Saturday 01/11/08 You Am I, Tame Impala @ The Governor Hindmarsh, Adelaide

Even if you left aside the small matter of the three-piece guitar, bass and drums line-up, it would be impossible to escape the similarity. There’s less blues in the mix, but Tame Impala are clearly exploring the territory first staked out by the British psychedelic bands of the sixties, and especially Cream. But there’s one major proviso: in comparison, Tame Impala make Eric Clapton’s old gang sound like skimmed milk. They’re more primitive and more rooted, with fewer flights of fancy and a stronger focus on the underlying rhythms. And they’re very, very good.

Despite the similarities in their material, it doesn’t feel as if Tame Impala are merely copying Cream or anyone else. Instead, the impression they give is that this is music they love, rather than something they’re trying to steal for the sake of a quick buck or because they don’t have any ideas of their own, and there are suggestions of some decent song writing. More adventure would be welcome, but even without it Tame Impala are one of those bands that deserves the generous word of mouth and plentiful tour slots they’re already getting. Their set tonight is over far too soon, and it’s always a pleasure to say that of a support band. Let’s hope they don’t curdle.

You Am I have some roots in the sixties too, but as Tim Rogers’ splendiferous jacket suggests, they’re a little closer to mod than psychedelia. There’s a hint of punk thrown in, and those two references, though they don’t give you the whole story, tell you much of what you need to know about You Am I’s music: it’s guitar-driven rock, based around some cracking songs and intelligent lyrics.

Without claiming to know all of the ways and byways of You Am I’s recording career, it seems that their latest album, Dilettantes, is about as good as anything they’ve done. Less immediate than much of their earlier material, perhaps, but at least as rewarding and probably more so. Yet You Am I’s reputation rests most heavily on their live show. Though Andy Kent has problems throughout with his bass amp, the band are tight, well drilled and creative. The heavy lifting falls to Rogers, however, and he’s an excellent front man. His between-song patter distracts from the technical problems, but the real strength of his act is the amount of energy he puts into it, along with the fact that he so obviously understands that it’s a performance. Rogers is aware enough to be able to perform to his limits while gauging the audience and the reaction he’s getting.

With thirteen albums to his credit (eight of those with You Am I, the rest in various side projects), Rogers has clearly learned a thing or two about how to satisfy an audience and himself. Tonight, as expected, the set is heavily biased towards Dilettantes. Its first four songs are played in order, and ten of the twelve eventually get an airing. The reaction is muted at first, but builds as the older material comes in during a show that’s only just short of two hours. Heavy Heart, probably their best known song, gets a rather grudging introduction, in which Rogers essentially notes that he’s giving up fighting on this one and realises that it belongs to the audience. Whatever his reservations, the performance is strong.

The two covers are intriguing. A decent rendition of There She Goes by The La’s has even some of the youngest members of the audience singing along, while You Am I’s take on Pink Floyd’s Astronomy Domine is one of the most interesting parts of the evening, not least because it’s so different to their own material.

It’s been a good gig, with a great response, and though it seemed the night would finish with the last track from Dilettantes, there’s a special reward for the enthusiasm the crowd has displayed. Earlier on there was some sarky off-mike muttering from Rogers after the inevitable requests for Berlin Chair, one of their earliest singles, so it’s something of a surprise when it’s wheeled out right at the end. A swathe of the hyped-up audience manages to go wilder still in grateful acknowledgment. Despite being such a crowd pleaser, Berlin Chair only serves to underline the contradictions that have always been there in You Am I and their material. It’s a love song, of sorts, but only fully makes sense if you know about a particular piece of architect-designed furniture from the 1920s. Such are the complexities of Tim Rogers and his band.

You Am I in Adelaide: