowns in its own lore. These songs breathe. They pulsate. They move.
You don’t need to understand the Ömon system to feel the gravity. You just need ears open to wonder.
This one’s for the listeners who miss the way music used to transport you — not just emotionally, but cosmically. KUUNATIC doesn’t offer escapism. They offer world-building as resistance. And joy.
