The Drones hold an unparalled place on the contemporary Australian music landscape. Their dark, often confronting explorations into this country’s culture and history have positioned them, in the eyes of many, as perhaps our best and most important band. Yet, despite Gareth Liddiard’s desolate gaze on humanity, The Drones also carry a ferocious live reputation; something they sort to capture with the filming of a live DVD over a three-night stint at the East Brunswick Club.

Saturday night was, however, a disaster. A blown amp mid-way through their opening song and continual sound problems left the band seething at the gig’s conclusion. Returning the following evening wearing the same clothes and performing an almost identical set-list, they sought to restore some pride and produce a set (and DVD) worth watching.

Super Wild Horses provided an energetic, if not slightly repetitious start to the evening. Amy Franz and Hayley McKee may just be drums, garagey-guitar and shouted vocals but in fairness, what they do, they do quite well. A somewhat pointless mid-set switch between instruments proved that, while neither are particularly proficient on guitar, both are accomplished drummers with many of their minute-long songs driven by their frenetic drum work. It was a set that did them no harm, yet only once they finished did a somewhat reserved crowd move to the foot of stage.

As they did the previous night, The Drones opened with the powerful Jezebel; Liddiard intermittently coming up for air in his manically crooned chorus before plunging into spat-out verses over Dan Luscombe’s aggressive guitar. Nail It Down followed in a similar vein, with Mike Noga’s drumsticks bouncing out of his hands on several occasions during its distorted reworking. The stark tempo changes on The Minotaur showcased Liddiard at his most schizophrenic, while he howled, growled and generally shredded his vocal chords on Freedom of The Loot.

“Anyone come here last night?” queried Luscombe. “Going a lot better, isn’t it?”
“What happened?” demanded a punter.
“Someone died” he joked. “We died.”
“We don’t speak about it anymore” added Noga.

With all amps intact and only one request made of the sound crew, things were indeed going significantly better. Gone were the scowls of the previous evening and, with Liddiard clearly enjoying himself, the band set about a near-perfect rendition of Shark Fin Blues; undoubtedly one of this country’s greatest pieces of music. At the song’s rousing conclusion, it seemed the night could not get any better. As it turned out, it couldn’t.

To this point, Liddiard had indulged in several searching distortion solos that only narrowly remained within the framework of their encompassing songs. The latter half of the set, however, saw him embark on a series of unrelenting and at times, tiresome guitar lines that truly challenged his Sunday night audience. Sections of the dense, damp room grew somewhat uncomfortable as Liddiard writhed on the floor with his guitar during Six Ways To Sunday. Her back, as always, facing the crowd, Fiona Kitschin then led the band into The Miller’s Daughter but her thudding bass lines were quickly overrun by torrent of intense distorted noise. This continued even after the band had exited the stage with Liddiard’s unmanned guitar providing a further minute of jarring reverb.

It took some time for the EBC to work up enough enthusiasm to properly call the Drones out again for an encore, yet their return to the stage also marked a return to their early-set form. Sitting On The Edge Of The Bed Cryin’ was delivered far more faithfully by a sweat-drenched Liddiard. It led perfectly into I Don’t Ever Want To Change; the flurry of more precise guitar and drums putting energy back into the crowd. While there was still time for some swirling distorted guitar, it fitted far more meaningfully within the context of the song. After a final chance for the crowd to mug for the cameras, the night was over.

What had the potential to be a vintage night of Melbourne music at the East Brunswick Club ended up falling just slightly short of the mark. It will probably please Gareth Liddiard to known that he is still wholeheartedly unable to make neatly-packaged, easy to digest music. While they will never be to everyone’s taste, The Drones can be confident that their next, soon to be recorded album will be both highly anticipated and, more than likely, warmly received.

As for the DVD, well, it should still make for some pretty bloody good viewing.