Seattle's Lights opened the show with a cover of Black Flag's "Nervous Breakdown." Their brand of rootsy punk was followed by the similarly compelling electronic krautrock of Jonas Reinhardt, featuring guitarist Phil Manley, who I've now seen perform with four different bands.
I got worried when I saw Oneida setting up, as they had augmented their usual three-piece configuration with an additional guitar player and keyboardist. Once they began playing, however, the difference to their signature psych-rock sound was negligible.
Oneida opened, as they usually do, with "Each One Teach One" off their 2000 record of the same name, followed by "Up with People," their take on house music. The band hasn't lost any of its trademark energy, with vocalist/keyboard player Bobby Matador jerking about wildly and drummer Kid Millions manically banging out fills. They followed with some new material that lacked the immediacy of the older songs, and one could feel the audience losing interest as the band locked into uninspired, repetitive riffs. Oneida was able to salvage the set, however, by reaching back into the vault for classic cocaine anthem "Snow Machine."
Seattle's Lights opened the show with a cover of Black Flag's "Nervous Breakdown." Their brand of rootsy punk was followed by the similarly compelling electronic krautrock of Jonas Reinhardt, featuring guitarist Phil Manley, who I've now seen perform with four different bands.
I got worried when I saw Oneida setting up, as they had augmented their usual three-piece configuration with an additional guitar player and keyboardist. Once they began playing, however, the difference to their signature psych-rock sound was negligible.
Oneida opened, as they usually do, with "Each One Teach One" off their 2000 record of the same name, followed by "Up with People," their take on house music. The band hasn't lost any of its trademark energy, with vocalist/keyboard player Bobby Matador jerking about wildly and drummer Kid Millions manically banging out fills. They followed with some new material that lacked the immediacy of the older songs, and one could feel the audience losing interest as the band locked into uninspired, repetitive riffs. Oneida was able to salvage the set, however, by reaching back into the vault for classic cocaine anthem "Snow Machine."