I already said this somewhere else, but having spent a whole morning raking my cowering brain to find new words to express these extreme feelings, I am afraid I shall have to repeat myself, because you wouldn’t want me to collapse, body awaiting wretched for my beloved flatmates to find lying in a puddle of crimson and pink like the final confrontations at Scanners. would you? You so would, you bastards. Alas, I won’t give you the pleasure, not yet, and here we go again:

When I am old I shall look back to the day when I saw Oneida at Primavera Sound 09 from the first row, blasted, I shall sit my mutant offspring in my knees and ask them to lick the acid tears running down my emaciated cheeks, so they can trip on mighty visions of progressive zealots taking Barcelona’s heavens by storm. They are releasing a new album, ‘Rated O’, comprised of three parts the second of which this begins, and how, by conjuring images of electric maelstroms and pillars of power collapsing upon each other, picture Turner’s rabidest seas and picture mighty Thor’s little helpers hovering over nature as it does its thing, brandishing the tools of the trade of those who demolish planets in search of psychedelic gold. They strike a rich vein, and our faces are illuminated by the light to become devilish kabuki masks that flash grotesque grimaces of utter joy. The legend continues, step into the path.

Oneida- The River

But there’s always calm after the storm, Ganglians sprawl on the lotus position over wet sands of a beach destination of the pilgrimage of debris, bundles of letters in faded ink washing this shore like a flock of paper pigeons, and so they play their sad and beautiful country music while the sun punches holes in a tattered wall of purple clouds. We told you about them a while ago, now they have a very nice 12 and Monster Head Room, the album whence this comes out on Woodsist, lovely west coast laid back melancholy strutting which is bound to take over the world like only pretty music can.

Ganglians- Cryin’ Smoke