You Am I

You Am I

Dearest Aubrey,

Sorry it’s been so long since my last communiqué, believe me I’ve been stupendously busy since I took the Aero-Boat to the Colonies. However such travail has been worth it for I have learnt much to contribute to my newest thesis, “A Field Guide to the Folk Musics in The Rock and Roll Idiom of Urban Australia”, a sprawling dissertation tempered by the lucubration I’m so renowned for, it’s proving to be a most fantastic work if I may be so bold.

I’ve managed to ingratiate my self with the natives, a rag tag coterie of boutique ragamuffins and callow youths noisily strumming electrified instruments in time to drumset rhythms. I’ve been to their subterranean nightspots and participated in various colloquium with the inhabitants. In my discussions I’ve come across a phrase that at first, I thought was being uttered as some kind of expression of an ultimate spiritual unity; YOU AM I.

It turns out that this is actually the name of a revered grouping of men playing amplified music in the rock and roll style. This group is seemingly decades old and tales were told of a band that have existed as a unique entity outside of mainstream acceptance, yet still managed to forge a successful career with the sturm und drang of their live performance, a songwriter with a propensity for lyrical and melodic ingenuity and a series of recordings that have always sounded like a band trying to do what they want to do. Wise folk espoused that whilst their numerous record-albums may hit the music-charts you can tell this is not what drives them. It seemed prudent of me to discover more about this group as their influence on their peers and antecedents seemed deep and profound.

So it was with great excitement that I discovered, my dear Aubrey, that these fellows were not only still a very active part of the music scene but were actually recording their new album at an undisclosed location. Using the miracle of telephony I managed to secure a letter of introduction from a Mr. Perkins and upon my proffering of said missive to an anonymous third party, mysterious doors opened and suddenly after a journey to the town of Sydney and some secret manoeuvres I found myself deep in the inner circle of YOU AM I.

What enlightening tales I have for you Aubrey! To find one’s self so deeply ensconced within the group dynamic of rocknroll is truly tremendous, I was impressed by their desire to NOT be perfect but to seek a higher path beyond the mere mathmatics of modern recording. Between the four of them they create an alchemical equation that is rarely equalled and whilst they are a group they remain four very individual characters.

Front and centre is a rakish dandy by the name of Timothy Adrian Rogers, a charming mix of Left Banke Boulevardier and North Melbourne Dock Worker. His poetry is first rate, his singing pure and his ability with the electrified and acoustiche guitar phenomenal. Given to barrelhouse surrealism and blessed with the ability to make words sing, this charming, self deprecating fellow is a cultural bon vivant who’s quite happy to dine from the fine china of Artaud whilst supping from the plastic beaker of Master E. Van Halen.

Like all who remain dilettantes in this age of diminishing returns, he sees no problem in this and on the international touring circuit is a cultural attaché par excellence.

Whilst Rogers is in one sense a bandleader in the mould of Louis Jordan or the great Jelly Roll, his fellow band members are all kindred spirits and equals in this musical cabal. None of these chaps were subjected to the ignominy of “auditions”, they merely somehow became members of You Am I, like finding yourself as an integrant of a secret organization you never knew existed until you are suddenly deeply involved.

Manning a tonne of bass amplifications is Andrew Charles Kent, an almost stoic figure who hides the soul of a saint behind his furrowed brow. He is known for the ebb, flow, bump and grind of his excellent bass playing but his unique ability to add subtle melody and nuance to the song with just four strings and a lot of taste means that he is unparalleled in his art. He also brings a wealth of sonic vision to the recording process, always listening and studying what’s coming out of the speakers. He has a reputation for being reserved but in the warm glow of the group process he can be as ebullient as any one else in the clan. He’s keen on his weekly game of association football with the local footballing club, has a diverse musical palate that takes in the work of both Mingus and Oliveri and is the most excellent host of the Inner West Gentlemen’s League.

Striding between twin glittering drumsets in the centre of the recording facility is Russell Keith Hopkinson a man on a constant adventure in the valleys between the twin drumming peaks of Hal Blaine and Chuck Biscuits. This sturdy chap with a beatle-wig haircut and a chip toothed grin sits in the group’s pocket with a flamboyant backbeat style, seemingly knowing intuitively when to flare up with a whirl of drumsticks and a flurry of tom toms. Happy to regale his fellows with boisterous anecdotes from his dubious past, he is fond of his friends’ laughter. Hopkinson considers himself a student of Nuggets era 45s, an Old English Sheepdog Enthusiast and keen admirer of a combination of Sancerre and Buche Blanc.

David Daniel Lane is a Chelsea booted beau brummel grounded by a heart of pure gold with a smile that leads to swoons from not only the ladies but the chaps as well. He displays his tremendous talents at the guitar and keys with a sense of humility and is always his own worst critic. Watching the various studio underlings’ eyes light up as he peels off a succession of peerless riffs and solos is a sight to behold. As one breathless chap said to me as he re-entered the studio bearing the group’s libations, “That guy can really play”. Some say he’s the youngest in the group though anyone who’s been around these folk know that age is irrelevant in You Am I. Lane is a keen musicologist; he can perform important works by the likes of May and Barrett effortlessly, in his home kitchen he becomes a culinary adventurer, he harbours dreams of Pug Ownership and remains the quintessential renaissance man.

This new album’s title is “Dilettantes” and if their last album “Convicts” came across like a sweaty kneetrembler in a Soho Nightspot that revealed itself to be a far more considerate lover than first expected, then “Dilettantes” seems like an entire romance played out over twelve songs. Rich with romantic imagery and flush with deeply textured musical accompaniment, this is an album that comes from deep within Rogers and is lovingly complemented by his colleagues. Never giving themselves time to second guess or dwell, they record and rehearse with minimum fuss and time. Recording sessions fit snugly in between a myriad of conflicting schedules and the day to day living of life, but when they can find time for their paths to cross, they become the core of something greater, four Dilettantes who live in a world of their own making called You Am I.

In my travels, my dear Aubrey, it is rare to find a group that can sum up what is great and good about this thing that some call rock and roll. To hear a group that can so easily slip from the terse Big Wheel to the majestic Piano In The Tree, from sparse metronome beat on Not As Tough to scruffy glam rock on Wankers is a joy to behold but to see it done with such a sense of camaraderie makes it all the more marvellous. I raise my glass to these dilettantes Aubrey, long may they and their devotees enjoy their work.

Anyway my dear, it is late and the laudanum is taking effect so I bid farewell, I will send my finished thesis by wire soon, as I said it’s a work of great import. But also I implore you to seek out this You Am I groups’ new disc, Dilettantes, when it becomes available. I think you’ll find it a most intriguing and beguiling set of songs and as you can see I’ve become quite taken with these handsome rogues.

But for now my pillow is calling me to the gentle embrace of sleep, so good night!

I remain,

Yours

J. Arthur Oswald Esq.
Musicologist. Dilettante.