Oneohtrix Point Never - Again (Album Review)

 

Oneohtrix Point Never - Again

(2023)

My copy: 2023 limited press on orange transparent vinyl by Warp Records.

Having built a strong reputation across a multitude of electronic projects, Daniel Lopatin now cashes in on his modern influence to compile what is likely his most ambitious project yet. Spanning over an hour, Again picks up where 2017’s Garden Of Delete left off, for better and for worse. Even with lush string arrangements and big-name features, Lopatin is unable to prevent Again from falling victim to some serious bloat.

Anxiety immediately unravels in the orchestral “Elseware” though this introductory track quickly straightens out into a beguiling arrangement that is unlike any “typical” Oneohtrix track. The ritual “Again” then dives headfirst into Lopatin’s usual world of chittering robots and droning vocal mimicry. Things begin more explorative - descending into the depths of some synthesized hell before fading and restarting. Acoustic flourishes fester alongside graveyards of uncanny samples, continuing Lopatin’s relationship with horror-adjacent concepts. Machine sounds whirr and churn like some maximalist assembly line on “World Outside,” with the actual sound fonts consisting of sweet chirps and digital squelches. The vocals here are too theatrical to work, and Lee Renaldo provides a much needed breather with strummed guitar before insanity takes hold again.

The gentle acoustic melodies of “Krumville” tie nicely into a berth of nature samples, providing some shelter from the bombardments of effects. Jamie Stewart of Xiu Xiu gives a tasteful vocal performance, though the core issue becomes obvious in Lopatin’s frantic habit of rebooting each song several times over. The erraticism could be forgiven in a stranger collection of sounds, but such surgery samples demand more consistent melodies (perhaps this is his subversion, but to me it is agitating). The emotional, vibrato-dripping outbursts of “Locrian Midwest” belong scoring a child’s finger painting session - that is to say these nostalgic splatters are some of his most unabashedly creative ideas per this project. 

Phone notification chimes come to life and organize their very own song on “Plastic Antique,” which then transforms with oceanic swells of noise. “Gray Subviolet” serves as a midpoint intermission of sorts with the NOMAD Ensemble returning: beginning as a tacky addendum before ascending to fiery, bent crescendo. Tapping back into vague horror themes, the glitching alarm tones of “The Body Trail” unnerve in strange rhythms - using patience at first but being overblown later. The dim, dungeon synth loops that open “Nightmare Paint” are sufficient until layers of more nonsense erase the track’s original personality. 

“Memories Of Music” and “On An Axis” are opposites in execution; the former playing to relatively lax beach-friendly synthwave as the latter finally embraces warm and bass-y drones over the album’s usual high-frequency assaults. Slowing to peaceful reflection, “Ubiquity Road” is of course defiled by eccentricity. Lopatin’s elastic approach to sound is unique and fun, but too overwhelming and untethered to match the haunting heights of his mid-career masterpieces. 

“A Barely Lit Path” and bonus track “My Dream Dungeon Makeover” are all sensory overload and very little actual substance. Daniel Lopatin is a visionary composer with an ear for the utterly surreal, but his modern body of work seems to forget a crucial adage: less is more.