In the span of four years, Oneohtrix Point Never's Daniel Lopatin has amassed a considerable fanbase with his dependably grand and elaborate synthesizer compositions in character with science-fiction imagery akin to Blade Runner, with towering, rigid skyscrapers and advertisements displayed on brightly lit LCD screens. Lopatin's futuristic metropolitan fantasy world stemmed from his monumentally dizzying drones and fixation on warm, vintage timbres. Along with his equally notable contemporaries Emeralds, Oneohtrix Point Never became a steadfast patron of new age's engagement to the avant-underground.
This year has brought forth many synth-wielding experimentalists, and to see Oneohtrix Point Never divert from the omnipresence of electro-psychedelia is unsurprising. At odds with what many would forecast to follow the dance-pop of his Channel Pressure collaboration with Joel Ford, Lopatin has opted to take a remarkably imaginative approach to his recollection of retro-futurism. Replica is a predominantly sample-ridden concoction of audio gleaned from television ad compilations and nuanced by his trademark down-tuned synth swells.
Despite Lopatin's logically new direction, it's amply polarizing to give his followers an inkling that Replica is a misstep, as distinct as it is. Opener "Andro" and "Submersible" stand as OPN's habitual offerings which appear somewhat anomalous when observed within the album's context. Comparable to The Field's latest Looping State of Mind-- especially its closer "Sweet Slow Baby"-- the album keenly exploits repetition in an off-kilter, stuttering fashion. "Sleep Dealer" bounces on an anxious piano phrase and chopped, breathy cuts and is sweetened by quirky analog keys and sweeping undulations. It has a stark and ghostly mien, clashing with nostalgic quirks. "Nassau" follows a hiccuping cadence and pairs it with slurps, splashes, and woozy piano thuds.
On the other side of the coin are tracks like "Up" and "Child Soldier" that channel Lopatin's humorous side: "Up" grooves along tom rolls and a goofy uttering of the title while "Child Soldier" bravely filters the astuteness of IDM through a punchy stop-start throb of children and lasers. These dissimilar squiggles and repetitions don't necessarily alloy, but if not for their schizophrenic arrangement, Replica's beautifully haphazard and jittery mania wouldn't exist. Lopatin employs unparalleled artistry on this effort, bearing a flash in the pan and a compatible addition to the OPN catalog. Like the TV ad compilations from which it pulls, Replica is an open trove of past relics.
[Oneohtrix Point Never Website]
[Stream/Buy Replica from Software]
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