Detours

by Tim Rogers

Tim Rogers - the front man and singer of hugely popular rock n'roll band You Am I - is a shambolic, flamboyant and dapper Aussie flâneur - a seeker after truth, love and understanding. He's a contradiction: a hard drinking rock star with the soul of a poet; a wordsmith and a raconteur, a romantic and a realist, a bon vivant op-shop-dressed dandy. He's the wild man of Australian rock n' roll, a man who loves footy, who was brought up in the wild emptiness of Kalgoorlie, but he's now an urban hipster - a legend of Australian rock music, more at home in St Kilda than the bush.

In this offbeat and immensely charming literary memoir, Tim Rogers talks about what it is to be a man, about accepting who you are, about masculinity, love, drinking, footy, his father, being a dad, anxiety, and above all, his continuing, magical, ever-present muse - music.

It is by turns revealing, warm, self-deprecating, intimate, shocking, confessional, sharp, funny and immensely engaging.

Genres: Music, Nonfiction, Biography, Memoir, Autobiography, Australia

338 pages, Hardcover

Published August 21, 2017

About the author

Tim Rogers is an Australian musician, actor and writer, best known as the frontman of rock band You Am I.

Reviews

[Luke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Five stars. I suppose it's unlikely I would have rated any other way, really, given how much of my early adulthood was soundtracked by the guy. See, for nerdy dorks of my age and type, Tim Rogers' work is pretty important. I've written about that here if you'd fancy further solipsism - but suffice it to say You Am I were (and are) a band that made you feel like you could give it a go, and that there was stuff and a place out there for you, too.

Yeah, there are big rock moves, and big rock appetites. But then behind it all was someone who wrote songs about OCD, who felt an impostor, and who used Townshend windmills to blur reality, just a bit.

What Tim's produced here is a wordy, worthy work that, while it does have enough rock to be going on with, focuses more on the introspective, ritual, sad side of things. There's enough books on blow and blowjobs, and while at least one of those features here, Rogers is smart enough to know that there's no point trying to rewrite Hammer of the Gods or The Dirt. Instead, we have this: a flâneur's fiddlings; a ragamuffin's recitations. Suitable, given his sartorial choices.

With fedoras worn at rakish angles and jewellery a must, I looked like an oafish Quentin Crisp.

Detours appeals precisely because of its reluctance to be a 'proper' bio. As the title suggests, this is a collection of wanderings: through cities, through memory, through perspective. There's a couple of chapters headed BAGATELLES which offer snippets of anecdotes, sort of amuses-bouche featuring Don Walker and nobodies. They're like a Whitman's Sampler of experience, something that makes sense when you consider the bower-bird of the author's tastes.

Here, you won't get a dry list of recording dates, you won't get studio banter. But you will get a portrait that augurs with the one you may have gleaned from some songs you've most likely heard.

(Would someone unfamiliar with the guy's output read this book? I wonder.)

It's strange: the book feels a lot more personal than other autobiographies I've read. Almost too much so, in some places - we're given a view of stuff that's obviously painful, and I wonder how much of the book was written as a way to lock away, to cage events and habits that've loomed in his life. It's pretty brave writing: it would undoubtedly be easier to bang out a memoir about rockin' every fuckin' night. (I mean hell, we know Gene Simmons isn't going to be giving out any free rides to the Town of Introspection any time soon.) But here we are. After all,

I realised that years of impropriety have left me as open as a newspaper on the street in the rain. There is no point in trying to hide my foibles or fuck-ups, as they’ve given me so much source material for songs.

The drug and alcohol stuff is brutally honest - deciding to tell the great unwashed about the time you picked up your kid fucked out of your head has to be difficult - but it's stuff like this that hits hard. The consumption's not played up as Rainbow Room hi-jinks, which is kind of the point, I guess: Tim's just trying to get through this shit, like all of us. And sometimes it's hard to read, but the sense is - even when hogtied by bald-faced fear - that the author's continuing onwards and upwards. And fuck, as a sidelines observer for decades, that's deep-down good to hear.

