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Long before you could get a decent cup of coffee or a cab on Bedford Avenue, Oneida were peeling the paint off the walls of makeshift venues and playing their mutant-rock in parking lots. Fifteen years and numerous albums of shape-shifting psychedelia on from their inception, the Brooklyn band—Kid Millions, Hanoi Jane, Shahin Motia, Bobby Matador and Barry London—couldn’t make an accessible record if they wanted to. And thank (insert spiritual deity here) for that. There are plenty of bands out there playing it safe, existing to make you (and themselves) feel warm and cuddly inside. That’s not to say the music Oneida plays is negative or without emotional heft. It’s just that they don’t make the payoff easy to find. The view from the top of a hill sure is pretty, but Oneida know it’s the climb to get there—as fraught with peril and missteps as it is—that makes you feel the most alive.
After last year’s Absolute II and the two sidelong behemoths that compose their latest LP for Jagjaguwar, A List of the Burning Mountains, you can’t even call Oneida a rock band anymore. A decade-and-a-half of smashing and chipping psychedelic rock to bits, Oneida are left with only dust to sculpt. They’ve developed a sort of synaesthesia and have become incapable of coloring within in the lines. On A List of the Burning Mountains, they create psychedelic gas, the effects of which are not immediately apparent. You have to breathe it in for a while and only then will shapes and visions appear. They didn’t put them there, you made them yourself, Oneida are but guides.
Have an exclusive listen to A List of the Burning Mountains below ahead of its November 13th release by clicking here (our pop-up album player will launch) or on our free mobile app. Afterwards, when reality drifts back in, pre-order the album from iTunes or snatch the LP.