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The Gershwin Room is a perfect venue for The Drones, with the same intimacy as the East Brunswick club, where they nervously experimented with their new songs earlier this year. They launched Havilah at The Forum, and as marvellous as that iconic venue is, when there’s a massive barrier between you and the stage, it seems as though you’re missing out on part of the show. So with the Drones back to play in the more intimate confines of the Gershwin you could feel the anticipation in the air.

Lady Strangelove were the first on stage. I was assured by a friend that they are very good, but I was dubious because they looked like a bunch of guys who wanted to be Led Zeppelin. And in truth, they were, but they did it well. Brenny, their singer, rollicked around, Josh played guitar and flicked his long hair back and forwards and they all made it look like all they wanted to do was be on stage, playing this show. They made you – œfeel the love.’

This was in contrast with the second act. Sand Pebbles are a band that sounds good in their recordings, but just looked bored live. The lead guitarist switch singing duties with the percussion player annoyed me because neither of them seemed to be able to get in the swing of playing a show. I did note that their tambourine was broken into pieces by the end of the set, maybe something that belies their apparent boredom.

Rocket Science tore onto the stage and brought everyone to attention. They certainly had their die-hard fans, in any case, the audience loved them and I thought they were really good. Rowan Tucker moved like he had electricity coming off his keyboard and Mickey Heartbreak glared at you in a way that doesn’t let you doubt his surname. The songs flowed energetically to make their set really tight and enjoyable.

Finally Gareth Liddiard and co swagger onto the stage, knowing that they’re about to have a good time. Drunken louts talk at Gareth while he’s tuning, and I don’t think he’s really listening, but they’re easily humoured with a smile. They open with the first two tracks of their new album – Nail It Down and The Minotaur, which are new crowd pleasers. Someone makes a mistake along the line, but it’s small and Dan Luscombe and Mike Noga share a smile. When a band that’s as tight as The Drones makes a mistake, I can’t help but love how real they are and enjoy how they handle it with grace. Oh My is next and I don’t know what a wookie is, but I definitely don’t want to be one, considering the way Gareth spits out the lyrics with venom and opens his eyes wide.

I Am The Supercargo starts slow before building up to its dramatic climax. Fiona Kitschin keeps her back to the audience, locked on the drums, which Noga obligingly licks his instruments into shape. Gareth sings the key lines of that song with so much desperation that it hurts. River Of Tears, from the Kev Carmody tribute album You Cannot Buy My Soul , flows well after that. Now they’re back into the old songs. If the audience aren’t happy yet, they are when Shark Fin Blues starts. Hilariously, someone screws up again and Luscombe and Noga insist that it was the other. Gareth chuckles and admits that they should know that song well enough by now. They start again to extra cheers.

Once that’s over, Kitschin suddenly starts the infamous bass line to Six Ways To Sunday from their first album, Here Come The Lies, and the guitars explode into noise and notes. I swear Liddiard’s eyes open wider to echo the screaming of his vocals. The night ends with I Don’t Ever Want To Change and everyone screaming out the chorus with Liddiard – it never fails to get the crowd going wild and it finishes the show on a high. There’s no encore – it’s late – though most people were probably too drunk to understand the set had ended, as they staggered out of the Gershwin Room.