There's a lot of love in this book, a necessary opponent to the self-loathing and anxiety that swims in the sclera of the thing. His partner, The Hurricane, sounds a necessary, irresistible tonic. The man's desire to be a good dad is palpable, the fuel that runs him, and his regard and love for bandmates past and present - both Box the Jesuit's Goose and current brother-in-arms Davey Lane receive effusive praise - is on ready display. When he's writing about someone he loves, Rogers is at his most disarming: there's no artifice, just a desire to communicate how fuckin' great he thinks these people are.

The other big love that guides a lot of the writing here is sport. Memories of Kalgoorlie kicks, reminders of the importance of the tennis ball and the scoop bat, descriptions of a rag-tag assemblage of blokes with fucked knees giving it a go for the sheer release, or of the nerve-soothing salve that is cricket commentary - they're discussed at length. I'm not a sporty kind of guy, either in traditional or Graney modes, but I enjoyed it in a manner similar to hearing Murakami talk about running.

It's definitely interesting to have read this after Tex Perkins' autobiography, as the two authors have a very different approach. Tex's book is self-aware, true, but there's always a sense of confidence, of ability there. Detours is testament to the fact that behind the appearance of success there can be the Child Catcher-like figure of self-doubt, of self-loathing, of ritualised behaviour designed to tamp down the anxiety of just existing. Both Perkins and Rogers are loved artists, and great storytellers - but I reckon more schlubs like me feel the drivers of Detours than they do the assuredness of Tex.

Enough rambling. If you've ever liked You Am I, or Rogers' other work, this is the book for you. I fuckin' loved it. It was as loud and effete and brash and sad and beautiful as I'd hoped.

(And was quietly relieved he didn't mention that dick that kept turning up to shows and calling out for them to play 'Shame' in 94-97. Sorry 'bout that, Tim.)

GBTFLOU, folks.

(Some ephemera which will aid the reader with this work: there is a lengthy, lovely discussion between Tim and writer Andrew McMillen available at McMillen's Penmanship Podcast, and some beaut photographs of his apartment available here. Both are worth a gander.)

[Deki Napolju · Rating 4 out of 5]

My lord, what a thing of beauty this is.

[Brendan Brooks · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked this up expecting entertaining anecdotes of debauched rock n roll life.

Instead I found an artist.

[Tonile Reads 📚 · Rating 4 out of 5]

One of the most beautifully-written memoirs I've ever read. Chapters three and four are highlights for me.

[Cherry Bob*omb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Like the author himself, this is an interesting little beast of a book. I filled it with highlights and bookmarks which will sadly disappear as the library ebook self destructs tomorrow- which is almost a fitting epitaph.
Timmy is a poet. He has a way with words and a way with music and a way with style that inspired a bunch of 14 year olds girls enough to imitate his old man op shop chic in the 90s. Parts of this book, I just internally sighed in joy, like a warm cup of tea on a busy winter day.
Parts of it I was crazy bored and skimmed.
Parts of it I just felt really sad, not because old Timmy has expressed his malaise so well, but because despite the whole book being nothing but introspective, it's also far from insightful. There's no doubt the fella is a pretty much a functioning alcoholic, but according to him he's not depressed, though he bloody well is depressed because its impossible to drink that much and not be depressed. Dude just has a romantic notion of depression, rather than a deep understanding of his own issues. There are also whiffs of Asperger's- the food obsession alone could have been written about my 6 year old autistic son. He's clearly functioning, creating amazing art, but his life seems half-lived, filled with anxiety as it is, which filled the reading experience with melancholy.

[Stuart · Rating 5 out of 5]

Tim Rogers' book is a fascinating insight into a unique and enigmatic mainstay on the Australian music scene. I took a passing interest in his music with You Am I as a teenager growing up in the '90s but it was his performances and 'anything goes' approach to style that drew my attention most.

Through his writing, Tim presents a gentle but fascinating observation of the human condition which plays out as he recollects stories and his struggles with anxiety that transcends the typical biographical form. Tim seamlessly mixes abject melancholy with humour and affection.

