Since 2007, Daniel Lopatin has been recording and performing some of the most adventurous electronic music out there — which also happens to be some of the most listenable experimental music out there — under the name Oneohtrix Point Never. Sounded out, this moniker conjures up some sort of corrupt version of a radio call number; appropriately enough, Lopatin’s music can sound like the bounced-back transmissions of pop culture’s recent past, distorted and worn down over light years of travel. Disconnected rhythms file past chopped-up sound samples snatched from old Folger’s commercials or withering VHS tapes: Lopatin’s music toes the line between the mundane and the sublime.
Over the course of five albums, and through the launch of his own boutique label, Software, Lopatin’s aesthetic has refined itself into something of a signature — which is his cue to take things in a different direction. On Friday night at the ICA, Lopatin joins with visual artist Nate Boyce for a multimedia performance of “Reliquary House,” a joint work they first performed last year at the Museum of Modern Art, as well as some other excursions into his catalog, both old and new. A Sudbury native, Lopatin now operates out of Brooklyn, N.Y., but he still holds fondly onto his 508 phone number from his days in Massachusetts. This kind of emotional connection to raw data is at the heart of Lopatin’s practice, and if the theory behind it sounds heavy, his music — effervescent, unpredictable, and suffused with an eerie commercial resonance — spares you the burden of having to think too much while enjoying it.