'Here Come The Lies' spooky006

Out now in Australia on Spooky Records / MGM

Out now in The Benelux (The Netherlands / Belgium) on Undertow Recordings / Bertus

Reviews

3PBS FM - Feature Album of the Week.

3RRR FM - Album of the week.

Beat Magazine - Album of the Week.

I-94 Bar - Sydney, Australia

Finding out that this album by the Drones is on the same label that puts out Spencer's records meant that they automatically start with a few points on the board and they continued to rack up the points as the album worked through its 70-plus minutes of covers and originals (in roughly equal proportions).

However, let me give you a few words of warning first. Before you sit down to listen to this, you definitely have to be in the right mood, although I'm not exactly sure what that mood is. Perhaps just having arrived home direct from a distressing road rage incident would be helpful, because no way is this an hour of easy listening country favourites. Oh no. Opening up with "The Cockeyed Lowlife Of The Highlands", it's clear right from the start that this isn't the country music of embroidered cowboy shirts, big belt buckles and boot scootin'. This is music that lashes into you like a bad hangover on the worst morning of your life.

And it's unrelenting. These 12 tracks go for just over 72 minutes; that's six minutes each on average, except that half of them clock in at five minutes or less, which means that the other half therefore go for seven minutes or more. Don't be fooled either into thinking that the fast songs are all over quickly or that it's the slow songs that last the longest. When the Drones get a good grip on something (and I mean fingers wrapped firmly around the throat) they're not in any hurry to let go, no matter how fast they're going.

Comparisons with Nick Cave spring readily to mind (they do for the Cramps' "New Kind Of Kick" what he did for Leonard Cohen's "Avalanche") though the New Christs' "Bed Of Nails" might also be a valid reference point for some of the originals, like the anguished personal testimonies of "I'd Been Told" and "I Walked Across The Dam". At the same time the Drones aren't averse to the occasional serving of screaming feedback and white noise that harks back to Sonic Youth and through them to the Velvet Underground, raw and abrasive like the sound of someone having salt rubbed into an open wound.

Reputedly recorded virtually totally live in the studio, this is not so much an album as a snapshot. If they recorded these songs next week, next month or next year the whole thing would come out different each time; different, but doubtless just as challenging.

The Barman

Incendiary Magazine - The Netherlands

Australia's The Drones are a band that manages to marry the unholy twang of Robert Johnson blues pumped through an old vox amp, and sang with a mouth full of whiskey. It's similar to what The White Stripes aim for without the all American publicity machine and its gimmicks. In fact it feels like the real deal.

“A stranger laying on a bar room floor/drank so much he couldn't drink no more” sings Gareth Liddiard over a driving beat on ‘The Downbound Train’ as if he is drunk whilst singing it. Even on a slow number like ‘The Scrap Iron Sky’, the Drones build up to an almost jamming-style, full rock climax that is so intense, you can hear the spit hitting the mic.

On top of all this, unlike other "noise" bands, the Drones can play. Their rhythm section is always tight and even when a bombastic solo erupts, they manage to keep it together so well, it is as if they are wrapping the beats up in those air tight plastic bags advertised on Tel-Sel. An excellent album by an excellent band, Here Come the Lies is everything that blues-rock should be, but isn't. Perhaps we should be asking ourselves why?

Jonathan Dekel

Bertus - The Netherlands

Raw. Hypnotizing. Filthy. Crazy. Dirty. Yes, Australia's most twisted and notorious band The Drones know how to do IT. The foursome drown their Punk in Noise and Blues and add a kick to go. Like a spitting David Yow (Jesus Lizard) fronting a Jon Spencer Blues Explosion stuck on a rollercoaster, everything is played to pieces here. Those who think The White Stripes are rather soft, have found the soundtrack to their beloved Voodoo-ritual. Lovely, thrashing madness til you drop!

 

Sorted Magazine -  Dublin, Ireland

There's nothing quite like a nice weird record. It's good for the mind, even better for the skin and it kills all known germs fast. The Drones are plenty weird. Dizzyingly bizarre music is married to oddly warbled vocals in the strangest union since Dennis Rodman wedded himself all those years ago. Actually I'm not sure that ever happened, but it doesn't really matter. You get the idea. I can imagine gleefully listening to this album the next time I go grave-robbing. It would also make a perfect accompaniment for one of those epic battles Batman and the Joker have in those abandoned carnivals. I'm pretty sure it sounds great live, especially if the band play while riding rocking horses dressed in sailor suits. The only place this album sounds bad is in the comfort of your own home. There's just something wrong with listening to music this wild and unkempt while sitting in a faded floral armchair. Try playing Twister while dressed as a bear and hanging from the ceiling by your feet. Then you might just get it. Em, could someone cut me down please?

