Oneohtrix Point Never ‘Tranquilizer’ Review: Expansive, Shape-Shifting Computer Music
The album is a demonstration of Daniel Lopatin’s mastery of structural tension.
WithTranquilizer, his 11th album under his Oneohtrix Point Never alias, Daniel Lopatin reaches deeply into a strange fusion of circuitry and biology that he hasn’t explored this directly since 2013’sR Plus Seven. A zone where synthetic tones mimic organic movement and vice versa, the album settles rather neatly into that charged space, glowing and glitching in equal measure, fragile in shape and built from pure artifice.
Composed entirely from audio samples scavenged from the Internet Archive,Tranquilizer feels like a spiritual successor to 2011’s melancholicReplica, which mined samples of TV ads sourced from VHS tapes from the ’80s and ’90s to forge its monochromatic sound. The material here is never as outright somber, but it drifts through similarly hazy currents of overwhelming dejection, punctuated by bursts of surreal bliss.
Tranquilizer begins with the sounds of rushing air and distant metallic tinkles, before a warped, froglike voice murmurs the song’s title, “For Residue,” and a seismic guitar strum ushers in a menacing soundscape. Marked by heavy breathing and a baby’s wails, the track is a brief yet mesmerizing preview of where the next 14 might go—which turns out to be just about anywhere, from the shimmering blast of piano reverb beautifully set against a barrage of electronic noise on “Bumpy,” to the hardcore techno switch-up that violently upends “Rodl Glide.”
By contrast, the undulating, otherworldly “Lifeworld” maintains its propulsive momentum throughout, layering bizarre, cyberized squeals and squelches around a deeply satisfying synth loop. Shades of skeletal drum and bass crackle like discharged lightning on “D.I.S.,” while the haunting and angular “Modern Lust” gestures toward lounge jazz.
At its most elemental, the album is a demonstration of Lopatin’s mastery of structural tension, with each component meticulously curated to interact, collide, and suggest progression without ever neatly resolving. Whenever a discernible element begins to emerge—synths, loops, field recordings—it mutates or fades, preventing us from ever fully processing what we’re hearing. This is provisional, ethereal work, always in flux, and Oneothrix Point Never’s brand of computerized music has rarely sounded this pulsatingly vibrant.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications likeSlant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to ourPatreon or making adonation.
Paul Attard
Paul Attard enjoys writing about experimental cinema, rap/pop music, games, and anything else that tickles their fancy. Their writing has also appeared inMUBI Notebook.
