24th May at Joan Sutherland Theatre, Sydney Opera House
“What does it take to be a fuckin’ idol?” drawls The Drones’ Gareth Liddiard to a packed Opera House. The question is delivered tongue-in-cheek, but the relevance is belying.
The Drones have been one of the most consistently critically acclaimed Australian bands since their early days as lighting Perth, yet still, mainstream appeal has eluded them. However, as they begin their hour-long submersion into their storied back catalogue, it becomes apparent that never having to bow to the pressures of the popular world is what has made for such a strong and bewildering act.
The occasion this particular show is to celebrate the 10th Anniversary of The Drones’ AMP-winning record, Wait Long By the River and the Bodies of Your Enemies Will Float By. A magnificent record, indebted to (but not confined by) the squalling noise and anti-glamorous poetry of The Birthday Party, The Dirty Three and Lubricated Goat.
Since the release of Wait Long By The River…, The Drones have released four more studio albums, and received bonafide (and warranted) cult status. But whenever people talk about The Drones, the love always comes back to this seminal record, and The Joan Sutherland Theatre is teeming with anticipation.
The lights dull, and five shadowy figures materialize, greeted by wild applause and ocker shouting. You can take the rock crowd out of the pub, but you can’t take the pub out of the rock crowd. ‘Shark Fin Blues’ – a song that The Age reported as being the best Australian song of all time in 2009 – opens, and the resulting cacophony sets the standard for the rest of the evening.
A celebration of Wait Long By The River… the performance certainly is, as The Drones blast their way through the album like Mad Max would barrel through enemy lines in a tanker. Seven tracks from the album’s total nine are played, with ‘Baby Squared’ and ‘Sitting On The Edge Of The Bed Cryin” getting particularly lapped up by the enthusiastic crowd. As the familiarly chaotic riffs peel the paint of the Opera House, heads nod in concentrated unison all around the Theatre. Each bass drum kick is a wound to the infrastructure, and the overabundant squeals that emit from The Drones’ amps are enough to buckle the sails that stand guard over Sydney’s precious harbour.
Although the members that compromise The Drones are all capable players, every eye is locked onto Gareth Liddiard. The formidable frontman is terrifying, launching into each riff with brutal commitment.
[include_post id=”447985″]Veins stick out from his neck like branches welted to an oak tree, and when he breathlessly bellows along to ‘The Minotaur’, the audience shrivels in giddy exhilaration. Every ghost and ghoul of rock n roll past is there, being loosed from Liddiard’s throat in a musical exorcism curated by one of the best Australian rock bands of all time. The Drones tonight draw a suitable parallel to Royal Headache’s performance 24 hours before: Australian rock icons, old and new, perishing and giving their all to a crowd of all ages that will have the show seared in their memory.
There’s a reason why The Drones have countless live albums and bootlegs dedicated to their shows – simply put, they’re that good. It didn’t matter who you were – in that theatre, with chaos bounding off every wall with deranged merriment, The Drones touched and reminded everyone exactly how fantastic they are; what the audience lost in years off their hearing, they gained in a enduring memory. What does it take to be an idol, Liddiard? You just answered your own question.
