Concrete Playground

I remember seeing the Drones at the Hoey (R.I.P.), years back. I didn't know who the hell they were and a friend of mine took me along. I was floored. They were so loud and brutal, but they still had hooks and melodies in their songs that beautifully intertwined with the gnarled and twisted guitars. They seemed to exist on their own, exuding a sound and ideal that was very dark and un-Australian (like other expats the Birthday Party), while somehow remaining affable and sharply humorous, very Australian.

Gareth Liddiard has been at the helm of the band all along, and it feels like their music is an extension of his person: at once brooding and moody, but also wryly charismatic and funny. These traits become clearer when you see his solo sets, and he's sneaking a few in while the Drones take time off. He strips back the walls of distortion and heavy rhythm section, so you can hear the intricate melodies and succinct, poignant lyrics that often reveal this dark sense of humour. His previous solo outings have allowed him to delve into the back catalogue of the band's work, pulling out some of the quieter tunes that they don't often play live. Also, to add enticement, Jed Kurzel from the Mess Hall will be whipping out his acoustic for some quieter ditties.