Oneohtrix Point Never’s Tranquilizer isn’t about sedation but return - a record that explores what happens after the drift into unreality. Rather than condemning escapism, Daniel Lopatin maps the movement from airy calm to grounded sensation, a necessary cycle of withdrawal and renewal in a world that’s both numbing and relentless. Across its shifting terrain - from the liquid serenity of Lifeworld to the haunted melancholy of Cherry Blue and the distorted pulse of Rodl Glide - the album blurs the boundary between the tangible and the imagined. Physical textures lurk within its digital spaces: the scrape of fingers on strings, the shuffle of stone, a door’s faint squeak. If R Plus Seven shimmered with crystalline arpeggios and Garden of Delete spiralled in fevered distortion, Tranquilizer feels like waking from a dream that still clings to you - vivid, uncertain, and strangely real.