Raystorm by Zuntata: A Retro Sonic Odyssey That’s Still Weirdly Cool
Let’s get one thing straight—1996 was a wild year. People were still figuring out what the internet was, Tamagotchis were about to ruin lives worldwide, and somewhere in Japan, Zuntata dropped Raystorm, an album so ahead of its time it might as well have been beamed in from 2023. This soundtrack/electronic hybrid is like if Daft Punk decided to score your favorite sci-fi arcade game while sipping green tea. It’s weird, it’s wonderful, and honestly? It slaps.
First off, props to Tamayo Kawamoto for composing this beast and Munehiro Nakanishi for engineering the chaos into something listenable. The genres here are all over the place—modern classical vibes rub shoulders with techno beats and ambient soundscapes—but somehow, it works. Like peanut butter on toast… but also pizza. You wouldn’t think that combo would fly, but dang if it doesn’t taste good.
Now let’s talk tracks because there are a lot of them (seriously, someone needed an editor). Two stood out to me after multiple listens—or maybe just random skips through Spotify:
1. “Aquarium (Haishima Arrange)”: If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be trapped inside a lava lamp while dolphins whisper secrets into your ear, this track has got you covered. It starts off dreamy enough, but then BAM!—those synths hit like a rogue wave at high tide. I kept expecting David Attenborough to narrate over it: “And here we see the majestic electron, gliding gracefully through the circuits of its natural habitat.” It’s hypnotic, slightly disorienting, and oddly soothing—all at once. Perfect for zoning out during rush hour or pretending you’re some kind of intergalactic marine biologist.
2. “Juggler (Boss 1)”: Oh man, this one hits different. Imagine being chased by robots armed with glow sticks—that’s basically the vibe here. It’s frantic, pulse-pounding stuff, designed to make your heart race faster than a caffeinated hamster on a wheel. Every beat feels like it’s daring you to keep up, which makes sense given it’s labeled as “Boss 1.” Whoever said video game music can’t give you anxiety clearly never heard this banger. But hey, stressful or not, it’s impossible to forget. Bonus points for making me want to fight imaginary enemies in my living room.
The rest of the album follows suit—part moody atmospheres, part dance-floor anthems, all stitched together with meticulous attention to detail. Tracks like “Coeur de Céramique (Piano & Quartet Arrange)” bring the elegance, while others like “Slaughter Hour (Area 7)” crank up the intensity until your speakers start sweating. There’s even a cheeky little ditty called “Hard Number (Stage Clear)” that sounds suspiciously like victory itself distilled into audio form.
But here’s the kicker: listening to Raystorm feels less like experiencing a traditional album and more like wandering through a museum exhibit curated by aliens who really dig minimalist Japanese art. Some pieces resonate immediately; others leave you scratching your head and muttering, “Huh?” And yet, despite its quirks, it’s hard not to admire the sheer ambition behind it all.
So yeah, Raystorm isn’t perfect—it’s messy, repetitive, and occasionally baffling—but isn’t that kinda beautiful? In a world full of cookie-cutter playlists and algorithm-approved hits, this album reminds us that music doesn’t always need to play nice. Sometimes it just needs to exist, bold and unapologetic, like a neon sign blinking in the dark.
Final thought: If they ever remake Raystorm as a Netflix series, I’m calling dibs on playing the glow-stick-wielding robot villain.
