The Cottagecore Noise of Magic Oneohtrix Point Never

Magic Oneohtrix Point Never (2020) is possibly Daniel Lopatin (the composer behind the moniker) at his most Oneohtrix Point Never. While this may sound like nonsense, let me explain. Following the release of the soundtracks to the Safdie Brother’s films Good Time (2017) and Uncut Gems (2020), and the album Age Of (2018)—not to mention older but perhaps more artistically poignant work in early albums like Rifts (2012) and Replica (2011)—Oneohtrix had much to live up to.

I’m happy to say that Magic Oneohtrix stands up, at least partially, to its predecessors. The album’s title itself gives us a bit of insight into Lopatin’s conceptual framework for the album. Rather than some oblique reference, Magic Oneohtrix Point Never seems to be a direct reference to the source of his stage name, the soft-rock radio station Magic 106.7. Radio and FM radio-culture are the loose structural framework and fantasy of this album. 

Oneohtrix Point Never’s ode to radio culture, which at times seems like a nostalgic culmination of his music-making and listening habits, also features songs that are deeply influenced by artists featured on the album. “No Nightmares” and “I Don’t Love Myself Anymore” remind me more of The Weeknd’s Abel Tesfaye, who not only has a feature on “No Nightmares” (along with Caroline Polachek), but also a co-production credit and apparently was Lopatin’s go-to for critique. 

These two tracks strike me as some of the weaker ones on the album, but they have some silver linings including the cinematic synth builds in “No Nightmares,” which track with Lopatin’s previous scoring work and certainly add to the feeling of the switching radio channels. 

Magic Oneohtrix Point Never begins with an intro titled “Cross Talk I,” one of the several interludes of radio samples and vocal/noise splices that are, in my humble opinion, the real highlight of this album. “Cross Talk I” sonically plays with analog and digital soundscapes, and provides us with an almost THX-style movie intro swell—perhaps a leftover from Lopatin’s last work, the Uncut Gems OST. 

“Cross Talk I” fades easily into “Auto and Allo,” which begins with a synth and snapping loop that sound like something you would hear at a Whole Foods, but then like turning a radio dial slightly, gets interesting with climbing and descending computer chimes interspersed with the typical OPN spliced and repeated vocal samples. 

“Auto and Allo” is one of the tracks that nods toward the ambient leanings of OPN that we will get more of later in the album, and features some baroque-style harpsichords. Cinematic crescendos are everywhere in this track and will make a comeback on almost every following song—a nod perhaps to the in and out signal of a car radio as you’re driving. 

Another track which I enjoyed, “Long Road Home,” sounds little like the more experimental OPN of Replica with it’s cutesy pop beat and haunting, sentimental double-tracked vocals. Yet, it tracks nicely from “Auto and Allo” and features some touches like screeching, scream-like distortions which make it entertaining. 

This song encapsulates much of the cuteness and heartwarming sentimentality that is littered throughout the album. The lyrics “doesn’t the sky look like maps to our house” are almost wistful, while Lopatin’s production adds in dissonant, paranoiac scratches and static. Together they pop up in differing levels throughout the whole album, which feels like a sort of fantasy digital age cottagecore soundscape.

This nostalgia and sentimentality abounds on the “Cross Talk” interludes. It’s funny, the second time I listened through this album the nostalgia and elemental sounds especially of songs like “Bow Ecco” along with the cuteness of pop-style semi-ballads like “Long Road Home” really made me think of cottagecore. 

Incidentally, in an interview with GQ, Lopatin speaks about this, saying: 

“New age music is interesting because it failed… The horizon that it’s reaching for—peace, solace—now that’s called cottagecore.” 

This album doesn’t so much revive new ageism as explores its failings and transformations in a hyper-saturated digital era to cottagecore.   

The highlights of this exploration come through most on the “Cross Talk” interludes—all of them are clearly experimenting with noise and play well with the radio and the dead silence/format flip “eulogies” that Lopatin collected online and features heavily. 

“Cross Talk IV/ Radio Lonelys” is the best of interludes, with the radio voices coming in loud with phrases that seem to sum up the whole album like: “the country will not die, it will just have a new home” and “There’s different kinds of music in America, but background music is the heart and soul.” This is not only a nod to cottagecare sentimentality and Lopatin’s past, but feels very much like a statement on the current times—a call for hope for new futures.

The cleverly titled “The Wether Channel” is very funky, clearly drawing from new age-y background and ambient music. I love the use of fuzz and plucked instruments highlighted on this song as well as a beautiful section with a metallic rain sound. This track seems much more sustained than OPN’s previous work—maybe goes on a little too long—but it taps into a Sakamoto new age ambient vibe that, like his other work, is constantly building and dissolving in a liminal state of movement. 

The rapper NOLANBEROLLIN has a feature on this song and it works amazingly well; his mellow, grizzly voice, almost King Krule-esque, fits into the 80s vibe and of course Oneohtrix adds a distortion that makes the whole song seem like the bastard love child of a chill lounge and trap radio station.

Another track, “Tales of The Trash Stratum,” features chimes heard in previous songs, notably “Bow Ecco” as well as some nice bird noises, water drops, contemplative piano and staticky noise interjections. It’s a stark track that sometimes sounds as if a child is playing on a synth. 

The tones of the synth and the bursts of white noise remind me of a zen garden with a shishi-odoshi—one of those wooden water fountains. It’s a true gem of this album, absolutely beautiful and though it has an incredible range of sounds it seems to draw from, it is distinctly Oneohtrix Point Never. 

Songs like “Answering Machine” and “Shifting” are distinctly more manic and paranoiac. Though they still evoke the new age music of “Trash Stratum,” they’re spliced with more spoken phone conversations and in the case of “Shifting,” fellow experimental music icon Arca’s haunting whispering. 

The cinematic builds and vocal lines of “Shifting” cross the boundaries between human and theremin, and it feels like some sort of alien landscape. “Answering Machine” is more directly machinist, playing with Steve Reich-esque phone conversation loops and something that sounds like a ship’s morse code. 

The final track “Nothing’s Special” really rounds out the vibe of this album. Lyrics like “I’m not upset by the wind and the rain making their way to the shore,” with something that sounds almost like baby noises make this a sweet ending even as it is simultaneously haunting, melancholy, and lonely. It remains a sweet self-conscious wind down to the album that proves the depth of Oneohtrix Point Never’s sound here and throughout the album is immersive and incredible  

If you’re a fan of Daniel’s earlier albums, something more like Replica or Rifts, there’s certainly moments that could appeal to you. If you enjoyed Age Of, it verges on a must listen. This album is hyperpop, but make it nostalgic for ambient Steve Reich and new age country retreats instead of internet culture. 

Magic Oneohtrix Point Never has some low moments for sure, but it is self-referential, melancholy, noisey, and cottagecore. Escapist, yet looking forward to some kind of future in all the right measure for another album of the COVID-19 era lockdown.  

 Written By Xia Jimenez