Project Description

YOU AM I

2019 Australia Tour

@ The Governor Hindmarsh Hotel

03/10/19

(Live Review)

Reviewer: Caine RexEverything

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Among the glittering pantheon of Antipodean rock deities, the diamanté sequinned effigy of Tim Rogers stands out. Intelligent, honest, proudly imperfect and undeniably glorious.

He’s a man like none other on our country’s colourful music landscape. He is unique, a true bohemian and bon vivant. A dandy apeman and a dangerous delight. His is a debonair presence built on anachronism; an antique man in the modern world who looks and acts out of time. Our very own Adam Adamant.

You see it in his vintage attire. You hear it in interview soundbites. You read it in his marvellous recent autobiography, the rambling and raconteurial ‘Detours’. Tim Rogers is timeless, and thanks to his three decades as troubadour for legendary 90’s rock act You Am I, he’s also immortal.

All the greatest rock stars are.

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I love him. I love his unique style. I love his candidacy when discussing his mistakes and mental issues. I love his allegiances to a rock and roll sound indebted to the legacies of The Replacements, The Who and The Kinks. I love his beautiful, heartfelt and humorous lyrics and I love his mercurial stage antics. I love him for all he’s created and have done ever since I was fourteen and saw ‘Berlin Chair’ on RAGE and heard ‘Jewels And Bullets’ on Triple J. Thank God for those two bastions of Aussie culture, seriously.

 

Triple J’s range expanded in the 90’s, partnering with RAGE to champion Australian youth music nationwide. Both introduced my generation to an innovative new wave of alternative bands by giving unprecedented widespread exposure to young musicians from all corners of the land. You Am I were at the forefront of that explosion, one of the ‘BIG FIVE’ which included Silverchair, Powderfinger, Spiderbait and Grinspoon. You Am I trod a fine line of critical and commercial acclaim, dominating Australian music throughout the mid-late 90’s. They scored three consecutive number one albums, numerous ARIA Awards and recorded some of the best songs of the decade.

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Even as mainstream attention waned, You Am I maintained their reputation as an incendiary live act worth making the effort to see. They’re without doubt one of Australia’s greatest bands, surviving thirty years of success, failure, world tours, personal problems and an ever-changing musical climate to remain a powerful, unmissable live event.

 

I entered esteemed Adelaide venue The Governor Hindmarsh Hotel on Thursday evening intimately aware of what I would experience. I’d seen You Am I five times over the years and they always exceeded expectations. I looked forward to an electric performance and it was clear from the first song, this was a certainty.

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Punters were initially serenaded by magical Adalita, the former Magic Dirt queen who’s almost as renowned as the band she was supporting. The crowd were warmly receptive of her solo set, but there was no questioning why they were there. A triumphant roar welcomed the familiar faces of Rogers, Davey Lane, Rusty Hopkinson and Andy Kent on stage. This was an aged crowd of hardened You Am I fans and everyone in attendance greeted the foursome like good friends of old. Tim acknowledged the joyful cheers and quickly lead his bandmates into opener ‘The Sweet Life’. It was immediately followed by ‘Thuggery’ and ‘By My Own Hand’, effectively announcing that the night was to be devoted to criminally underrated 2006 album ‘Convicts’.

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The album featured extensively through the evening, with ten of its twelve tracks filling the set list. It was revelatory; I realised just how well that album has aged. Hearing many of those thirteen year old songs reinvigorated in a live setting proved that of all You Am I releases, ‘Convicts‘ has dated the least.

 

“Yeah, I’m a mess and I’m batting way up my league, for all the arm-swings and pretty things that I sing, I’m a fuckin’ disease – and you’re a jewel, a drop from some of heaven’s gene pool, and when you turn your head yeah, you can hear the stares all droop”

 

Christ, it was furious fun. The breakneck flurry of ‘Gunslingers’ merged into ‘I’m A Mess’ (forever a sentimental favourite) and ‘Friends Like You’. It was one knockout blow after another. Hopkinson brutalised his drums like he was back in his younger days of countless shitty punk bands. Kent steered his bass through a sharp, bouncing backdrop. Lane swaggered during his soaring solos with a Swinging Sixties sexual suggestiveness.

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Meanwhile, Rogers grinned, gurned and joked with the room between songs, talking up the sexual expertise of his roadies (who needs Tinder when you’ve got Tim-der?) and indulging us with his inimitable self-deprecating humour. He mentioned his recent 50th birthday, raising a celebratory cheer from the crowd which I suspect was one of surprise. Tim was playing up for his fans like a man half his age.