Dominic Body

8 Weekly – The Netherlands

Eerder dit jaar speelden The Drones een aantal shows in Nederland. Vooral in Groningen was de bijna legendarische live-reputatie de band vooruitgesneld. Net als het album trouwens. Het album dat al een tijdje op mijn CD-stapel ligt, enkel en alleen omdat ik niet zo goed weet wat ik ervan moet denken. Is deze muziek nou zo briljant en ongeëvenaard intens in zijn ruigheid? Of is dit gewoon een grote bak herrie?

Nou, ruig is Here Come the Lies van deze band uit Australië zonder meer. De wat minder goede opnamekwaliteit van het album doet het geheel zelfs nog rauwer voorkomen dan in de eerste instantie bedoeld is met de instrumentatie. The Drones maken keiharde, zwetende, dampende bluesrock met in de hoofdrol de zompige riffs afkomstig uit de gitaren van Rui Pereira en Gareth Liddiard en de complete waanzin in de vocalen.

De meeste nummers duren tegen de zeven minuten of meer en beuken, en beuken en beuken tot je er bijna dood bij neervalt. Misschien is meer dan zeventig minuten wel een beetje teveel van het goede voor de gewone luisteraar. Natuurlijk zullen doorgewinterde fans van dit genre heavy garage bluesrock na deze enorme aanslag op de oren nog niet genoeg hebben. The Drones klinken dan ook zeker wel als een enorme live-sensatie.

Het is een dooddoener, maar The Drones maken muziek waar je echt, maar dan ook echt van moet houden. Wie net het nieuwe album van Live heeft gekocht en verder niet echt van gitaarmuziek houdt, kan Here Come the Lies het beste links laten liggen. Voor wie wel houdt van een uitdaging is dit album wel een aanrader. Ik geef toe, niet alles aan deze bak herrie weet mij te boeien, maar hier en daar begint de adrenaline toch wel te stromen. Met name bij het horen van Dekalb Blues (nummer twee van de plaat), want wat is dat een briljante compositie.

Mark

The Bureau De Change - London

John Brainlove: This is decent, messy, strung out guitar music - a little bit Birthday Party, kind of echo-ridden and all over the place, trashy... it's atmospheric and dark and distorted halloween rock. Halloween the christian festival, not the film, and definitely not the band Helloween, because that would be terrible. The Drones are much better than all the rubbish indy rockers out there, but not quite as good as things like the Hunches and The 80's Matchbox. Promising.
Brian Hiroshima: I have no opinion. Well, I do, it's just the same thing I think about a lot of things. If I'd heard it two years ago I would have thought it was okay maybe, but there are too many bands doing the same sort of thing... I haven't really got much to say about it to be honest.

Rockezine – The Netherlands

Welcome to Here Come The Lies from The Drones. In order to exceed the sound pollution of Melbourne’s – the hometown of the band - big city noise, The Drones overdrive their amps to a ridiculous level, strum their strings the hard way and beat the drums in a way unheard-of. This is blues from the gutter. Big city blues, although some call it noise. Sure, there’s enough overdriven chords on this album to please any noise fan. But there’s more. The sound is swaying between a chorus of dissonance and numerous tactical silences, only to emphasize the music even more. You can’t have noise if you don’t have silence (makes sense doesn’t it?). Also, the band writes lyrics that fully correspond to the music, making the package truly a whole. Just listen to “ Downbound Train”.

Now and again the band kinda reminds me of The Immortal Lee County Killers, using their filthy blues to scare the purists away. Helping the band doing this is the anti-production-a-go-go; thank you for the squeals and the ‘good’ feedback. ‘Cause The Drones are not The White Stripes. Simply put, that’s why The White Stripes sell over a million albums and The Drones won’t.

Rock and blues, that’s what The Drones are all about. Doing it the hard way, the best way they can. Unfortunately Here Come The Lies is a bit too long to keep your attention for the full ride. About 20 minutes too long. This is mainly due to the jam-like structure the band uses for songwriting. Don’t expect any verse – verse – chorus stuff. Nope there’s a start for each song and the rest kinda feels like an adventure. But a nice adventure it is.

