Tim Rogers, the charismatic frontman of the much-loved Australian rock outfit You Am I, has carved out a career that’s as varied as it is enduring. Beyond his legendary band, Rogers has established himself as a critically acclaimed solo artist, a published writer, an actor, and a familiar voice on both radio and television. His significant contributions to Australian music were further cemented when he was inducted into the ARIA Hall of Fame last year. With decades navigating the public sphere, Rogers has experienced virtually every facet of media engagement. Recently, he sat down with Zan Rowe for an episode of Take 5, a program that delves into the songs that shape artists’ lives. For this particular session, Rogers chose tracks that resonated with the theme of “living,” offering a rich tapestry of reflections on his musical journey and showcasing the breadth of his artistic palate and his thoughtful consideration of the world.
The Hustle: Making a Living in the Music Industry
As the final, searing notes of Magic Dirt’s 1994 anthem “Ice” fade out, Zan Rowe turns to Rogers, seeking his perspective on the contemporary landscape of earning a crust as a musician. The economic realities of the music industry have undergone a seismic shift since the heyday of bands like You Am I and Magic Dirt. For today’s artists, navigating a sustainable career is a far more intricate challenge.
“Everyone’s got this dog barking,” Rogers explains, referencing the persistent need for financial stability. “You need to pay rent and the electricity bills.”
Beyond the immediate cashflow concerns, there’s a deeper structural inequity that artists in non-traditional industries, such as music, are forced to confront.
“Adalita [Srsen, Magic Dirt’s frontwoman] and I were talking about real estate stuff, about just trying to get a loan,” Rogers recounts. “The question will inevitably come up, ‘What do you do?’ You say, ‘We’re artists,’ and you just get laughed out of the building.”
This systemic dismissal often leads musicians to undertake performances they might not otherwise choose. “So, we all do performances that we wouldn’t necessarily want to do,” he admits. “Doing the tribute shows, which I’m very glad to do, there’s a little bit of a mercenary element about it.”
These tribute shows have become an increasingly common strategy for musicians from earlier eras to secure income in an industry that, Rogers observes, often prioritises novelty, only to discard it once the next fresh face emerges. Rogers himself has participated in these ventures, touring with Adalita, Tex Perkins, and Phil Jamieson (Grinspoon) to perform The Rolling Stones’ catalogue, and with Josh Pyke and Chris Cheney (The Living End) for The Beatles.
While playing covers might not have been the initial driving force behind their musical aspirations, Rogers acknowledges their value as a means to stay financially afloat during leaner periods. The crucial takeaway, he notes, is recognising that the remuneration is almost as significant as the performance itself.
“If I get asked to sing Rolling Stones songs or whoever the artist is, The Beatles or whatever, I think, ‘Well, I love those songs. This is easy’,” he says. “Tex and I, if we get asked, ‘Hey, will you sing 20 Stones songs?’ I go, ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah.’ They say, ‘Can we tell you about what you’re going to get for a performance?’ It doesn’t matter. I mean, this is just what we do. We kind of do it every day anyway. But you have to factor it in. ‘Oh my God, that means I can maybe spend a couple of weeks writing and not going back to mowing lawns for a while’.”
The Enduring Legacy of “Hourly, Daily”
While Take 5 is dedicated to exploring the musical influences of others, Zan Rowe couldn’t resist delving into You Am I’s seminal third album, the beloved Australian classic “Hourly, Daily,” which marks its 30th anniversary this year. Rogers attributes his immersion in the power-pop sound that would shape the album to drummer Rusty Hopkinson and Hoodoo Gurus guitarist Brad Shepherd. He also points to the influence of his peers who were exploring similar sonic territories.
“There was great pop music coming out at the time, you know, bands like Swervedriver and Teenage Fanclub, where they had power, but they also had pop smarts,” Rogers recalls. “I just would hear that and go, ‘Oh, I want that.’ Thankfully, Andy [Kent, bassist] and Russ [Hopkinson] went, ‘Yeah, we’ll go with that. But can we freak out at the end of every song and finish with a big calamitous things falling over?’ ‘Sure’.”
He acknowledges that this approach wasn’t necessarily the prevailing style of the era, but it was the direction the band was leaning towards, inspired by a blend of pop and power pop.
The album’s depiction of suburban life is remarkably vivid and visceral, capturing the essence of everyday occurrences: neighbours’ coughs, taxi drivers’ advice, the familiar sights of chip shops and milk bars, and the intricate human dramas unfolding beyond the perfectly manicured lawns.
“It’s a pretty strange record,” Rogers muses. “We did 200-and-something shows the year that we wrote that record, and I was missing home. I guess I just needed something to keep my fragile little noggin together where we were doing these endless tours of the States. So, it was Patrick White books and Gerard Manley Hopkins poetry and definitely Kinks records.”
Rogers’s reality on the road was a stark contrast to the quiet suburban scenes he was writing about. The act of writing, it seems, provided a sanctuary, a place of calm amidst the relentless touring schedule.
“I refer to it as our ‘Sullivans’ record,” he says, referencing the classic Australian television drama. “It’s all about tea and toast, when really it was kind of party drugs and hard alcohol. But where I went to for my own peace of mind was the ‘Sullivans’ aspect of Australian living. It was just where I went to when I was in a hotel in St Petersburg, Florida, desperately wanting some peace.”
The Unconditional Love of Parenthood
The arrival of children can profoundly alter a person’s priorities and their entire worldview. Rogers’s daughter, Ruby Rogers-Garcia, has also embarked on her own musical path, releasing her debut album last year with her band, Ruby and the Clumsy Dollies.
Tim Rogers performing as the bassist in his daughter Ruby’s band.
“She came out to Australia for the Hall of Fame time and doing her own shows,” Rogers shares. “I was the bass player in her band, and it was terrifying. I love those songs so much.”
As he plays the final track of his Take 5 selection, Martha Wainwright’s rendition of Linda Thompson’s “Or Nothing At All,” Rogers reflects on his evolving understanding of unconditional parental love. He’s come to realise that there’s no singular “right” way to live when one is fundamentally happy and safe.
“One night we probably had a couple of shandies, and Ruby extrapolated upon, you know, ‘What do you want from me?’ And I thought… ‘Absolutely nothing, just your existence’,” he reveals.
He recalls a conversation with his own mother when he was a child, prone to misbehaviour and lacking clear direction. “She said to me one time, ‘I actually just want you to be happy’.”
Rogers admits to having been influenced by the weighty expectations often found in late-19th-century Russian literature, where immense pressure is placed on children to achieve respectability.
“Ruby just happens to be brilliant, but I just want her to be happy, you know? She could be all these things or nothing at all.”
Tim Rogers is set to play a series of shows in Canberra, Newcastle, Sydney, and Milton throughout April. You can catch his Take 5 selections anytime on ABC Listen.
