Tim Rogers + Fairy Light
The Annandale, Sydney

Such a shame that arguably one of Australia’s greatest songwriters, a man of three bands (if you’ll count the Twin Set as a separate band, rather than just backing), one solo act, a duo, 13 LPs and countless EPs (in that it’s possible to count them but I just can’t be arsed) and a plethora of incredible songs (paeans, odes, laments, triumphs) must still do gigs to pay his rent, as was the case with this “benefit for [his] landlord”. The man should be a fucken millionaire.

Fairy Light was an interesting choice to open A Tim Rogers Gig. Certainly skilled musicians in terms of technique, they appeared to have one alright song, which sadly was repeated under different names for an entire set, while nobody moved from their opening positions. Lead singer Liz Dooley provided paradoxically strong/delicate vocals to the always congruent music, but relied too heavily on Cranberries-esque affectations in what was an otherwise lovely voice. It’s unfortunate: so boring they wore the stage down to another tectonic layer. Honestly. Literally. You should have seen it.

Looking very Lughnasa in moustache and peak cap, on a stage entirely empty save lit candles and a bottle of wine, Rogers entered without a word into a rather beautiful new song, which may be entitled something like ‘I Can Never See You In The Light’; one which hopefully will be on the new album, announced as being finished a week previously.

It’s true, as a friend noted, that Rogers plays better guitar when Davey Lane isn’t around, but playing only acoustic guitar on full-band songs, as he did with many, such as ‘Berlin Chair’ (introduced with “ … then I thought, fuck it, I’m Tim Rogers!”), ‘Who Takes Who Home’, and ‘When Yer Sad’ can occasionally leave something lacking. There was an intimacy to this show, however, and an importance in these songs for the devoted, sold-out audience, which overrode such feelings.

Rogers can be comical or maudlin with only a second between – discussion of World Youth Day pilgrims’ puffy orange vests, then remembrance of Jackie Orzacsky. ‘Paragon Café’ left its usual shiver down the spine and dewy eyes, as almost did ‘Hate This City’, Dinosaurs’, and ‘You Should See Her Now’, while ‘Kick A Hole In The Sky’, his rendition of The Scissor Sisters’ ‘I Don’t Feel Like Dancing’ and the usual banter (has anyone reading this made a will?) shone a spotlight on the tongue forever in his cheek.

Fuck it, he’s Tim Rogers.

by A.H. Cayley