The first I really let Oneohtrix Point Never into my brain was after I’d discovered anxiety. Panic had been just under the surface for years with me, but it finally came to a head about 4 years ago. This was also around the same time I bought R Plus Seven. I was pulled into its ghostly world of samples, aged synths, and alien-esque melodies. Daniel Lopatin was conducting a synthetic orchestra of detached melancholy and radiating circuits. I’d never heard anything like what he was doing. I’d dabbled in electronic music up to this point, but other than Boards Of Canada, nothing had ever really grabbed me quite like OPN.
I’d soon amassed quite a bit of his work. Most of it, actually. The earlier records were swaths of ambient tones and ethereal sounds. The ghostly noise has been there since the beginning, but on his first album Betrayed In The Octagon, things were especially new age-meets-psychedelia. Each successive record got more experimental, and outward. Where earlier records were like a shy kid that would occasionally make a weird face or blurt out a strange word, the newer albums were becoming more like the shy kid growing into himself. The records had the feeling of being comfortable in their own skin, regardless of what color that skin was or what planet the kid was from.
How does this work into panic and anxiety? For me, the music of OPN felt like this warm cocoon I could crawl into and calm myself. Even the oddities found on Replica and Returnal were a welcome reprise from the made up doom that would occasionally drop over my head and suffocate me with imagined terror. I’d held onto so much over the years and “toughed it out” when things got heavy that I never stopped to let that existential fear wash over me and deal with it. The fear had decided it was ready to deal with me, whether I was ready for it or not. The music of Daniel Lopatin sounded like the white and grey noise in my brain. Sitting in it there was a feeling of calming. It was like suffocating out the fire before it became all-consuming in my head. There was no great trauma that this sudden bout of anxiety came from. It was more like years of worry building up and up and up until it needed to be released into the world. My world. But listening to Lopatin’s soundscapes was a “take five” kind of moment. I could sit back and look at what was happening to my brain and see the fear and panic wasn’t anything but that. I was existentially “walking it off”.
Oneohtrix Point Never helped me gather my senses.
Daniel Lopatin and Oneohtrix Point Never have a new album coming out June 1st. It’s called Age Of and I’m very excited for it. I might be more excited for this album than any other this year. OPN not only speaks my language, but reinterprets it in a way that makes things much more understandable. As his music becomes even more alien and forward-thinking, I seem to grasp to it even tighter. It becomes more transcendent. That’s how music should be.
If it’s working, that’s how art should be.
If you told me that Daniel Lopatin was actually from another planet or dimension that wouldn’t surprise me a bit. The music he creates as Oneohtrix Point Never is otherworldly electronic in nature. It’s progressed from drone-y ambient on his debut Betrayed In The Octagon to the more deep space pop ambitions of 2015s Garden Of Delete. From building mystique and mood in his songs to the ghostly production that goes to help create the OPN worlds on each of his excellent albums, Lopatin is one of the most unique and original voices working in electronic music.
Getting to the point that OPN is at, one may wonder where to go from here. Daniel Lopatin went the film scoring route, first working with Brian Reitzell on Sofia Coppola’s The Bling Ring and now on The Safdie Brothers’ Good Time. Oneohtrix Point Never always seemed like a good way to go to score a film and this excellent LP proves it. It’s intense, propulsive, and one of the best albums of the year.
If you’re at all familiar with OPN, then you know sort of what to expect when hitting play. Lopatin’s film work doesn’t stray too far from his albums. Listening to albums like Replica and R Plus Seven it’s easy to imagine them scoring some imaginary film. Maybe some dystopian sci fi flick, or some hedonistic, neon-lit trek through a city night life. Good Time is sort of like the latter. It concentrates on two brothers, one of which has a learning disability and is caught by the cops after a robbery attempt. The other brother spends a night trying to locate the funds that would pay his brother’s bail. It seems to be one long panic attack, and Oneohtrix Point Never seems to have scored that attack beautifully.
There’s some great contrast throughout this LP. Something like “Hospital Escape/Access-A-Ride” is sleek and moves along like slow burning dread, while “Bail Bonds” starts with some of the film’s dialogue that begins to warp and melt into a propulsive synth. It dissolves into a distorted beat and what sounds like wavering guitar. “Entry To White Castle” has a Tangerine Dream/Michael Mann feel to it. There’s a real 80s vibe. “Romance Apocalypse” once again summons the great Tangerine Dream here, bringing to mind their work on Kathryn Bigelow’s Near Dark. “The Acid Hits” has the bizarro musical insanity brewing in it that Lopatin cooked up on his own excellent album Returnal.