(Marc)

Rock Sound – London

Aussie rock ‘n’ roll playing white trash blues with Sonic Youth-isms, with some added rockabilly twinge, a little Hank Williams III and Rev Horton Heat and you’ve got a nice alternative to the latest garage rock-frenzied shite currently doing the rounds. Vocalist / guitarist Gareth Liddiard has a spiky drawl that not only does justice to The Drones’ own songs, but also Leadbelly’s ‘DeKalb Blues’, The Cramps’ ‘New Kind of Kick’ and Chuck Berry’s ‘Downbound Train’. All hail the new swing kings of great improve blues rock!

Lewis Fraser

Kindamusik – The Netherlands

Het is teveel. In principe ben ik gek op het soort muziek dat The Drones spelen. Verwrongen blues, die je hoofd eerst langzaam vult met hallucinogene moerasdampen en het dan laat ontploffen via wel gemikte noise-erupties. Alleen op Here Come The Lies staat er teveel van. Het is een twaalfgangenmenu van vol exquise gerechten dat je desondanks tegen heug en meug op eet omdat je na gang 3 eigenlijk vol zit. En dan heb je dus nog bijna een uur te gaan.

Dus verlies ik ergens halverwege ‘Downbound Train’ mijn concentratie en verwordt Here Come The Lies tot achtergrondruis. Totdat ‘The Scrap Iron Sky’ begint en ik ineens weer bij de les ben. Want wat een intens en mooi nummer is dat. Zelden zoveel verwrongen schoonheid gehoord. Dat geldt trouwens ook voor ‘Dekalb Blues’. En ‘The Island’.

Als The Drones nou op hun volgende plaat nou wat meer afwisseling in de structuur en lengte van hun songs aanbrengen, dan komt alles goed. Dan wordt dat “de plaat van het jaar” en is Here Come The Lies het veelbelovende, maar nog onder jeugdige overmoed lijdende debuut. We wachten vol spanning af.

Martijn ter Haar

Oor – The Netherlands

Toen de Australische Drones in 2001 werden losgelaten in het clubcircuit in en rond Melbourne bleek een sensatie geboren. De meest gerenommeerde muzikanten sloegen stijl achterover van deze superieure rock & roll band en vroegen ze als voorprogramma voor hun eigen shows. Het album Here Come The Lies maakte alle beloftes waar en werd de hemel ingeprezen. En ja hoor: één binnengehengeld exemplaar van deze plaat bleek genoeg om half Groningen op stelten te zetten. Nou zijn The Drones dan ook te midden van de nieuwe, al of niet gehypte bands aan het rock & roll-front een unicum. Een viermansband met het even brede als ongrijpbare geluid van een omvangrijk huisorkest uit de garagebar van de hel. Een fantastische zanger. Maling aan alle modes in de nieuwe beukmuziek. Gitaarpartijen waar de Scientists en The Birthday Party hun hoed voor af zouden nemen. En songs die stante pede blijven hangen. Er gaat een gerucht dat je bier hebt… en Grolsch. Dat is gelul. Maar dit klopt wel: je hebt de New Rock Revolution… én je hebt The Drones.

Nanne Tepper

Gothcore - The Netherlands

Smerige Rock muziek. Dat is wat we te verwerken krijgen bij The Drones. De Australische band houdt de eer van het land hoog en houdt met 'Here come the lies' meer dan zeventig minuten de aandacht moeiteloos vast. Natuurlijk, wanneer je het over Australië hebt en je hebt het over Noise Rock dan valt automatisch de naam van The Birthday Party. De band waar Nick Cave furore mee maakte voor hij er met The Bad Seeds vandoor ging. The Drones heeft wel wat van The Birthday Party, muzikaal althans. Opener "The cockeyed lowlife of the highlands" is het perfecte visitekaartje voor deze Australische band. Vindt je dit niks, laat het album dan maar mooi in de schappen staan is de onderliggende boodschap. Om het album toch ruim zeventig minuten interessant te houden is er ook ruimte voor meer ingetogen passages. "I'd been told" is hier een mooi voorbeeld van. Zanger (nou ja, zang..) Gareth Liddiard kleurt de muziek van The Drones verder in, maar ragt ondertussen liever mee met de rest van de band. De teksten zijn, zoals het een band als The Dronese beaamt, smerig, misschien zelfs een beetje shockerend. Dat "Hell and Haydeville", "The scrap iron sky" en "New kind of kick" niet over kangoeroes gaan die rustig in de Australische droogte staan te grazen hoeft dan ook niet onbekend te blijven.

