‘The endless cycle of maintenance’: Tim Rogers’ sporting life
After a deeply personal confession about his drinking made headlines, the You Am I frontman reveals his relationship with booze now, taking up team sport in his 40s and ‘outrunning the black dog.’
Tim Rogers, 55, is the frontman of chart-topping rock band You Am I, among other musical outlets, including writing and performing with The Hard-Ons, The Twin Set and The Ferguson Rogers Process. He talks to The Australian about attempting to stay healthy while on tour, his love of team sports, being bombarded by advertisements from the wellness industry, and why he’s capable of wearing both suits and stubbies on stage.
What have you learned about staying fit while touring, Tim?
I read an interview recently with the pop act Lime Cordiale, who I actually haven’t seen yet; I’m looking forward to seeing them. Their tips for touring seemed to be about ice baths and eating well, and my first reaction was to scoff, because I’m a bit of an idiot: “Oh, if this is the modern way to tour, then I don’t want any part of it, because it just isn’t the way I grew up.” However, I don’t think it’s particularly bad advice, and if you have access to those kind of health opportunities, then absolutely grab them.
I’d always thought that if a band like that had access to good food and exercise, then good on them; they’ll outlive hacks like me. But then, when you tour the way that I mostly do – whether it’s with You Am I, The Hard-Ons, The Twin Set or The Bamboos – we just don’t have access to what I thought (was) touring healthily. But then on tour in Europe and Japan, particularly with the Hard-Ons, our guitarist Blackie (aka Peter Black) would find gyms, and he’d always eat well. He’s a personal trainer for his day job, and so he found a way of doing it. It just takes an extra level of industriousness, or ingenuity.
It seems that there are opportunities to tour healthily these days. I remember the shock of finding a restaurant that sold vegetables in England in 1999 and thinking, “Oh, everything’s changed.” Because previous to that, you just existed on beer and whatever drugs were around, and you waited to eat when you got home, or you got to Spain or France. I just didn’t know any better. But for this upcoming You Am I tour, I’d like every show to be great, because who knows when it’s your last tour or show? I’d like for them to be good ones; I think I’ve done enough bad ones in my time.
In terms of exercise, what are you fond of?
Playing sport is a big one. I didn’t play at any level for decades, because I just wasn’t at home. It was only in my 40s that I started playing Australian rules football again, and playing cricket socially in St Kilda with a bunch of men and women. I grew up with both. Sport obsessed? No, I just really like playing. I moved around a lot as a kid, which meant I had to introduce myself a lot, and I also had to prove myself on the ground to be a good team person, apart from anything else. I was never a fantastic sports person, but I tried to be a good team player.
Then at 52, when I moved out here (near Castlemaine, Victoria), the tipping point – apart from anything else – was that the cricket oval is a kilometre from us, and the cricket club seemed to have a good infrastructure, in that they had a pitch (smiles). I went and introduced myself, and most of these fellas have been playing with each other for decades, so I’m the new guy. And similarly, with the Woodend Masters Football Club – which I may not be able to play with this year, because if I break a finger I’m stuffed, and I can’t afford to miss shows, because that means I can’t pay rent and can’t pay bills. So I train with them to a level – but cricket I can’t keep away from.
There’s a gym nearby that I go to, but I do group classes; I can’t go to a gym (by) myself and not giggle. With Davey (Lane, guitarist) from You Am I, I used to go to gyms after all-night sessions, because we thought if we sweated out whatever we put into ourselves, then we’d be right. But 99 of 100 doctors will tell you that that’s not the truth, because you’re just double-exhausting yourself.
What do you love about team sports?
The equation with being in a musical outfit, or doing theatre, is that it’s kind of learning your place. I’m definitely not one to go into a situation brashly; I don’t think I’m an “alpha” kind of person. Finding your place is important. I’ve found my place in the musical outfits that I’m with, and I’m not the leader of any of the bands I’m in. I write songs, but I won’t often lead what we’re going to do socially, or culturally. For example, in You Am I, Russ (Hopkinson, drums) or Andy (Kent, bass) will suggest something, and Davey I will tend to (follow), and we’ll bring whatever we can. I figured I write songs, and so that’s what I bring.
