You’re dying. I’m dying. The Drones are dying. Slowly. We all are going to shake hands with the reaper soon enough. The difference is The Drones are documenting their downward spiral with music and word. Rhyme and reason. This band hails from Australia. Melbourne to be exact. Australia is somewhere I haven’t heard much about lately. Fascinating place to me though. Anytime I see something about Australia or New Zealand on TV I watch it. I’m a big fan of past Oz acts like The Chosen Few, Cosmic Psychos, Thought Criminals, and shit. Well, The Drones do not disappoint. Fusing blues and rockabilly into something that sounds like The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion mixed with The Cramps. The Drones attack with a non-diluted venom and have the hard lives to prove it. Reading their bio is like reading a group’s last chance, it’s either this (The Drones), or death and depravity. Hell, maybe even all three. The Drones are mean. The Drones are poetic dissidence! The Drones are upfront. The Drones are the raw human emotion of THE END. This is the kind of band that I would like to shake a case of beer with and make a suicide pact. You die, I die, we all die.