Dat het album tweeënzeventig minuten duurt is vooral te danken aan "I walked the dam", "Hell and Haydeville" en "Six ways to sunday". Lange rustig opbouwende nummers die soms in een ware chaos lijken te eindigen. Bij deze nummers is de vergelijking met het meer complexe materiaal van Nick Cave gemakkelijk te maken. Geheel onterecht, want The Drones heeft een eigen geluid ontwikkelt in hun nog jonge bestaan. Het is dan ook niet de structuur die ontbreekt bij The Drones. Eigenlijk is er helemaal niks wat ontbreekt op 'Here come the lies'. Natuurlijk kan ik hier nu gaan zitten zeiken en zeggen dat 'Here come the lies' met zeventig minutem aan de lange kant is, maar laten we dat beschouwen als een luxe probleem. Er zijn immers al genoeg albums die aan de korte kant zijn. Laat het dan ook eens andersom zijn. Liefhebbers van White Trash Blues, Noise Rock (of hoe je deze smerige muziek van Australische makelij ook maar wil noemen) weten wat hun te doen staat. 

8,9

Ate Hoekstra

Southspace – Art and Noise – Germany  (The Drones first review that completely slags them off)

In Australien laufen die Uhren anders. Und das nicht nur bei den Jahreszeiten. Aus dem Hause Spooky Records, ansässig in Melbourne kommt nun das erste Full- Length Album der `Dornes´. Was es da zu hören gibt ist überhaupt nicht mein Fall.

Das fängt allein schon damit an das die 12 Lieder geschlagene 72 Minuten dauern. Wer das dann durchsteht fühlt sich danach auch wirklich geschlagen. Doch am schlimmsten ist noch die Musik. Auf der ganzen CD wird kaum ein Ton sauber gespielt. Alles ist verzerrt oder wird durch irgendwelche Effekt Maschinen gejagt. Bei einer durchschnittlichen Laufzeit von 6 Minuten pro Song ist ganz schnell der Punkt erreicht an dem das einem gehörig auf die Eier geht!

Ich weiß nicht, ob die Musik im Drogenrausch entstanden ist oder einfach nur pseudo- intellektuell. Auf jeden Fall sind Parallelitäten zu den Doors eindeutig hörbar. Den erdentschwebten Zustand merkt man auch den Texten an. Da fällt mir eigentlich nichts genaueres dazu ein. Ansonsten sind in der CD leichte Country, Blues, Garage Rock und Rock` n Roll Einflüsse verpackt. Nur ihre Interpretation ist einfach abartig.

Am besten trifft es ein leicht abgeändertes Zitat eines Literaturkritikers: "Das ist keine Musik. Das ist Körperverletzung!" Wer auf experimentellen Sound steht, der soll das auch. Ansonsten würde ich meine Finger von den Drones lassen.
 

 Michi

Logo Magazine – UK

Hampered by a name suggestive of throbbing primal rhythms and the relentless white noise of The Velvet Underground, The Drones have done themselves little favours. Although in places, specifically the torturous, cascading guitars of ‘Dekalb Blues’, they could easily pass for distant cousins of the legendary smacked-out rockers, there’s a breadth of outlook here that hints at more catholic objectives. For this is white trash blues; urgent and spiky, riddled with an underlying narrative that courts desperation, violence and perversity as its focus. Spitting out hellacious feedback and prickly post-punk at an unrelenting pace, ‘Here Comes The Lies’ is an unrelenting assault on the senses, raw, abrasive and riddled with promise. Keep your eye on them.

Matt Brown

Platenworm Music. - The Netherlands

Totally amazing Australian band that recalls the glory days of the Birthday Party / Scientist / Beasts Of Bourbon / Raw rocking with a healthy mental problem like say Scratch Acid/Jesus Lizard's David Yow makes one of the best Australian Garage records in the last decennia. Comes with the HIGHEST recommendation.

