Oxytocin

I’ve always been a big fan of bands where every member—including the drummer damn it (yes my frustration of playing drums and not being able to croon along has come out)—sings. Oxytocin performs progressive rock with a journey that spans and cross over plenty a genre. One could easily utter King Crimson alongside Oxytocin, which makes you wonder if their name is a misspelling of the famous redneck drug Oxycotin, well regardless they’re just as addicting though not to just the more sad fellows in society. Decidedly hip, this trio conjures jams that most bands are able to produce every once in a while, but these guys do it on damn near every track.

- J-Sin - Smother.net

Oxytocin is named after one of those "love hormones" in the brain that state-of-the art antidepressants will probably soon be able to inhibit re-uptake of. That's a perfect definition of this band, which rewards concentration and repeat listens. A power trio the likes of Husker Du or Cream if they were doing King Crimson covers in a grunge club for a crowd of Math Rock geeks, stoned proggers and headbanger intellectuals, all of them sing and play like the dickens. But the main duties for songwriting go to guitarist Eric Hirsch. A naturally gifted musician, Hirsch seems to be trying to stretch rock near to its breaking point with every song, offering challenges and rewards, attacks and seductions. Tunes drift into Sonic Youth style abstraction then flow into Steely Dan-esque clinical pop perfection, or power-punk without ruffling a feather.  Then they blast off  off again into a bewildering maze of progressive jamming with drummer Jeff Curtin leading the way through the dark with percussive sonar. Bassist Phil Weitzman provides guitar-like, thud-like picking, at times accessing a sort of primal Mike Watt funkiness.

It becomes difficult to pick any one song on their LOVE IT album as definitive, since their time signatures and styles change so rapidly. I would say for example that I love the end of "My I" and that Eric has a naturally sweet voice that sounds especially good with a little flanger under it. Songwriting-wise, Eric is genuinely gifted, and the sometimes difficult tempos and chords of the songs don't seem to be the result of any lack of ability to be pretty or catchy, as it might be with some of them other math geeks. Whenever they want, the band can launch into ECHOES-era Pink Floyd/Sea and Cake style beauty jams -- as in "Sorrow Day" which launches into hauntingly lovely harmonies around the four minute mark, and are easily equal to anything by those aforementioned bands.


In these days of 40 gig ipods it's a real pleasure to stumble across a something like Oxytocin, a group whose music isn't crafted to be instantly accessible and disposable. This is the sort of complex stuff that rewards deep headphone listening, melding the complexities of math and prog with the beauty of the best indie pop and the power of mid-80's punk (The Minutemen come to mind as well as Husker Du). Definitely worth the time, just make sure you do what's neccessary to prevent the re-uptake; you'll want this chemical in your head a good long while. - Acidemic journal - Erich Kuersten, 11-11-04

Dyslexics be warned. The band is Oxytocin NOT OxyContin. The New York City trio named itself after a love hormone, not a drug. Oxy dallies within the realm of alt-rock spiked with a decent case of the heebie-jeebies, but spindly and kinda haphazard. Think Dave Grohl sedated and wearing Mary Janes. - Fury (Village Voice, 3/30-4/5, 2005)

Jane’s Addiction meets early Police meets Yes and …some other…sort…of…rock band. My brain has not been functioning smoothly of late. Apologies. I can’t seem to draw on my VAST mental warehouse at this time. Anyhoo, this was some good, tight rock with about the perfect amount of abrasiveness to be edgy yet not annoying. They sound like fine students of pop, too. That, or they have one hell of a dumb luck streak—either way, they’ve got a good thing goin’ on. “Going Under” is a nifty tune combining a bit of ethereal popishness with some hard licks that turned into something I actually listened to again. The only press materials with the CD was a scrawled note, “Thanks for reviewing my shitty band.” Humility is a good thing. But y’all can give yourself some credit—you aint shitty, not by a long, long shot. (Mike Mitchelson) - www.demorama.com