Daniel Lopatin: Marty Supreme (Original Soundtrack)

"The music in Marty Supreme is a central character, one as freewheeling, in-your-face, and impossible to resist as Marty himself. Though the '80s and its attendant commercialism and sci-fi cheese have always been of particular fascination to Lopatin, his previous Froese-flavored scores only reflected the surface shades of his craft. Where his work as Oneohtrix Point Never has blurred boundaries, his scores have often leaned more toward pastiche."

"Lopatin delves into his longtime concerns over media and memory by constructing a lush, time-drunk soundscape that echoes the chintzy Fairlights, DX7s, and Synclaviers of the film's pop songs. The arpeggio is once again the grounding current, and he draws on everything he's learned to do with it since his days. New-agey R Plus Seven flutes chirp through the iridescent romance of "The Call" and "The Apple," before "Endo's Game" brings Marty's high plummeting down with the dark, throbbing bass of Garden of Delete."

""Holocaust Honey" reinterprets Constance Demby's " Novus Pt. 2: The Flying Bach" as a circus of spiralling organs, strings, and choirs, blowing up one the film's most dreamily haunting flashbacks to Koyaanisqatsi proportions. If Lopatin has increasingly pushed his solo music into a more over-the-top, dramatized mode over the years (with the refreshing exception of this year's mellow Tranquilizer), all that theatricality finally finds a good outlet here, lifting the material to grandiose and otherworldly places."

Lopatin's score for Marty Supreme functions as a central, character-like force that matches the film's larger-than-life tone. He transforms '80s commercial synth textures into a lush, time-drunk soundscape using Fairlights, DX7s, and Synclaviers. The arpeggio remains a grounding motif while flutes and arpeggiated romance evoke shimmering pop moments; darker tracks employ throbbing bass to deflate Marty's highs. "Holocaust Honey" reimagines Constance Demby's piece into spiralling organs, strings and choirs, amplifying a haunting flashback to epic proportions. Lopatin channels theatricality and past explorations of media and memory to lift the material into grandiose, otherworldly spaces.

Read at Pitchfork