Pieter

Mondongo Canibal - Madrid Spain

WFMU's New Jersey  BEST OF Hip Transistor 2002

CR Entertainment - Switzerland

Cyclops Zine - USA

"Here come the lies" is the debut album from Melbourne, Australia’s the Drones. It’s out on Spooky Records. This four piece play a raw, intense trashy blues punk. They remind me a little of the Horrors. The record starts off all crazy and messed up with "The Cockeyed Lowlife of the Highlands." It has a dissonant guitar part and a herky-jerky rhythm. Singer, Gareth Liddiard, sure can turn a phrase and scream his guts out. "…well it seems you’te shakin’, shakin’, shakin’ so bad, the Pigs are gonna tack us with a Richter scale." On Huddie Ledbetter’s "Dekalb Blues" the Drones get slow and quite. Quite, until halfway through when the thing explodes in a guitar feedback frenzy solo. Guitarist, Rui Petaira, has a great style that’s feedback drentched and always seems almost out of control. "New Kind of Kick" has a slow killer riff. I love Liddiard’s hiccup vocal on the chorus. The song ends in a flurry of distortion and chaos. "Motherless Children" is the Drones take on a classic song. It has the structure of a blues tune and will rock your ass off. I love the sing-along chorus. The album has a few long rambling slow tunes I didn’t care for. However, when the Drones stick to the rockin’ tunes like the last one, "Country of Love, they are really something. So check out these boys from down under. I think you’ll like ‘em.

Cyclops Mark

The Sleazgrinder - Massachusetts, USA

Goddamn, sounds like these ditchwater Aussies got the devil in 'em something fierce. The devil, in this case, being Tex Perkins. The Drones have obviously bowed in supplication to the unholy scriptures he's written in the Beasts of Bourbon, and that same sort of clammy, brittle-boned, swamp whiskey evil is positively bleeding out of the pores of "Here Comes the Lies". The screeching, flailing guitar sounds on this record couldn't possibly be the work of regular old humans- I suspect alligator men. And Gareth Liddiard's vocals sound like Nick Cave, were Nick Cave capable of unspeakable acts. And there are walls of noise built out of feedback and harmonicas and bowling balls dropped on pianos that flare-up like menacing infernos, only to crumble into barroom boogie and alcoholic lament, without shame. And there are moments of scary, absolute beauty and admirable ugliness, trading spit like sloppy lovers. Brother, I am not just impressed, I am awed, and just a little frightened. Not since Poison 13- and that was a long fuckin' time ago- has a hillbilly voodoo rock and roll band managed to sound so menacing, and so sexy, all at once. As Jesus Perkins himself once said, "Get into the end of the world. It won’t hurt you. It fits in, just right". Yeah, just right. End of the world. Killer rock and roll.

 Sleazegrinder

Delayed Reactions - Germany

Bei den Drones handelt es sich nicht um noch eine reunion Platte der englischen 77er Recken sondern, hier haben wir mal für hiesige Verhältnisse was ganz obskures. Und wenn ich sage obskur meine ich nicht nur die Tatsache daß es sich hier eine unbekannte Band auf einem sympathischen australischen Minilabel handelt. Auch musikalisch geht es hier nicht gerade straight zur Sache, aber gerade das macht diesen Silberlang inzteressant. Hier gibt es ein crudes SoundgewiTter das am ehesten mit Bands wie: John Spencer Blues Explosion oder auch den göttlichen Cramps zu vergleichen ist. Wenn ich hier mal den Vergleich ranziehen darf, und annehmen würde diese Band käme aus Amerika, dann würde ich sagen sie sind definitiv auf In the Red Records zu Hause, und wem dieses Label etwas sagt der weiß auch bescheid was er von dieser Platte zu halten hat, nämlich eine ganze Menge. Wem dieser Soundliegt der sollte hier möglichst schnell zuschlagen und auch die anderen Releases von Spooky Record auf keinen Fall außer acht lassen denn da geht es mitunter noch ein bisschen kränker zur Sache.

Chris

Sonic Dirt - Nottingham, England

Downright Dirty Sleazy Bloozy Rawk 'n' Roll straight outta Australia. It's good to hear something from the other side of the world that differs from the usual AC/DC - Radio Birdman inspired sound we've been inundated with recently. Mixing up a good dirge of hardcore punk and blues and country inspired noise. The Drones are dark, angry and in yer face. Switching from high octane speed fuelled punk to seething swampy blues with no let up. Opening track 'The Cockeyed Lowlife of the Highlands' reels you in and beats you senseless. It makes you question why bands like the Icarus Line have received so much hype over the last year. The Berry penned 'Downbound Train' gets souped up 'n' cranked up with Gareth Liddiards blues holler leading the onslaught at every turn. The Drones have been hailed as the most important Australian band since the Scientists and understandably so. 'Motherless Children' is turned into an all out fuzz stomp to challenge the Oblivians at their peak. Fans of In The Red should really sit up and pay attention, the Drones are everything Larry Hardy has ever been after in a band. If you want dark and heavy you won't be able to find any better than this.

