You Am I, The Drones
Governor Hindmarsh
Fri 14 July



Although drummer Mike Noga's solo record, 'Folk Songs', is certainly a highlight of my CD collection, I'm not sure I would be a fan of The Drones. This time around, however, I didn't get the chance to find out. Being right up the front, I was able to witness exactly what happened, and I think it best just to give a full account.

Firstly, frontman Gareth Liddiard's Big Muff decided that it would only operate if perfectly balanced in one specific place on the stage. Being a pedal designed for stomping, this was not a desired outcome, causing Liddiard to stop playing entirely before the end of the first song. Having temporarily solved this problem, Liddiard proceeded to song number two, only to break a string - and decided to restring his guitar, on-stage, mid-song. It was halfway through song number four that the precocious Big Muff retired to complete silence. Swapping it for someone else's MXR pedal - a poor substitute in the circumstances - Liddiard decided to put a complete end to competency, offering us instead an awkward solo song, then rejoining the band to sprawl across the floor, turning the knobs on his small collection of distortion and delay pedals to produce as much white noise as possible. Tiring of this charade, guitarist Rui Perera thought it better to just swing his Fender Telecaster around like a javelin, while Liddiard repeatedly punched the microphone just to create deafening feedback. At some point, Noga and bass player Fiona Kitschin walked off the stage, and left them to it. Once that was done, the path was clear for You Am I.

With the exception of guitarist Davey Lane, otherwise known as the young lead singer of The Pictures, You Am I now exude a strong scent of near-middle-age rock 'n' roll enthusiasm, epitomised by Rogers' drunken-bar-brawling, womanising character. This is, of course, just for show. But it's not really the show I came to see.

Still, You Am I have been responsible for some of the greatest Australian pop songs, and several of these were in fine form. An 'Hourly, Daily' medley of Good Mornin' and Mr Milk was much appreciated, as was the 'Hi-Fi Way' heavy period of Jewels And Bullets, How Much Is Enough? and Cathy's Clown. And although Rogers hardly offers the awkward teenage persona he captured so perfectly in 1994, Berlin Chair still feels as honest and powerful as it did when I was a mere preadolescent.

Oh, and a word for the wise - don't call out for Heavy Heart, lest you desire Rogers' disdainful wrath (walking out before the band had even finished playing). You Am I are clearly stalwarts of the Australian rock scene, and they (mostly) enjoy what they do. But I must say I did get a little tired of the penetrating force of rock 'n' roll, after a while.

Ben Revi