The Drones, Mess Hall @ The Gov, Adelaide 4/9/2026

The Drones don’t play together very often these days—in fact, it has been around ten years since their last full tour. Gareth Liddiard and Fiona Kitschin are kept busy with their current project, Tropical Fuck Storm, releasing new music and touring the world. Such is the enduring popularity of The Drones, however, that what began as a small six-date run has ballooned into a twenty-date juggernaut. The Gov sold out ages ago, a testament to their massive pulling power.

Adding to the event’s temptation, the night opened with another band we see far too little of: The Mess Hall. Jed Kurzel and Cec Condon’s last album was 2009’s For the Birds, and aside from a handful of shows in 2015, they have remained inactive. The audience turned up early for their return, and they were not disappointed.

Wearing a wide smile, drummer Cec Condon called out, “Nice to be back in Brisbane,” before laying into the hard-hitting intro of Diddley. From there, it was all flailing arms, punishing percussion, and wall-of-sound guitar work.

Just how much punishment can an instrument take? City of Roses and Pills pushed the limits before we found out the answer. Attempting to strap on his guitar for Pulse, Kurzel discovered the strap hook had failed. With a dry “this is going to be interesting,” he proceeded to play the track while holding the instrument up manually. The guitar eventually won, forcing Kurzel to call the song short, but the sheer unpredictability added a brilliant human touch to the set.

Disco 2 got the room moving—at least for those with any space left, as The Gov was by now packed wall-to-wall. Bare stood out as a major highlight, the sound ebbing and flowing between stripped-back drums and soaring guitar. With a quick “Thanks to The Drones for bringing us out of retirement,” they launched into an equally impressive Keep Walking.

While critics often draw immediate comparisons to two-piece acts like The White Stripes or Royal Blood, The Mess Hall carve out a distinct space with their sheer heavy weight and grit. Playing to packed rooms of deeply appreciative fans on this tour, perhaps the duo will realize just how much they’ve been missed—and that there’s life in the project yet.

The Drones music is best described as chaotic, and the band themselves embody that friction live. Tonight, however, we witnessed a higher form of anarchy.

Walking on stage, taking up their instruments, a sound evolved from the guitarists. It was a sort of weaving between them, not exactly in tune, not exactly noise. The drums sat high on a hi-rise platform, the drummer sitting tall on his drum stool, above the band watching, waiting, till the band’s music became a collective. Then he kicked in hard with a heavy beat that announced the opening sing Private Execution.

Without breaking stride, they tore straight into Sitting on the Edge of the Bed Cryin’, propelled by Fiona Kitschin’s low-end bass rumble. The crowd was locked in, long-devoted fans who had waited a decade to hear these songs live. Luck in Odd Numbers followed, shifting effortlessly between heavy rock and dark blues, with Gareth Liddiard’s powerhouse vocals sounding as though he was trying to sing himself inside out.

“Do you have a joke?” Liddiard asked, staring out into the room. A fan shouted back: “Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field.” Liddiard’s silence suggested it was time to let the music do the talking. Locust and Baby2 arrived with a fury, but it was the recognizable opening chords of Shark Fin Blues that sent a roar of appreciation echoing around the room.

A frantic cover of Kev Carmody’s River of Tears followed, played at breakneck speed as if the band were desperate to burn through it. As the final note faded, the band exited in a hurry with no farewells—save for Kitschin, who silently acknowledged the crowd by raising her glass of wine on the way off. They had been on stage for barely an hour.

The crowd went wild, chanting for an encore. The clamor continued for five solid minutes before the house lights came up and music started playing over the PA. Was that really it? Portions of the crowd were already heading for the doors when guitarist Dan Luscombe walked back out. “We just have to sort something out,” he announced, before asking, “Want a couple more?” The room erupted. The band reclaimed the stage for an electrifying rendition of I Am a Supercargo, building slowly from a simmer into a devastating wall of sound, followed immediately by an explosive I Don’t Ever Want to Change.

“Thank you for coming out” called Gareth, again walking of stage with the band. This time the lights stayed up for good.
Whatever “the something” was that needed sorting, the main set felt short. Yet what we got was incendiary, leaving the packed room desperate for more. Liddiard and Kitschin will return to Tropical Fuck Storm at the tour’s conclusion, and we wish them well. But nights like this prove that Australia still needs The Drones. The sold-out signs and packed rooms say it all.

Live Review by Geoff Jenke