Feelin Kinda Free

According to Liddiard: "It's a pretty weird record and you can dance to it...We're sick of being a bunch of drags."[5] The album was described in its press release as “a bad trip you can dance to”.[11]

Critics have described the album as "menacing",[5] "ominous"[17] and "visceral".[6] Mischa Pearlman of Record Collector considers it to be "weirder and more twisted than anything they’ve released before."[18] Joe Whyte of Louder Than War noted the incorporation of "krautrock and even funk into the drums and bass although it’s no less unnerving than some of their earlier blizzards of guitar noise."[18] Many critics noted the reduced presence of guitars on the album, with The Guardian writing: "The emphasis is mostly on bass and percussion: guitars are heavily treated; frequently, you’d be forgiven for thinking there are no guitars at all."[5][11] The "greater variation and eclecticism" in the band's use of Fiona Kitschin's backing vocals (more prominently present on this album) have earned comparisons to that of CocoRosie.[19] The music overall has earned comparisons to older Australian post-punk bands such as Pel Mel, Sardine v and Laughing Clowns,[5][11] while Mojo likened it to a "Gibby Haynes-fronted Bongwater."[20]

The opener "Private Execution" "starts with a familiar cacophony of guitar noise"[18] that "suggests Muse by way of King Crimson"[6] and features "guttural bass lines",[17] The song has been described as "industrial, Sigur Ros-ian post-rock"[17], and the guitars during its ending climax earned comparisons to the "Sicilian strings" from The Godfather soundtrack.[11] Its lyrics explore several themes, including violence in relation to human history, and references the Bali Nine.[21] The following track "Taman Shud" (released as a single) mentions the infamous, unsolved 1948 murder case of the same name, and has been described as "at once a glorious celebration of the best qualities of Australiana and a vitriolic riposte to all that’s ill in the lucky country"[22] Liddiard has described the song as a “big piss off [to those who] try to lay down the rules and the terms, tell you what you have to do to be Australian”.[22] The music has been described as "arrythmic", "stark", "jagged"[11] and "simmer(ing) with atonal uneasiness".[6] The lyrics to "Then They Came For Me" references the poem "First they came..." by Martin Niemöller[23] and deals with the subject of immigration from the point of view of a refugee[5] whilst the music has been described as "idiosyncratic"[18] and "anti-anthemic".[6] "To Think That I Once Loved You" is "an achingly sad ballad that skilfully treads the line between gentle and unnerving without a misstep"[17] that has been musically described as "icy, downtempo electronica".[6] The Needle Drop compared the track to A Silver Mt. Zion.[3]

The track "Tailwind" features "Reflektor-style minimal electronics"[17] with lyrics that deal with obsolescence and irrelevance.[24] "Boredom" has been described as "hip hoppy"[17] with lyrics that "(name-drop) welfare states and Islamic caliphates, prophecising the imminent death of the 'cradle of civilisation' – the Middle East" as well as "describing the drivers of young people joining terrorist organisations, specifically IS" from the perspective of a Muslim teenager living in the Western Suburbs (according to The Monthly, the track is "partly told from the viewpoint of Jake Bilardi [...]"[25]).[26] The chorus on the track has been noted for being similar to "Boredom" by Buzzcocks.[11] The song "Sometimes", featuring lead vocals from Fiona Kitschin, has been described as the band's "weird and twisted take on trip hop",[3] with lyrics that critique modern consumerism.[27] The closing track "Shut Down SETI" refers to the search for extraterrestrial intelligence and lyrically explores "human savagery from the perspective of an extra terrestrial outsider"[17] as well as motivations of vanity and pride in the guise of "scientific curiosity" which is often used to justify such research.[28] It has been musically described as ""Taman Shud"’s angrier, drunker older brother", with Liddiard and Kitschin's vocals contrasting to create a "two-pronged environment" that culminates in a "finale overture, as though drawing elements from every single prior track on the album."[29] Allmusic noted that the track, "with its surrealistic ranting, sudden stylistic shifts, and white squalls of dissonance, wouldn't have sounded out of place on David Bowie's Blackstar."[6]

The original unsolved Tamam Shud code.

The cover features the unsolved code from the Tamam Shud case.[30] It was "found written on a scrap of paper – which was ripped from a book found in a random man’s car footwell – which ended up in the pocket of an unidentified corpse on Somerton beach in Adelaide in 1948."[31] Of the incident, Liddiard said: “It’s well known, [...] Everyone in America knows about the whole fucking thing, but no one in Australia is interested in anything Australia.”[31]

The single "Taman Shud" caused controversy for referencing Andrew Bolt in its lyric "I don’t care about no Andrew Bolt",[32] who later responded by writing that "(the band was) stamping on the ashes of the west’s musical traditions" and that this is proof he was "offending exactly the right kind of people."[33][34] In response, Liddiard said:

For him it’s a pose: trashing inner-city lefties indie rock band, saying they’re fucked. He’s keeping up appearances for his fans. Trashing us was a really cynical move. Good on him. Thanks for that Andrew![35]

The Drones performing in 2016

Professional ratings

Aggregate scores
Source	Rating
AOTY	80/100[36]
Metacritic	71/100[37]
Review scores
Source	Rating
AllMusic	[6]
Drowned in Sound	8/10[17]
The Guardian	[5]
Louder Than War	9/10[11]
Mojo	[20]
Ox-Fanzine	[38]
Q	[39]
Record Collector	[18]
Uncut	7/10[40]

The album received a Metacritic score of 71 based on 7 reviews, implying a "generally favorable" critical reception.[37]

Drowned in Sound called it "the best apocalypse soundtrack you’ll ever hear"[17], while The Guardian called it "a menacing, avant-garde interrogation of Australia", going on to write that "sounds like the work of a less dour and far more subversive band."[5] Louder Than War called it "a masterclass in genre-defying rock" in which "no prisoners are taken".[11] According to Record Collector, the album "covers so much ground – musically, thematically, philosophically, politically – that it’s like a lifetime of experiences swirling inside your head simultaneously" calling it "important" in "a modern world ever more tailored to undemanding audiences and reduced attention spans".[18]

Allmusic was more reserved in its praise, writing that "(it's) certainly not an upbeat listen, nor are its myriad regional allusions easy to parse for non-Australians", despite calling it engaging "on a cerebral level that (is) consistently intoxicating, even at its most lethal."[6] Q gave a more mixed review, calling the album "a mess, but [...] never less than an absorbing one."[39]

In addition to the ones listed below, comedians Tom Ballard and James Acaster included Feelin Kinda Free among their favourite albums of 2016.[41][42]

The song "Taman Shud" was covered by Laura Jean both live and as a demo, the latter of which appeared on the Thirty Days of Yes mixtape (featuring music from artists championing LGBT marriage equality in Australia).[52][53]