 

Fifty years old? You wouldn’t believe it if you saw him up there. A resplendent vision in his vivid red suit, Tim leapt back and forth, swung his hips, kicked his long legs and windmilled power chords like a reincarnation of Maximum R&B-era Pete Townsend. His raw exuberance lifted his bandmates to greater heights too, giving new edge to old standards like ‘She Digs Her’ and ‘How Much Is Enough’.

 

“Would it stain if the lights fell down on your name? And each face began to look all the same? How much is enough? Did you ever want to just lose touch with everybody you know?”

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The final act was embellished with a choice selection of early You Am I classics. These received the most boisterous reception. The first few notes of ‘Jewels And Bullets’ rippled through the crowd and it lit up like a Christmas Tree on the 24th December – a tinselly totem of giddy and gleeful childlike anticipation.

 

The excitement was all too much for one lubricated punter, who jumped on stage to grab the mic for a cheeky sing. Bless his little cotton socks. Credit to Rogers, his initial reaction was to push the drunk off stage, but he then stopped playing to kneel down and make certain the guy was unhurt. He looked visibly remorseful as security bullied through the crowd to escort the sloshed stage invader from the premises.

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It was only a short distraction, instantly forgotten when ‘Purple Sneakers’ began. Look, that was the moment I took off my reviewer hat and simply blissed out as a lifelong fan. I’m not sorry. It’s one of my all time favourite songs and hearing it live – even for the sixth time – engineers an emancipation for all the nostalgic emotion attached to its autobiographical lyrics:

 

“For every trouble you found, there’s a drink to lose it and drown, but do you need somebody to feel somebody?”

 

It fucking gets me every single time. Tears drenched my cheeks and I bellowed along, disappearing into the moment, lost to the yesterdays long gone and tomorrows still to come. It’s an extraordinary composition. I stand by my opinion that ‘Purple Sneakers’ is one of the greatest Australian songs of the 90s, perhaps ever, and I will fight anyone who disagrees in a to-the-death game of monopoly. They’ve obviously never seen it live. Or seen me play monopoly.

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If that song made me tear up, the impromptu rendition of ‘Heavy Heart’ made me bawl like a baby. Included at last minute in tribute to The Muffs’ leader Kim Shattuck, who’d died earlier that day from complications of MND, the spontaneous inclusion was so deeply affecting that plenty of us in the room were reduced to a sobbing mess.

 

This catharsis of grief proved rewarding, as everyone responded to the one-two punch finale of ‘Rumble’ and ‘Berlin Chair’ with the existential abandon of the spiritually reborn. The physical days of moshing may have long passed for all us grizzled and well-worn You Am I fans (okay, not so much for me), but the collective energy during these songs suggested the desire hadn’t waned.

 

“I’ll ignore each golden, dragging kiss you can give, on the blankest face that you ever had to forgive, if you see my failings, see my failings through, I’m the re-run that you’ll always force yourself to sit through.”

 

‘Berlin Chair‘ might be 26 years old, but by christ it still sparkles like it’s fresh off the showroom floor.

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The band bowed exited to thunderous applause from their spoiled, satisfied devotees. No encore was needed, they’d given plenty in a 90 minute set of premium Aussie rock brilliance. I wandered off dizzy, emotionally drained, drenched in beer (mostly mine) and delirious. They’d done it again, those lads. Those champs. Those bastards of young. Those princes of St Kilda. Those jokers of the East Coast. They’d exceeded all expectation yet again. Six out of six successful shows I’d seen. Little wonder they’re my favourite Australian band. Can’t bloody wait for the seventh.

Man I love Tim Rogers. Have I made that clear enough already? He’s our own little Ray Davies or Paul Westerberg. He’s aged like a fine wine – that’s a comparison I know he’d appreciate. He’s a godlike genius and I love him more than any other Australian musician. I love him more than most songwriters. I love him more than all of my friends. Hell, I love him more than crispy bacon on a hungover Sunday morning.

 

Yep. There it is. Tim Rogers: better than bacon. He should put that on his gravestone.

 

Not that he’ll ever really die. Fantastic creatures like him, true originals, they never do. He’s arguably become Australia’s greatest living rock star, still pounding stages like a clown, adored by thousands of miscreants and fuck ups and music aficionados worldwide. In my heart and in the heart of everyone else who also loves him, he’s immortal.

 

He’ll live forever in his music – and that’s fucking wonderful.

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Check out Kerrie Geier‘s gallery of the show here

Catch You Am I on tour, dates on their website

Connect with YOU AM I

Website / Facebook / Instagram

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