With a team sport, I’m never the best player in any team, and so a little bit of levity is important; to know when to shut up, because often when you join a team that you didn’t grow up with, everyone’s known each other for a lot longer and so I generally wait until someone asks me a question. I don’t come in as, “Oh yeah, I’m 13-time ARIA Award-winner Timmy Rogers – let me tell you about the time I fell over our nation’s brightest at a festival in Tasmania …” Those stories will come up, but you’ve just gotta wait (laughs).
Generally, because of the way I look, it’s sort of presupposed that you’re a bit of a tool or a show-off, because I’m all limbs and nose, and a bit of a Dickensian-looking creature. So I tend to go in pretty quietly, and then really give my best: I’ve played cricket games where all I did was field, and bowling is my one big love in the sport. But if I can go out there and field well, that’s my contribution. And when playing footy, just to dish off to other players on the forward line who have got a better position than I do; it’s not all about being the best. I just would like to know where I can best serve the team and the equation; whether it’s theatre, music or sport, it’s exactly the same.
I play basketball and touch football, and in both there’s a real satisfaction to be found in making the right pass at the right time.
If you know the sports and know the games, you know how important that stuff is – to dish off a great pass. It won’t win you any medals or make the headlines, but those who know the game will recognise what you did, and that’s important. My father was a brilliant sportsman, and he never pushed either of us boys into anything – but being a good team person was absolutely what you had to be, whether that’s doing a shout (at the pub), or making good sangas to bring for the break.
What have you learned about trying to play mind games with your sporting opponents?
One of the things I’m dreadful at is sledging; trying to get into someone’s head by rubbishing them. I’m just not good at it. And increasingly, over time – even in social situations – just going in with this edict: “you don’t know what’s going on in someone else’s day”. If someone’s having a go at you – which happens often, and definitely when I go out to bat, it’s, “Oh, grandpa; who’s the f..kin’ rock star?” And I’ll generally just turn around and go, “Well, my name’s Timothy, how are you? Can your grandpa do this?”, and try and hit a straight drive back, hopefully taking out their knees (smiles).
But, yeah, just never knowing what’s going on, and if someone’s playing angry, try and remember: they may be having a really, really tough time, and you may not get to find out what’s going on, but just always err on the side of (kindness). A couple of times in footy games – be they charity games or in competitions – someone just completely will clean me up, because I’m not very strong. The impulse is to whack ’em, to get ’em back; generally with a crafty right hook. But then, if I’m not injured, I think, “Well, get ’em in another way and just play well”. Maybe I remind them of someone that broke their heart. (laughs) They’ve got significant problems, if that’s happened to them.
Were you a big sledger earlier in your sporting life?
No, never have been. As a supporter of games I go and see – be they big games or not – I’m just not a shouter. I have been, because I used to go to games and get blotto, but I was always five minutes behind the action. If you can’t contribute anything; if you’re just shouting rubbish, just don’t. There’s so much that is divisive and inflammatory, particularly these days. It’s so disappointing to watch your team go down, and I get used to it, but you’ve just got to swallow it. Learning how to swallow disappointment, and sublimate it in some other way, is a really admirable human trait, I think. I’m definitely learning more about it. I really hate losing when playing sport; however, you’ve got to figure that out. I’m friends with some people in very high-level sport, and watching them go through it – particularly young men and women for whom it’s their profession – and watching them deal with it, surely I can handle going down to North Castlemaine Cricket Club. Again (laughs).
You’ve written recently about health matters on your album with Lance Ferguson, in a song called The Endless Cycle of Maintenance. What led you to write on all things fitness?
Well, I’m 55 and the wellness industry, and the pursuit of wellness … I don’t know where I fit in the algorithms, but I’m bombarded with men’s health issues and advertisements for supplements, pumps and all sorts of things; creams for my wrinkles, and ways to fix my silver hair. And I’m part of that: I have a level of vanity, to be sure. So it’s not a criticism of it – but when I recorded that song with Lance and John (Castle, producer), they thought that the song was about them. Both of them are incredibly fit, absolutely jacked and really handsome – and they individually came to me said, “Oh, Timmo, is that song about me?” I said, “No, it’s just, at this stage of life, you’re on this endless pursuit of keeping yourself together – and I’m part of that.” When you tour the way I have, or will, it just gets ramped up because you’re always tired, and you’re always behind the eight ball, and you’re always looking for the next this or that. It’s exhausting, and it’s maintenance: trying to stay in a way that you can still slip yourself into that perfect outfit for the stage, you know?