Lee

Thrust Magazine Ontario, Canada

The best noise makers from down under since the Birthday Party were releasing bats, The Drones writhe and squirm through a mutilated blues set as the mikes feedback, the amps sizzle and the sound board smokes. There is semblance of structure, which is quickly destroyed by guitar chaos, then miraculously reconstructed before the studio catches fire. Blues? Rock? Country? Hell, yeah! This thing is hot. Crazy hot. The Drones one up the Cramps with a juiced take on "New Kind of Kick", and give poor old Leadbelly another reason to grave roll with a smashing version of "Dekalb Blues". Look, there are poor bastards who will wince at this, but you know better. Demand The Drones and nothing less.
 

John Sekerka

Juice Magazine, Australia.

There’s something very Nick Cave / Boys Next Door in the frenetic, gruff vocal screams of Gareth Liddiard, and the same can be said of the dirty blues-rock settings. Sure, there are plenty of contenders for the new rock title, but few sound as gritty and raw and explosive as the Drones on this full-length album.

Bronwyn Thompson.

Revolver Mag - Sydney, Australia

Rip It Up - Adelaide, Australia

With all the power of a full force sonic emotional whirlwind, Melbourne’s noisy, raggedy-ass Riprockers The Drones exorcise a booty load of demons on Here Come The Lies… and don’t it feel good! Like a form of contemporary urban guerilla blues (metaphorical or otherwise), there’s no mistaking the explosive nature of the expunged emotions they wring their collective instruments here. It could also just easily be called gen-yoo-ine folk punk a la Dirty Three, The Birthday Party, Come, JSBX or The Swans. We’re talking about longing, torture, torment, hatred, dissatisfaction, sexual angst and the need for thrills… all the good stuff. The Drones capture a certain sense of soul with every gleeful drop of (their own) blood spilled by not so much beating around the bush but just fucking getting on with it.

There’s also a very interesting revivalist streak going on in these murky waters. Traditional tunes such as Downbound Train, a thumping take on Motherless Children and Ledbelly’s Dekalb Blues are all run through The Drones’ gauntlet and transformed unprettified for the new century; as is their debauched tear through The Cramps’ New Kind Of Kick. Raw, beaten, skinned yet alive and still ready to fight, these readings not only sound like The Drones’ own story but like a nightmare coming to a bedroom near you.

Their own tales are told with adept lyrical imagery, even if they are often desolate, they’re always fun. The record’s centrepiece is a sprawling monolith called Six Ways to Sunday, boasting lines such as, "strung up from the moon by your umbilical cord," and taking the listener to hell (in a hat basket) and back with white-hot seething dismissive fury.

The Drones are certainly rock’n’roll and anything but nice… dark, agro, blood-stained, fucked up and horny — what more could you ask?

Nazz (tarzangripisrealgoodshit)

The Rawk - Nashville, USA

i don't know a thing about these aussies but they sure raise one helluva
cool racket! not as outta control as the beasts of bourbon but similar
in sound...equal parts skronk and swamp...they are on to something
here. remember naked prey? band from arizona in the mid-80's? this
is along those lines but with a little more piss 'n' vinegar. cool take on
the cramps' "new kinda kick" is included but the real highlight is their
take on the trad. "motherless children" which would scare the hell outta
any kid i know!

Manthon

The First Church of Holy Rock and Roll - Columbia, USA

The record that broke through my writer's block. All the way from Perth, Australia, this well-named foursome make the noise of the best bad hangover you ever had and, in the process, beat the run of American "shit blues" bands (like Immortal Lee County Killers and the Soledad Brothers, for instance) coming and going, not only because they don't try so hard to be "bad" and eschew minstrel tomfoolery, but also because they write with detail (cover the hell outta "New Kind of Kick," and it's not nearly the best song). If you're tired of waiting for some new Mick Collins stuff, here you go.