My favourite book of 2017.

[Lauren Deville · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is way too ‘sartorial’... I want to rip off the layers of vocabulary and carefully constructed sentences to find out what Rogers is really lined with.

Glad I stuck with it though. There’s some fascinating and funny moments, plus some glimmers of great insight. Smart man.

[Katherine · Rating 3 out of 5]

It's thoughtful, introspective and philosophical. But it was heavy reading for me, which is why it took me so very long to get through it. If you're a fan of You Am I though, you'll probably love it.

[Melinda Nankivell · Rating 4 out of 5]

Being a teenager in the mid-90s meant growing up at a time when Aussie rock band You Am I were at their peak. Leading them was Tim Rogers, whose memoir, Detours, was one I feel he was very brave to put out into the world.

You can tell he’s intelligent and clearly a writer, as this was one of the most entertaining memoirs I’ve ever read. Parts made me laugh, and others made me melancholy. Tim fears being a deadbeat dad yet is generous to us readers as he lays out his past wrongs and his apologies for those actions. The honesty in a celebrity memoir is at a level that is refreshing.

This is not told chronologically - chapters are instead themed
In other ways - and it meant I got a little confused in parts, but that’s just because I’m so used to linear narrative I think.

I’m not even a big You Am I fan and I loved this.

[Colin · Rating 4 out of 5]

You start what you think is a book, but which feels a lot more like you’ve found a manhole just beneath the soil while you’re gardening. You dig a little, find a rusting latch which, with a bit of force, gives way. A good heave and the hinges sing a creaking sigh and the cover reveals a black hole with a ladder descending into the darkness. Returning with a torch, anticipation and a pinch of bravado, you step from the familiar into…Tim Rogers’ head.

Took my time. Sorry. But as I was reading this book and people asked how I was finding it I kept saying, “It feels a bit like I found a trap door into Tim Rogers’ brain.”

And let me tell you, that’s not a bad thing. I can’t name a You Am I song, I’ve never seen them live and they aren’t sitting in my record collection. Actually, I did see him perform a John Prine song with Kasey Chambers at the Tamworth Country Music Awards and it was one of my most memorable Awards moments. An utterly authentic, transcendent, funny, touching performance.

And a couple of years back Tim was sitting across the aisle from me on a regional flight. We had a delightful chat and afterwards corresponded briefly about music and song. Champion fella. And he was reading “Boy Swallows Universe”. (“Ah, a reader…” I says to meself.)

Although the catalogue information in “Detours” lists it as a biography, it’s just not that simple. It’s a bio-mem-rumin-ography. There are facts, but they tend to feel a little incidental - not unimportant, but somehow passing. There are anecdotes, but they serve something more than simply spicing the tale. It’s thematic, but not theoretical. Rogers always remains rooted in the realities of his life, inner and outer.

I suppose the evidence that this book succeeds is that a reader finishes feeling like they know Tim. Not completely - even Tim doesn’t seem to know Tim entirely. But by teasing out tales and thoughts and moments we’ve managed to weave some sense of not just Tim’s life but, quite refreshingly, been invisibly enticed into sympathetically teasing out something of our own life, too.

That’s because Rogers leads from the front - he’s disarmingly honest and real about his own frailties, failures and foibles. If you pick up this book expecting the Tale of Tim Rogers - a nice steady rock star’s story arc - you’ll need to think again. The story comes together slightly randomly, a bit like a holiday jigsaw. And by the end you don’t really have a complete picture, but you have enough to get a fair idea what it is. Tim writes with humour*, insight, vulnerability and no small amount of storyteller’s relish. (I read it on an e reader and don’t think I’ve ever looked up quite so many definitions in any book I’ve read. He loves his vocab, does Tim!)

I’d say the first chapter has a really masterful arc with the story of Tim’s return to Kalgoorlie to watch the footy final with his Dad, also travelling separately to the town of Tim’s youth. It makes for a beautiful self-contained short story. I feel like sustaining that tension between arc and stream of consciousness is a tall order and few chapters really sing quite as magically as that first chapter. But it’s a very capably written, utterly enjoyable and quite unique bio-mem-rumnin-ography.

