LIVE REVIEW: THE DRONES With Special Guest The Mess Hall

A false start and persistent equipment malfunctions threatened to plague cult Australian rock band The Drones’ first Perth show in over a decade on Saturday night at The Rechabite. Frontman and guitarist Gareth Liddiard dealt with technical issues with his guitar and effects pedals for nearly the band’s entire 80-minute set, even cutting a finger on his strumming hand during the back end of the band’s main set.

It probably was not the ideal homecoming for the revered songwriter, but not many of the band’s loyal followers out west were complaining by the end of the night — the first of two shows the group will play in Perth during their “one-off” reunion tour around Australia.

A sand groper by birth, Liddiard has been a Victorian for nearly thirty years now, having moved to Melbourne around the dawn of the new millennium.

“If this was Perth in 1999 and there were only five of you people here, I could just walk off in a drunken huff,” he told the sold-out crowd as he attempted to soldier on through the plaguing issues.

When he further discussed his “hometown” return with the audience, Liddiard received some sardonic “ooh la la la”s for mentioning that he used to live in the now-affluent suburbs of Hillarys and Kallaroo. But he strongly countered the claims of poshdom, asserting that when he lived there, it was a place where prison guards and bricklayers lived, not doctors and lawyers. “I lived there before the McMansions and the marina, when it was just beach shacks made of asbestos,” he said.

Despite the stage banter’s light-hearted nature, an undeniable sincerity and rawness exist in Liddiard’s song writing that wouldn’t be there if a silver spoon had been placed in his mouth at birth. His work is distorted and jagged, a bit rough around the edges, probably a bit like the beach shacks he lived in growing up with his mother. This working-class nature has followed him into his career. As someone who has been largely on the road for over 25 years, Liddiard has told the media that if he doesn’t tour, he doesn’t eat. It is a brutal reality for one of the most celebrated rock musicians this country has produced this century.

A “one-off” reunion tour for the cult Australian rock band he formed in 1997 is therefore far less surprising given this context. If you know you can sell out shows under The Drones name, why wouldn’t you? Still, a gig under the band name that originally gave him clout in the game of rock ’n’ roll is certainly still a rarity for the iconoclastic frontman and his other four band members.

The thing is, the band never really officially broke up; it has just been on hold for the past ten years. Life commitments from other members led Liddiard and his partner, Fiona Kitschin, to keep the ball rolling with their project Tropical Fuck Storm, leaving The Drones on the back burner. TFS, and Liddiard by extension, are regular visitors to Western Australia, not by choice, but by necessity. But the revellers who sold this show out on a rainy Saturday night in Northbridge were certainly glad to see them back under their original moniker.

In the spirit of reunions, two-piece Sydney rock band The Mess Hall opened the night. A band of a similar era to The Drones, the duo warmed the crowd up with an intense set of back-to-back, thumping garage rock tunes. But things ran a little less smoothly for the night’s main act.

The Drones’ opening track, Private Execution, was restarted five minutes after they triumphantly arrived onstage to rapturous cheers. They left minutes later with their tails between their legs as Liddiard failed to rectify his pedalboard issues speedily. When they finally arrived back onstage, the effortlessly cool Kitschin held things down right from the opener. The bassist spent most of the set with her back to the audience, hair blowing in the wind of a fan at her feet as she laid down repetitive grooves.

A frantic sense of urgency clings to The Drones’ sound, especially in Liddiard’s delivery. The way he strains to reach the microphone to belt out his sometimes agonising lyrics, and the way his guitar wiggles as he vocalises, is like watching a man wrestle with his emotions in real time. It is almost like an inner monologue during a crisis; the sheer noise and energy are palpable and resoundingly emotive when the band performs, particularly in the mangy riffage of tracks like Sitting on the Edge of the Bed Cryin’.

While solid and clearly a great team man, guitarist Dan Luscombe tends to take a back seat to Liddiard’s characteristic zany guitar sound. Additional phasers, fuzzes and other wacky forms of distortion have given the frontman a signature sound over the years, and even with technical issues, it dominated the mix. A third of the set came from the band’s 2005 record Wait Long by the River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By, including the second track, Baby, its bluesy rhythm getting the crowd moving.

Signature track Shark Fin Blues was the penultimate track of the main set, a surprising choice given that a track of its popularity would usually get encore treatment. Regardless of its placing in the set, this is a special song. It has been named as one of the greatest Australian songs ever written, and Liddiard is said to have written it in honour of his mother after her passing. It is poignant and magnetic, and its rampant energy and brutal lyrics highlight what makes the band special. This rendition was just as spectacular and vulnerable, a whirling symphony of guitar music.

The main set closed out with the energetic I Don’t Ever Want to Change, before a two-song encore which saw The Drones perform the yearning Jezebel and a cover of the Kev Carmody song River of Tears to round out the performance.

There is nothing fake about The Drones; the mistakes and the belligerent swearing make the band what they are: blunt and very human, with a sense of relatability that audiences have resonated with for decades. And this was on show in Perth.

Setlist: Private Execution, Taman Shud, The Minotaur, Luck in Odd Numbers, Sitting on the Edge of the Bed Cryin’, Baby, I See Seaweed, Locust, Shark Fin Blues, I Don’t Ever Want to Change