A typical Drones Club live show is part-way between a religious ceremony and a political rally. When they played at London’s Corsica Studios, they transformed the venue into a quasi-art installation. Before that, they performed in a post-apocalyptic portacabin at the Arcola Theatre, handing out pamphlets. Then there was the time they stormed London Fashion Week, staging a guerilla gig while decked out in balaclavas and boiler suits.
It’s fair to say that these aren’t the sort of shows that most new bands play – but then again, Drones Club aren’t like most new bands. While they are ostensibly a London-based trio who write exquisite electronic pop songs, they favour a model that’s collaborative rather than competitive, functioning as a collective, an organisation, a beacon of ideas. Think the conceptual hijinks of Bill Drummond, the mock-corporate organisational structures of Devo, or the situationist ideas of The Residents and transplant it onto ultra-contemporary pop songwriting and production. Drones Club are building an alternate reality where anything is possible and anyone is welcome.
Drones Club formed in the spring of 2015 out of a desire to reconnect people in a low-attention economy. Within their short lifetime, they've received acclaim from publications such as The Guardian, Noisey and Stereogum, received airplay from Annie Mac and Phil Taggart, and played shows with fellow noise merchants HEALTH. After self-releasing two EPs of chugging cosmic disco and gospel-tinged techno-pop, they issued their debut single 'Soul of a Spaceman' - a collaboration with South London singer Tallulah - through taste-making pop label PMR (Jessie Ware, Disclosure).
Drones Club's radical inclusivity and commitment to the physical, the spiritual and the experiential is a necessary and positive response to our current attention economy. Put out your hands and join the club.