So I’d say that if all that sounds like it’s up your alley, grab your torch and climb on in to Tim Rogers’ head. There’s a lot going on in there!

*The story of Art Garfunkel’s turd was a laugh-out-loud reading moment. They’d don’t happen very often. I’ve read that passage (!) aloud to a number of greatly appreciative chums.

[Natalie S · Rating 5 out of 5]

As any self-respecting You Am I fan knows, Tim Rogers can spin a yarn or ten. What they may not realise is that this legendary songwriter, artist, and musician has also achieved this in a book format, without the need for a guitar, mic-stand or a drink. Okay, maybe he did need the latter. His debut memoir, Detours, is a fabulous and personal read that takes in so many different topics that you feel like you’re having your own personal heart-to-heart with the dapper gentleman himself.

If there are fans out there expecting a chronological, paint-by-the-numbers, telling of You Am I’s history then this is not the book for them. This volume is also not about posturing and the name-dropping of celebrities. Instead what you get is some self-deprecating anecdotes from Tim, and chapters where you’re just as likely to read about a phone conversation with his mother, and his own personal thoughts about attending a local footy match with his Dad, than you are about hearing some tales from the life of a travelling muso.

Tim Rogers was born in Kalgoorlie. He says he likes dropping this interesting fact with strangers from time-to-time; but one thing’s for certain, Rogers does not need to make himself more likeable, he’s already someone most people would love to have a beer with. As a child his family moved around a lot and he briefly touches on this and his acne-prone adolescence. These days, he has carved out a happy existence living in a small flat in St Kilda. He is a long-distance father to his teenage daughter, Ruby, and he is in a loving relationship with a woman he affectionately calls ‘The Hurricane’. The chapters where Tim describes the important women in his life are so warm and empathetic. This isn’t very rock ‘n’ roll, but it never needed to be, because Rogers is clear that he’s not some swaggering rock star 24 hours a day.

This memoir is one written by a man with many contradictions. His memories and anecdotes are nostalgic jumping around in time, space and topic. But on the flipside he craves order, particularly when he describes his grapples with anxiety and various obsessive-compulsive rituals that he regularly carries out. He can talk about the music associated with the English sixties mod scene, but he is also just as happy holding court about AFL, cricket, and other sports. To say this man is a paradox, wordsmith, and raconteur is an understatement. He is all these things and so much more.

Roger’s prose is so poetic and shiny in Detours that you’d be forgiven for thinking that he had been secretly writing books under a nom de plume for years. Rogers also pens chapters called “Bagatelles”, which contain shorter observations or asides, and these are like little gems with a thought wrapped up in a joke and finished off in technicolour. There is no fat left on the bone in this book, each paragraph is more insightful and engaging than the last and that is the true hallmark of a great storyteller and artist.

Detours is an exciting debut from an Australian artist and Renaissance man. The book is positively brimming with different things, including how to be a man, dad, brother, bandmate, lover, friend, etc. It’s so darned engaging and enjoyable that you’ll be seeking out Tim at a pub near you just so you can continue hearing his story. On that note, let us all charge our glasses to Messer Rogers and his literary finery.

[Mauro Del Citto · Rating 5 out of 5]

