You'd be forgiven for turning your back on Brooklynites Oneida following the conclusion to their Thank Your Parents triptych of records, 2011's challenging Absolute II. Ditching the experimental rock grooves of the previous two albums Preteen Weaponry and the brilliant double album Rated O, the band went for a minimalist approach that mixed Suicide and Philip Glass and replaced guitar noise and drums with primitive organ drones. Eleven albums in, it seemed like Oneida didn't really care what critics, fans or detractors thought of their latest offering - take it or leave it, but this what we do now. We've earned it, so deal with it.

To be fair, Absolute II wouldn't be the ideal place to start if you're an Oneida virgin. I'd point you in the direction of Secret Wars or Rated O, but you really should begin at Each One Teach One, probably one of the most important experimental rock records of the past 20 years, and a truly stunning album. Once you've listened to that, the music on the band's new album A List of the Burning Mountains should make perfect sense. The journey from groove-obsessed psych/Kraut outfit to free-form adventurers has been one that's developed over those eleven albums and leaves 'Fat' Bobby Matador, Hanoi Jane and Kid Millions (plus Barry London and Shahin Motia) in a position where they're loving what they do but most importantly refusing to rest on their laurels or pander to anyone's wishes, and still making brilliant music.

A List of the Burning Mountains is two tracks and 40 minutes long; the tracks have the same name and an equal running time of 20 minutes and they're built round the incredible drumming talent of Kid Millions. Once focusing on primal power (witness the hypnotic 'Sheets of Easter' on Each One Teach One for an example of his superhuman stick skills) he's on more instinctive and - whisper it - jazzier form here, either taking the lead and letting Fat Bobby and Hanoi Jane follow him, or brilliantly reacting to the noise that his bandmates are creating.

Perhaps the best thing about Oneida, and this album in particular, is that they are still finding new sounds to investigate; on track one the music veers between light moments that wouldn't be out of place on an ambient record, and dark, intense drones that would be the envy of many a band on the Southern Lord roster. That middle section of track one is one of the high points on the first section of music: initially, bright synths drop away to make room for heavy percussion and dense swathes of feedback and a hint of a riff underneath the noise, but then when Kid takes a backseat things start to edge towards the light – albeit briefly – with high synth tones and the feedback higher up the register before the drums come back in and guide Oneida back to the noise - Kid's rolling drums from the middle to the end of track one are a complete delight, and that continues into the content of track two. Here, we find Oneida on quieter form, with organ stabs gently punctuating the spotlighted percussion, ambient swirls rising up before climaxing in a glorious cacophony of noise. Just two tracks, but that's more than enough when there's so much quality in what Oneida has given us.

The key to understanding the band is to recognise there's always a struggle between freedom and form in their music: is it structure placed over the ever-changing and free, or is the natural slowly escaping from a prison of form? And that's the tension that makes A List of the Burning Mountains another high point in Oneida's 15 year career.