If water made the sound of the human voice stretching across the floor, if it could mimic the ecstasy of presence while it babbled in its wooded brook, perhaps then water would be the only necessary word to describe Oils. In all other senses the band embodies the bodiless and exhibits the flowing quality that weaves its way through the world. From a distance they are a clear and precise image sculpted from glossy stone. But when examined by closer eyes the definitions blur, and the boundaries between characteristics drift free. Their enigmatic style--free form pop carried by what one would call “the liberating beat”--keeps their minimalist tendencies fresh. They are varied in their ways; reincarnated in various forms, be it their basic and elemental two-piece breed or their large ensembles that become flexing muscle beneath the flesh. Ebbing and flowing onward and entirely free from the chains of the ordinary, Oils is water.
“The two-piece [...] picks and nibbles at impressionistic, nuts-and-bolts rock numbers. During their set, they threaded stiff jabs around revved-up, born-to-run riffs and Osman's swaggering wash-and-jangle rhythm routine, stopping songs whenever the hell Frederick felt like it.” The Pitch on Oils