Daniel Lopatin does what you’d hope he would do, and that’s make an excellent Oneohtrix Point Never record. He does that easily. I haven’t seen Good Time yet, but I can only imagine how well this record and the film work together. For me, though, the absolute highlight is the final track “The Pure And The Damned”. It’s a collaboration with Iggy Pop and it’s pure and weird and beautiful. It’s probably the most upfront song Lopatin has ever written. Pop gives one of his most earnest and honest performances in years. It’s a piano-driven song with lyrics that evoke such huge emotions and this child-like honesty that I think encapsulates the relationship between the brothers in the film. It’s hard to describe. It’s just beautiful.
Daniel Lopatin continues to explore and reinvent his musical alter ego known as Oneohtrix Point Never. His Good Time Soundtrack is one of the most engaging listens of the year; it’s dark, intimate, bombastic, and it beats wildly with an analog heart.
8.8 out of 10
Flying Lotus, aka Steve Ellison, has been somewhat of an obsession of mine for the past couple of years. His beats are like these liquid-y flows that carry psychedelic melodies through the ether. His music is transformative. There seems to be a constant state of movement and reforming. It’s hip hop-based, for sure. But as his albums have progressed there’s a sense of jazz free form composing going on. It’s electronic music, but it sounds organic. Even the weirder stuff seems like if you threw it into the earth it would act as compost and come back as something newer, greener, and heartier. I also think that for a lot of folks only about 25% of what Ellison makes is something you’d want to hit repeat on. Maybe 20%. Me? I went all in with Flying Lotus after I bought You’re Dead! back in 2014. It was so out there at times, yet the underlying rhythms kept me going back. It’s like Ellison is the Zappa or Beefheart of the electronic/hip hop/breakbeat world. J Dilla kept it mostly with beats and groove, where Flying Lotus took it one(or two or three) steps further by adding this alien personality in it.
I’m sure I’ve said all this before in previous rants, so sorry.
This time I’m here to say that if you were ever on the fence with Flying Lotus or you prefer him in smaller doses, then the Reset EP is for you. I saw this one sitting at my local record store for the longest time and wondered if I should pick it up. I hadn’t done much research on it and wasn’t sure if it was an EP or single. Turned out it was Ellison’s debut with Warp Records and it came out a few months before his excellent Los Angeles(another album I think the “on the fence” crowd would really dig as a whole.) So a couple months back I grabbed Reset EP and am glad I did.
There’s not much to it, really. It’s 6 tracks and they’re spread over two sides of a 12″. What it lacks in songs, it makes up for in quality songs. “Tea Leaf Dancers” is a sultry, groove-heavy track complete with soulful vocals by Andreya Triana. Strangely enough I could hear a certain Thom Yorke singing this one, too. It snakes along at its own pace. This one really shows the genius in Ellison’s approach to building a beat and committing with some serious melody. “Vegas Collie” is just an absolute killer beat. It’s seems to be unraveling and reforming before your very ears. Wonky sounds and video game noises come in and out of the mix. It’s one of those tracks you see some slow motion kung fu fighting happening as this blasts your ear holes. “Massage Situation” is more languid grooves and expertly placed vocal samples. “Spicy Sammich” sounds like a galactic jungle rhythm Miles Davis might’ve dreamt up in a fever dream. It’s very moody and dark before the snare kicks in and things get very street level. “Bonus Beat” has a video game quality to it, like something Ellison would’ve come up with for his Cartoon Network music montages. “Dance Floor Stalker” sounds like its name. You can almost picture some weirdo heading out on the dance floor looking for some unsuspecting victim to gyrate next to. It’s a quirky 808 beat with wonky noises laid out throughout. Perfect way to end a debut.
Like I said, within months of this EP Flying Lotus released his second Warp Records release, the excellent Los Angeles. Reset EP is very much in the vein of that album. Ellison had yet to truly fly his freak flag on this one. Here he’s honing his beatmaking skills to the nth degree. It’s a swift shot of liquid beats and organic clicks and clacks with some serious street grit and groove.
Now if you’ll excuse me, there’s a spicy sammich with my name on it waiting for me.