Reviewed on Thursday August 27
Any band matched to a style as unwieldy and unconventional as that of The Drones is at once both an ill-fitting odd choice and the perfect choice of opener. From Kev Carmody to King Gizzard, The Drones have shone a light on many cult heroes and left-field artists when it comes to their ‘with special guests’. Tonight, the honour was bestowed upon Batpiss, an outfit that churns out scratchy, belligerent noise-rock with malice and intent. Each song takes meat-and-potatoes riffs and hurls them forcefully into a downward spiral of amp-splitting feedback and the authoritative bark of bands like Fu Manchu or High on Fire. To put it bluntly, Batpiss don’t belong anywhere – and it’s an arrangement that suits its three members just fine. There’s no gimmick, there’s no layers of comprehension, there’s nothing to ‘get’. It’s heads down, horns up, rinse and repeat. Welcome to the family, Batpiss.
There are hundreds of ways to enjoy live music, but one core element decides the ebb and flow of one’s reaction: seated or standing. Over the years, The Drones have proven themselves in both arenas. With that said, having now experienced what is essentially the same set in both the iconic Sydney Opera House and the ever-reliable Factory, one has to raise the hand of the latter in victory. No, The Drones aren’t a band you can dance to, mosh to… hell, you can barely even tap your feet. It is, however, music one feels – while the songs simply washed over those at the Opera House, those crowded toward the front of the stage here found ample opportunity to lose themselves in the moment of a screeching guitar break, a rare moment of clarity or one of the many “na na na”s the set had to offer.
It’s primarily driven by their sole constant, Gareth Liddiard, who still bends every last note from both his voice or his guitar until either breaks. Wry and scrawny, he presents as one of Australian music’s truest underdogs – which may well explain why so many stake a sincere emotional investment into his every musical venture. Even when the song is not his own – as with ‘River Of Tears’ (originally by the aforementioned Carmody) – he still opines over each word as if it were. Such is the magic of a performer like Liddiard, and such is the magic of a band like The Drones.
