Live Review: The Drones, Harmony

There's not enough emphasis placed on uniquity in today's market, but Melbourne six-piece Harmony have individuality covered in spades with their powerfully epic demeanour. Some familiar faces – Tom Lyngcoln (The Nation Blue), Jon Chapple (Mclusky) and Alex Kastaniotis (Remake Remodel) – are abetted by a mini-choir of gorgeous female voices (adding a huge dramatic range to these howling, blues-based numbers) and the results are never far from staggering. Lyngcoln's powerful, emotive voice is like a weapon and also adds a distinctly Aussie slant, but it's the way his creepy guitar lines slither amidst the massive and moody bottom end that makes these songs so haunting – in the unnerving sense of the term – and undeniably effective. They open with new single Cut Myself Clean and stay predominantly within the realms of forthcoming sophomore album Carpetbombing – although older tracks such as Heartache, Fourteen and Cacophonous Vibes all get aired – and leave nothing in the tank. It's great to witness a band resolutely doing their own thing and utterly excelling.

Which is probably why they're such an apt support for The Drones, another band completely unafraid – indeed sometimes steadfastly determined – to take the road less travelled. Dark washes of purple and red swathe proceedings as they begin the slow, eerie build of I Sea Seaweed, the results both heroic and enthralling, undiminished no matter how many times you witness this majesty. The sprawling How To See Through Fog is next, before frontman Gareth Liddiard spits the lyrics to The Minotaur as if he has some bizarre in-tune affliction of Tourette's, and they follow with the relatively rare Baby² which is typically fierce but akin to a pop song in their hands with its surplus hooks and pounding beat. Locust is desolate but dominant, Nine Eyes ominous and elongated, Shark Fin Blues requires no descriptors, Laika is stilted and spiteful – everything's transformed by some weird alchemy into a force both confronting but compelling, and completely of their own. Steve Hesketh's jangling keys during I Don't Ever Want To Change highlight his importance to the current dynamic – the song collapsing into tuneful dissonance – before they finish with the driving old school vibe of Chuck Berry's The Downtrain Train, a romp they long ago made their own. After a brief break the Harmony gals lend their beautiful voices to the restrained Why Write A Letter That You'll Never Send, and then their bandmates join the fray for a pummelling rendition of Leonard Cohen's Diamonds In The Mine. There's craftsmanship and care to everything The Drones touch – plus intelligence and passion and sweat – and the results reflect this labour and commitment. And the fact that they didn't play the single that this tour's named after and they're ostensibly promoting is just another reason to love 'em...