I need to explain from the outset that I was never much of a You Am I fan even when Triple J would be wetting themselves over Hourly Daily and Hi Fi Way in the mid 90s. I liked what they were trying to do, but they never quite grabbed me. I do love 'Purple Sneakers' though. In all of this, Tim Rogers always fascinated me in interviews as he was obviously very witty, well read and could have a view on 80s hair metal bands and make them sound interesting. He was also an intimidating figure, ready to go off at any given moment. So after reading a chapter about Tim in Tex Perkins' memoir, I was intrigued and thought I would give Timbo's story a crack. I was not disappointed.
Thankfully, Detours is not your conventional rock biography that involves a timeline of childhood, paying your dues, success, failure and redemption. The closest I could compare this book to was Bob Dylan's 'Chronicles' which is kind of freeform thoughts at particular moments in time. the difference is that nobody has described love, pain, loss, humour and anxiety quite like Tim. The writing is exquisite and every sentence is not wasted, but it is more of a series of paintings as he so visual with his written word. He can describe the longing for his daughter, the debilitating horror of anxiety, the rawness of a tribal 60s guitar and the pure joy of unloading the perfect torpedo punt with the same honesty and vulnerability. I felt every swig of vodka, every panic attack, every tear and every post show contemplation. The chapter on The Hurricane is devastatingly beautiful and will register with those who always think they are a millimetre away from fucking up a relationship.
I've put this in my top 5 of books written by musicians next to 'The Dirt' by Motley Crue, 'One Train Later' by Andy Summers and 'Late Late at Night' by Rick Springfield. I haven't figured out the other one.
Congratulations Tim. I would encourage you all to devour this book. You might feel things you had no idea about.

[Kris McCracken · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tim Rogers, frontman of You Am I, might be best known for his music, but "Detours" offers a surprisingly different side of him. As someone who enjoys Rogers' music very much, I expected a memoir steeped in riffs and rhythm. Instead, this unusual and utterly charming book feels more like sitting down for a heart-to-heart with the man himself, an unfiltered, meandering conversation about life, love, and everything in between.

Rogers' writing is, like the man, full of flair, described aptly as trailing "floaty scarves." It's lush, often poetic, but occasionally trips over its own extravagance. That said, beneath the literary flourishes is a brutal honesty. He writes candidly about anxiety, drinking and some less-fine memories. His insights into his turbulent family life and unstable childhood dig into the psychological roots of his struggles, making for a raw and cathartic memoir.

"Detours" covers a dizzying array of topics: masculinity, love, footy, drinking, his father, being a dad, and his love of making music. Surprisingly, though, there's not actually much about his music here. Songwriting is mentioned, but more as a lifeline, a way for Rogers to turn pain into art, mirroring what this memoir does so beautifully.

Sport runs throughout. With vivid memories of Kalgoorlie footy, battered blokes pushing through pain for the sheer joy of it, and the soothing drone of cricket commentary evoke a sense of nostalgia.

There is a blending of reflections on art, anxiety and identity with intimate moments from his life, fatherhood struggles, brushes with fame, and his relentless search for meaning. Rogers is achingly sincere, especially when recounting his demons and failures. There's a sense of someone coming to terms with himself, laying it all bare without pretence.

This is a deeply engaging read, equal parts mesmerising and messy. Tim Rogers has crafted something that feels intensely personal like a handwritten letter smudged with ink and tears. For fans of his music or anyone drawn to stories of resilience and reinvention, this is well worth the detour.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

[Peter O'Connor · Rating 4 out of 5]

In Detours, rather than tell a straight chronological narrative as the front man of You Am I and beyond, Tim Rogers concentrates more on his life as one who's star has now faded (the term has-been is too cruel). He still ekes out a living as a musician/actor/writer to this day but is clearly not one paved with riches. What we get then, is a humble, if not self-effacing account of his life approaching fifty. As grumpy and as cynical as anyone approaching midpoint (I'm being generous) deserves to be, he writes with a wit and heartwarming candour that would not be out of place in a public bar. He has seen a lot of those and what makes the book fresh is that it does not follow a steady path. Rather it is a series of short observational snippets about his current life and observations on a society passing him by as he clings to the lifestyle of the bohemian. Tim Rogers was always lauded as a fine lyricist so it is should come as no surprise to find this funny and introspective book easily hits its mark.

[Cody Stebbings · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fascinating. Just completely fascinating. That's how I will describe Tim Rogers as a person, along with his lifestyle.

It's shamelessly Australian, bohemian, and unique; the man knows how to soothe the soul with language and words. His mention and reference to David Sedaris had the fanboy in me jumping for joy, and his affection for ordinary events such as the hours leading up to a show, going to the footy with likeminded passionate beings, and taking note of the interesting people he meets, it's all such a warming recount of a wonderfully lived life.

