Havilah, like everything The Drones have done, is an album of contradictions, where bombast meets beauty, melancholy wrestles with violent guitars and singer Liddiard’s incendiary voice lights up his angular poetry, this time on the nature of, in no particular order, the moon (Penumbra), divorce (The Drifting Housewife) and the acquisition of godlike power and the cult of John Frum (I Am the Supercargo). It’s an album that’s brimful of the innovation and artistic integrity that has made The Drones one of Australian rock’s most critically acclaimed acts here and overseas during the past four years. There are vaguely familiar nods to Neil Young’s paint-stripping guitar spasms on Supercargo and Oh My, while the deliciously meandering pop dirges of Suicide and the Velvet Underground echo in Careful As You Go and Luck in Odd Numbers. The outstanding ballad here, Cold and Sober, is a song The Drones have recorded several times during their eight-year reign without it ever making the grade. There’s also the relative immediacy but still complex structure of the first single The Minotaur, Liddiard’s scathing rant on the wasters of the world, while the lengthy opening Nail It Down perhaps best reflects The Drones’ grand scope, flitting as it does between acoustic ambience and rumbling rock ‘n’ roll meltdown.