Live Review: Hope Drone, Fourteen Nights At Sea, We Lost The Sea, Old Love

The Old Bar is an odd choice of venue for post-rock and atmospheric metal. The wandering ambience of three of the evening's four bands is best heard in wide open spaces, but tonight it's in a cramped, narrow room. That's not a problem for Old Love, the technical hardcore five-piece that kick off the evening's festivities. Space is at a premium, so Old Love's vocalist spends the set roaming the front of the room, mouth agape and vocal cords pushed to the limit with every screamed syllable. After only 15 minutes, they're done, ending as abruptly as they begin.

Tonight's bill is a sandwich of post-rock between two slices of brutality, and We Lost The Sea provide the first filling. The Sydney outfit start late and open with the spoken samples of Challenger Part 1 - Flight, from their just-released album Departure Songs. Soon enough, the room is awash in sprawling waves of cascading guitars and crushing drums. Yet after only half an hour it's over and curious in its absence from their set is A Gallant Gentleman, the lead single from Departure Songs and easily one of the most emotionally rousing post-rock songs of the last few years. When an amazing band travels interstate and opts for their more meandering material to the exclusion of their best work, it's hard not to feel disappointed.

The Old Bar is awash in chatter when Fourteen Nights At Sea take the stage and, to the detriment of their set, the noise doesn't die down. Fourteen Nights At Sea don't set out to break the post-rock mould but instead to perfect it, and they do it better than almost anyone in the country. On record they're pleasant and moving, but in person they're a force of nature, with moody melodies that envelope the entire space and evoke the most poignant feeling of loneliness, even in a crowded room. It's hard to focus on their quieter segments owing to the ambient noise — who goes to a post-rock gig just to talk shit in the bandroom all night during the sets? — but in their louder moments, Fourteen Nights at Sea simultaneously channel the devastation of loss and the ecstasy of life. 

On their new record, Cloak Of Ash, Hope Drone sound huge, yet their scope is marred, buried beneath tinny production. In the flesh however, even in that tiny room at The Old Bar, Hope Drone are a cataclysm. Everything from the blast beats to the droning atmospheres to the high-end squeals of the tremolo-picked guitars — all strikes with the weight of a meteor. The chasms of drone on The Chords That Thrum Beneath The Earth are ever wider, while the unbridled fury of The World Inherited hits with the fury of a thousand suns. After tonight, it's safe to say that in Hope Drone, we've found one of Australia's best metal bands.