![]() On this project, it makes sense for Lopatin to pour out the playfully dystopian signifiers that constitute OPN like toys on the carpet. MOPN ’s tonal and sonic erraticism is both refreshing and frustrating. “Push forth,” she instructs over wailing theremin, “through the membrane.” Even Arca makes an appearance on “Shifting,” reciting some haunted spoken word passages. Elsewhere, Lopatin pitches his version of John Hughes credits music with “No Nightmares,” featuring recent musical co-conspirator The Weeknd. ![]() “The Whether Channel” gently solidifies synth and string ambiance into oddball trap featuring Virginia SoundCloud rapper Nolanberollin. Speaking of collaborators, this is the most features-packed OPN album by a stretch. The animated drama of the electronic strings against the duo’s warped singing is unexpected bliss, only possible at this moment in Lopatin’s career. Naturally, Lopatin’s voice is produced to sound garbled and frayed-like a friendly demon. On “I Don’t Love Me Anymore” he sounds tinny and caffeinated, or perhaps like a fifth member of Animal Collective.īut nowhere are his vocal experiments more transcendent than on “Long Road Home,” a gleaming piece of demented baroque pop featuring experimental contemporary Caroline Polachek. On closer “Nothing’s Special,” his singing is mournful and uncharacteristically naked. On MOPN, his vocals are more frequent, techniques more varied. In an endearing move, Lopatin started to incorporate his voice in conspicuous ways on projects like Garden of Delete and Age Of, in nu metal shrieks or new age croons. When this ambience accents against MOPN ’s forays into pop music, it feels elevated. This expansive mood music, filtered through his lens of internet detritus, is what Lopatin has excelled at for years. The spacey, wandering synths on “Wave Idea” sound like a meditative lull plucked from the Uncut Gems or Good Time soundtracks Lopatin composed. The burnt out beauty of a song like “Imago” evokes wispy expressionistic mystery albums like Replica or Russian Mind did years ago. Of course, MOPN is not literally a rehashing of Lopatin’s old albums, but it does borrow a number of their styles while still pushing his penchant for pop abstraction further. It flows like a “best of” playlist of one of electronic music’s most innovative and indelible artists. MOPN ’s radio world is a clever motif that gives Lopatin carte blanche to dabble in a stunning number of genres, structures, and styles that he’s experimented with over the years-hence, the self-titling. The album title itself alludes to a Boston radio station, Magic 106.7, that Lopatin used as inspiration for the OPN moniker in a game of telephone-like logic. Winking, garbled radio ads are peppered throughout, both as interludes and vehicles to boost Lopatin’s nostalgia mythos. Electronic luminary Daniel Lopatin’s ninth record as Oneohtrix Point Never, Magic Oneohtrix Point Never, feels like the fusion of the two, old and new, into one. ![]() Both stick to a theme, but song formats can sharply diverge-one is charming and antiquated, the other sleek and utilitarian. The line between radio broadcast and playlist can be fine. ![]()
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