In the far off future, an intelligent entity attempts to reconstruct and make sense of humanity’s existence through the detritus that remains - digital ephemera, music and film. Its distillation of these inputs creates something alien, yet recognisable; ugly, yet beautiful. Such is the concept behind Oneohtrix Point Never’s MYRIAD live show, a performance that blends installation art and music to re-contextualise the recently released record, Age Of.

Entering the main hall at the Barbican, attendees are greeted by a fairly orderly stage set up with Daniel Lopatin and his band arranged in a line across the stage. More notable, however, are the polygonal screens behind the group and the two grotesque sculptures that hang at the far sides of the stage, slowly rotating throughout the evening’s performance. The sculptures and the video footage that plays on the screens are the work of Nate Boyce, who blends 3D visualisations, photography and footage of nature to create some truly unsettling visuals. Skeletal forms are seen dominating cityscapes, a VHS tape is held in the mouth of a skull as though it’s a gag, and - at one point - what appears to be an animal skull with a trail of tendrils from the back of its head is shown jerking violently.

All of this accompanies what is a truly astonishing performance. The band run through the entirety of the Age Of, re-ordering the tracks to become a performance of four movements, each representing a phase in humanity’s development. As such, the concert takes this slow build from the relative serenity of tracks like ‘Age Of’ and ‘RayCats’, culminating in the violent, panic-inducing tones of ‘Warning’ and ‘Same’. Even ‘Black Snow’ is rendered more horrific than previously imagined as 5 dancers, dressed in red cowgirl outfits and face masks with bloody smiles painted on, line dance in front of the band. It’s a dark, dystopian vision, like we’ve been invited into an apocalyptic rodeo.

For MYRIAD Lopatin has assembled a talented group of musicians to accompany him. It’s an interesting choice for an artist that has often been pushing at the edges of what electronic music can achieve through sampling and sound manipulation, but here it brings a new energy to the material, with manipulation happening live as harpsichord melodies begin to glitch and percussion becomes twisted. Kelly Moran’s keyboard playing really shines during the early parts of the evening, whilst Eli Keszler’s percussion is mesmerising throughout, building from intricate echoing patterns to huge, cataclysmic crashes in the show’s later moments.

The sum of all this is a show that astounds in its artistic ambitions. The songs from Age Of, particularly those in the latter half of the set feel denser, more physical, and - in conjunction with the lights and video work - it’s hard not to feel like you’re being subjected to a sensory overload. It’s as though you just spent the last hour and a half plugged into a machine that transmitted the entirety of human existence into your brain, with all its hopes and anxieties amplified.