Reviewed on Monday September 5
You couldn’t talk about a full-house You Am I gig in London without mentioning the X word. And yes there were plenty of expats in attendance, but that doesn’t mean the band assumed a lethargic approach, letting nostalgia and homesickness do the talking.
No sir. You Am I – at the risk of committing a grade-A faux pas – were here to rock. Last we’d seen them was in Melbourne on the eve of last November’s Porridge and Hotsauce LP, offering a set list loaded with new material. When they opened tonight’s show with that album’s lead single Good Advices, a similar splatter of Hotsauce felt imminent. However this wasn’t to be.
After Good Advices came The Ocean from 2010’s under-appreciated self titled LP, and the early imbalances in the front of house mix had been significantly remedied. By the time we made it to Good Morning – arguably the band’s juiciest power pop number – the mix was spot on and what proceeded was a trip back in time that illuminated the sustaining relevance of these ’90s survivors.
Frontman Tim Rogers is rarely in what you’d describe as a good mood, but he tends to perform at peak potency when he appears to have an axe to grind. This was certainly the case tonight.
There were frequent exhortations that these were “dance songs”, so we’d better “fucking dance.” Then there were more pointed assaults – singling out a moderate heckler and suggesting he’d spend the following day trying to insert a gherkin up his backside in search of the “male G-spot”; dismissing ’90s nostalgia as longing for a time before “you got fat and had babies”; well timed references to Brexit and the “newly racist Britain”; and a slightly uncomfortable farce in which Rogers repeatedly told the “hard working” guitar tech he was fired.
But as amusing as the intervals of caustic banter were, it was the band members’ musical intensity that made this show an exceptional rock’n’roll display.
It seems strange to speak of a greatest hits set from a band that’s never really had a hit, but the diehard YAI-philes were abundantly rewarded. Along with a half dozen tracks from 1995’s Hi Fi Way, we heard canonical singles like Berlin Chair and Rumble, ‘00s-era tracks Gunslingers and Givin’ Up and Getting’ Fat, plus a cover of The Undertones’ Teenage Kicks featuring Kat Spazzy on vocals.
Not for one minute did it seem like the band felt obliged to play these songs. Rather, they embraced their role as entertainers and fulfilled it with sweat sodden urgency.
It was 90 minutes of bristling guitars, harmonised vocals and cuss words, backed up by one of contemporary rock’n’roll’s most identifiable rhythm sections. The expat heavy crowd were vocal in their approval, and occasionally quite physical. Sure, perhaps we didn’t get involved to the extent Rogers would’ve liked, but you get the impression that’ll just make him work harder next time.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
LOVED: Banter, tunes, mix, venue.
HATED: No money to fly to the next gig in Berlin.
DRANK: Red stripe.