My favourite line in that song is, “Self-improvement stops when I’m a building pile of dust / Shaking off the clay as it spins until it busts.” Does that ring true for your attitude toward health and fitness?
Well, the big one is (that) I have a disposition towards depression, and definitely towards anxiety. I refer to it as “keeping my head above water”; a great Hunters & Collectors song, as well. But if I can keep myself to a level of vague health and fitness, I feel more capable. So it’s maintaining a level to feel capable of outrunning the black dog – or the blue mongoose, whatever it is – nipping at my heels. Inevitably, it’ll happen, that you can’t get out of the clasp of those afflictions, and that’s when you have to deal with it in a different way. But if you can feel those claws at your back, I think there’s ways of keeping ahead of it, and fitness – or keeping light – is just one way of that.
You’re one of the few frontmen in Australian rock ‘n’ roll capable of wearing both suits and stubbies on stage. Do you ever feel self-conscious?
Oh, yeah, definitely. As a kid, I had warts all over my body; lesions, until I was about 10, while living in Perth. We never quite figured it out. It got to a point where I had blisters in my eyes. I was just so ashamed. Why I mention that is that I’ve always been very self-conscious, and then acne came in … Even my grandmother said to me, “Tim, you’re not exactly ugly; you’re not handsome, but you’ve got something.” I was 13. Thanks, grandma! I love my grandma. So when people say, “Oh, you always carry on about how you can’t sing, and you’re ugly…”, it’s because I’ve been told it my whole life.
So whether it’s dressing flamboyantly, or wearing stubbies on stage occasionally, is because it goes with (Sydney punk rock band) the Hard-Ons. They don’t give a f..k; I didn’t join the Hard-Ons and Ray (Ahn, bass) sat me down and goes, “Tim, you need to wear footy shorts and stop it with the frilly shirts …” If I feel like wearing gold lame flares, then I do – and I have. But sometimes it just feels good to whack on shorts as if you’re going to play a game – which often it is, and often I need to escape the venue quickly, because there’s always three people who want to kill me because they’re big fans of the Hard-Ons, and hate me.
We’ve spoken previously about alcohol; two years ago, you said, “For someone who knows they’re a drunk, I shouldn’t drink, but I do, and that’s pretty dumb.” How’s your relationship with booze today?
Well, I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it again. I was probably drunk when I said that. But I don’t know; it’s a tricky bugger. Some people who I talk to will say, “I can’t stop – I need to drink the whole bottle of wine.” They’re convinced that they have a problem – and if they feel that, then they do. But I think, “A bottle of wine? F..k, most days I have a bottle of wine before I get out of bed.”
Each person has their own level, and it’s just a thing that you will live with your whole life, you know? I haven’t had a drink today, yet, and I probably won’t tonight. I want to do the next You Am I tour with a pretty sound mind and body, but it’s just too much to think about at the moment. I’m glad I’m busy today; I’m a carer for some clients, and I’ve got to get them around town.
It’s a bastard, you know? Whether it’s myself or friends who’ve gone, “I just didn’t see it coming” – but suddenly, everything that you do is about when you can finally relax and just drink. That’s a drag. It becomes less frivolous. I never drank to be social; it was always just the thing I did by myself. It helped me in social situations, but I couldn’t wait to get out of social situations, so I could be by myself and find a bar, or be in the hotel. So I’m not exactly sure – but it’s good today, so I’ll take that.
You Am I’s 10-date Hi Fi Daily Double Down tour begins in Canberra (April 3) and ends in Newcastle (May 9). Tickets: youami.com.au
More Coverage
To join the conversation, please log in. Don't have an account? Register
Join the conversation, you are commenting as Logout