The Reverend Wayne Coomers

The Trash Compactor - Germany     ******

This CD contains without a doubt some of the most intense shit I've heard in a looong time. White Trash Blues has never sounded so urgent and so desperate before, and it's also so entirely different from what you might expect from some 20-something Australians playing the blooze. The local press already praised the Drones to the skies and described them as a conglomerate of Blues Explosion-style noise, early Cramps-like rock'n'roll mess and the gloominess of Nick Cave's Birthday Party. I also hear the manic-depressive anger of early Black Flag and a good chunk of Neil Young & Crazy Horse circa "Ragged Glory". Add to this the lyrical maturity of Jeffrey Lee Pierce and you'll get half of what the Drones are about. The other 50 percent is totally their own blood, sweat and tears that should lead the band either to world-wide fame or total obscurity. There's no room for mediocrity here. So if you're looking for good time garage romp you definitely came the wrong place. "Here Come The Lies" is music for the bad times but in a good, good way. Buy this CD and let the Drones take you on a 70 min+ rollercoaster ride into the tormented soul of an angry man - a ride that's dangerous, sinister, eloquent and never boring. You won't be disappointed.

 Mack

Inpress - Melbourne Australia

The Drones are a live band.  Nobody’s going to dispute that.  No Steely Dan style studio journey’s for them.  Here Come The Lies is essentially a well recorded live CD, but without the audience.  So why bother recording a Drones CD at all?  Why not just tell people ‘if you want to hear The Drones, get down to The Tote, The Espy, or wherever, and see them live’? Well not everyone in this world can make it to The Tote any given night of the week.  Do you want them to be deprived of the opportunity to wig out to The Drones dark and manic energy just because they’re geographically challenged? No you don’t.  So here’s the album.

And even if you are capable of seeing these Perth transplants play in their new home town of Melbourne any night, you might be so enchanted by their dense sandstorm blasts that you want to be able to keep them near and listen to them whenever you feel the driving urge to escape from the ordered, and mundane necessities of daily life.  When you want to grow your hair long, not shower for a couple of days, live on alcohol and cigarettes and sleep in your cloths.

Yep, The Drones want to let you know that the dark side is not dead and buried.  That rock and roll can corrupt and excite and disturb and possess you and that, even if it’s only a one hour fantasy, leave you heaving and smiling, a richer person.  By playing the songs live, the band themselves are actually doing that on tape, making Here Come The Lies potent medicine.

So imagine if all of we citizens of the globe subjected ourselves to such things on a regular basis.  Picked up our Drones records off our desks, walked out at lunch-hour with a pair of headphones, faced a few demons, exorcised a few frustrations, leapt into the air and walked back to that desk an hour later with twinkly eyes, Hmmmm

- Martin Jones

Drum Media / Metalshop.com - Sydney, Australia

Intensity thy new name be Melbourne’s The Drones with their debut full length slab, ‘Here Come The Lies’ on Spencer P. Jones’ Spooky Records label. Jesus! Whatever the hell it was The Scientists, The Birthday Party and very early Cramps were summoning this lot, and are channeling whole in all it’s evil glory. I haven’t heard anything in a rockist format as deliciously unsettling as this in many, many years. And it’s no white heat thirty minute blaze of black heartedness. We’re talking 12 tracks over an epic 73 minutes which makes for one marathon utterly draining listen which may well have been the whole idea. The new devil’s music starts here. Twelve bars never sounded so threatening.

Murray Engleheart

CitySearch - Melbourne , Australia

Cow-punk jailbirds launch lean and nasty debut

It was Bono who coined the phrase "three chords and the truth" to describe all that's noble and powerful about rock'n'roll. Unspeakably raunchy Perth outfit The Drones beg to differ with their potent debut, Here Come The Lies.

Guitarists Gareth Liddiard and Rui Pereira did a bunk from Gutterville Splendour last year to move east. Bassist Fiona Kitchin followed later and, with drummer Chris Strybosch on board, they quickly gobsmacked Melbourne audiences with an approach reminiscent of the Cramps, the Birthday Party and the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion at the business end of a petrol-drinking contest.

All the wild western fire and horror is beautifully captured on the new LP, an hysterical catalogue of guns, murder, getaway cars, controlled substances, toilet seats and the desperate characters who abuse them. As if they needed validation, it's out on Spooky Records, home to original cowpunk outlaw Spencer P Jones.
 

