Anomalo is a toy-like FM radio with its antenna sticking up like a curious insect feeler, or a periscope, or maybe even a spine.
Most radios these days are shy. They hide everything — the buttons, the wires, the parts that do the work. Anomalo FM Radio? It does the opposite. It puts the antenna front and center, not as an afterthought, but as the whole damn backbone of the thing. And somehow, that changes everything.
It doesn’t sit quietly. It stands. Almost awkwardly, like a three-legged creature just figuring out how to balance. Its knobs and limbs stretch out from the center like it’s mid-transformation. I can’t explain it — it feels like a leftover relic from a world that almost existed, part machine, part toy, part sci-fi memory. But there’s something…emotional about it.
Tuning in a station on Anomalo FM Radio feels tactile again. Designed by ShinKogeisha, the twist of a knob, the faint crackle as it locks onto a voice or static. It’s not just “playing music,” it’s receiving signals, like a tiny alien interpreter sitting on your shelf, decoding the noise of the world. The wires are exposed in a way that feels more like veins than circuitry. There’s a strange intimacy in that like you’re seeing the radio’s pulse. It reminds you of those robots you used to build from junk.
When I was a kid, I made “robots” out of broken remote controls and coat hangers and stray screws. I’d imagine they were alive, full of hidden language, waiting to tell me something. Anomalo Radio feels like the grown-up version of that fantasy. Not too polished. Not sterile. Just strange enough to feel real.
