The Drones reviewed
The Drones
Havilah
(ATP/R)
The Drones are certainly banking on educated (or adventurous) music fans to look at their name in conjunction with their label (All Tomorrow’s Parties) and not care whether they’re a Velvet Underground rip-off.
Appearing: Tuesday, April 7th at Schubas in Chicago.
‘Cuz they’re not. Before VU, nothing really droned in pop music, unless you counted the myriad, sycophantic teen-idol sound-alikes who swarmed after Elvis left for Germany. The Drones’ Havilah doesn’t drone, croon, or make any overt attempt to flag down one of your weaknesses. Instead, Gareth Liddiard will battle you alone in a test of wills, whereupon his cut-up lyrical transfers will cave in your weary mind. Now that you have the words out of the way, Havilah is a relative breeze. Blues rock has had its ass violated these days, and The Drones aren’t about to let the corpse rest. In fact, the album’s final 20 minutes are bound to ostracize a roommate, girlfriend, or both. But the first half’s gutter battle is akin to Neil Young with a switchblade and a cocaine hankering, and its calling is your throat, drone or no drone.
— Steve Forstneger