Michael Dwyer

Time Off - Brisbane, Australia

Dan Brodie reckons he’d walk across a desert to see this band – lucky for him, they play practically on his doorstep in their adopted home of Melbourne. Spencer P Jones calls them “Australia’s answer to Blacktop” and Tex Perkins says they’re “the best Aussie band since The Scientists”.    (Some people don't read bio's properly and miss some of the detail.  Tex was talking about The Gutterville Splendor Six where some of The Drones sprang from. -Ed Spooky)

In the face of that high praise, this debut full-length shapes up very well indeed. ‘The Cockeyed Lowlife Of The Highlands’ rips with the menace of the original ‘Your Pretty Face…’. ‘The Downbound Train’ is catchy, bluesy rock. ‘New Kind Of Kick’ and ‘Motherless Children’ are garage gems.

The other side of The Drones is just as intriguing: ‘Six Ways To Sunday’ is a Rowland S. Howard-style dirge and ‘Dekalb Blues’, ‘The Scrap Iron Sky’ and ‘I’d Been Told’ have a sense of desolation that lingers.

Totally straight up rock’n’roll: that’s what Melbourne quartet The Drones promise. And deliver. Here come the lies (Spooky) is loud, spiky, beefy, and soulful: two guitars, bass, drums and lead singer.  There’s even a touch of country in there somewhere. Forget your Strokes and Vines and buy this record instead.

Ben Butler

The river of new music flows unabated, and experienced tune shoppers develop triggers that may at least indicate something is worth a listen, be it a label, producer, session musicians or trusted artist. This debut from Perth transplants The Drones presses several buttons.  The Melbourne- based Spooky Records, recent home of Spencer P. Jones, is becoming a sure-fire sign that the band behind the label rock like fiends, and a big thanks to producer Loki Lockwood, working out of Atlantis Studios, for the grimy, grinding one-take sound.  The Drones climbed out of the same primordial DNA swamp that gave rise to Kim Salmon’s Scientists, Beasts of Bourbon and Neil Young in Crazy Horse mode, all raw vocals and great slabs of discordant guitars pushed to the point of ragged glory.  Gareth Liddiard is the talent on vocals, guitar and main songwriting, while Rui Pereira on guitar, Fiona Kitchen on bass and Chris Strybosch on drums flesh out a band that are really something special. Not all of the songs work, but numbers such as the eight-minute psycho-dramas I Walked Across the Dam and Hell and Haydevils show they’re not afraid to push the boundaries.

Jeff Gorfeld

This is some dark and snarling music. The songs themselves bring back memories of faded Dinosaur Jr t-shirts and stinky cowboy shirts, of plastic beer pots with cracks in them. Of rolled cigarettes and of being drunk by 4 in the afternoon. Of getting to the show late and trying to snake your way through to the front of the crowd without being spotted by the speed freak who still thinks you owe him money. It’s music of scuffed Blundstones and chatting up people you’re not really even that interested in. ‘I’ve Been Told’ oozes with the same kind of helplessness as a 3 day binge, of waking up the next day with cuts on your hands and gum in your hair.  Recorded live the songs subject matter is as dark and unrelenting as it gets.    Topics include everything from driving getaway cars, forlorn hookers and drunken guys lying almost dead on barroom floors. But despite the bleak subject matter of most songs Here Come the Lies is not without a good shot of humour ‘Chrome! Preen! Tarzan Grip is real good shit! cries vocalist Gareth Liddiard on a cover of the Cramps ‘New Kind of Kick’ while on the album’s best track ‘Six Ways to Sunday’ he sings ‘What felt like purgatory just last week is starting to feel more like a toilet seat’ This is swamp blues at it’s swampiest. You want classic song structure or ‘love me tender’ type lyrics, we’ll you’ve come to the wrong place. There’s going to be a lot of people who will hate the songs, the delivery, the singing and the playing. The Drones don’t give a fuck. They are from Perth. They are used to people hating them. The guitar of Rui Pereira morphs in and out of the bass licks of Fiona Kitchin while angry drums of Christian Strybosch help with the menacing vibe. But it’s Liddiard vitriolic and venomous snarl that makes the songs sound well so, angry.  Covers of Chuck Berry’s ‘Downbound Train’ and Leadbelly’s ‘Dekalb Blues’ are given their own unique spin and the by the closing ‘The Country of Love’ where Liddiard sings about ‘pills and dildos and constipation and lies’ you’ve realise that you’ve born witness to a harrowing 12 songs.

Tim Scott