You really do have to be interested in people to do shit like this, and in turn, be an interesting person yourself. Tim Rogers, thank you for this piece of work.

[Malcolm · Rating 4 out of 5]

Been sitting on my bookshelf for quite some time, was worth picking it up. Tim’s a great wordsmith and great voyeur while also sharing the good and bad of his life.

[Kirsten · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’ve always admired Rogers as a lyricist so I don’t know why I was surprised that he is also a superb memoirist.

Detours is a beautifully composed, funny, poignant journey into Rogers life. Full of unexpected depth and writing that takes your breath away.

Chapter four is one of the most perfect love letters I’ve ever read.

[Irene · Rating 5 out of 5]

Few books have been so hard to put down for me in recent times. I read this in three or four sittings, barely able to peel myself away from the pages. Tim Rogers so eloquently weaves his stories with depth, consideration and good humour. I laughed, cried and reflected. Memorable.

[Barrie Seppings · Rating 5 out of 5]

Found a lot that was familiar in this delightful, funny and slightly off-centre book: a childhood in the deserts of W.A; the quiet terrors of growing up awkward in suburban Australia; the glorious discovery of a whole world of music they didn't play on FM radio. There's no tired rock n' roll debauchery in this collection of memories and musings on a life constructed almost out of necessity but also built to accommodate no-one's ambitions except his own. Like Rogers' music, there are a lot of words packed in here, but he's at his best when he's unboxing the simple mysteries of an informal yet highly-structured collection of men who come together on a regular basis to kick a footy around. I don't chase footballs (never found the appeal), but I do want the opportunity to hang out with Rogers and The Kick. If only he'd tell us where they meet.
A gentle, intelligent read. Unexpectedly enjoyable.

[Sam Schroder · Rating 5 out of 5]

A really long time ago, in a different lifetime, late one night in a strange little bar in Newtown, the wrong man told me that romance was a lie, that love was a curse, that everything turns out bitter, any way. Nothing ordinary is romantic, and the idea that romance is extraordinary is a Hallmark con, he said. I called bullshit. And I told him that one day, when I was sitting up in bed, reading a really good book to the man I loved, I’d be living my romantic dream. And that it would be ordinary and perfect. There was a long pause. And then he said... well... yes... that sounds pretty bloody lovely.

So... I found the man... and I read him this book... and it certainly was ‘pretty bloody lovely’.

In this rambling, rambunctious, raw, revealing collection of chapters and snippets, Rogers shows us the inside of his heart, his messy head, and his ordinary, extraordinary life. We loved it. And if you love Rogers or You Am I or rock and roll, you’ll love it too.

[Harrislp · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked it, was really good with the author's narration as well, so I think it is well worth getting that version if you can. Tim is a good writer who sometimes tries to be a great writer in this book, which is fine, I don't detract stars for trying to be great. I also think that he fancied this to be a bit of a Bob Dylan style exercise in self-mythologising, which I also can't fault him for. Bob Dylan is a bit of a tiresome wanker though in my books, so take that as you will. I learnt a little about Tim in this book but I would have liked to know more, especially about his relationships to other people and the way they have shaped his writing and musical style.

I give this book three and a half stars, but I will round it up to four because you can't give half a star and I am a pretty large You Am I fan from way back so I feel like I owe it to the author to give him a bit of a boost. There is a large ocean between three and four stars after all.

[Jodie · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I held this book in my hands I wanted to gobble it up. I told my sister (who kindly gifted it to me) “they’ll be no sleep tonight!”. I wasn’t 10 pages in when my strategy changed. I wanted to read it in a park, on a train, over a coffee, over a ginger beer, at an airport and to my dog. I wanted to savor it and toss it around in my head while a snuck a cigarette late at night. I wanted this book to fill in gaps. Gaps left when the songs ended. It did this. It also told (in the many splendid stories) of a man whose flashy show pony persona, hip shaking, sharp tongue and intimidatingly large vocabulary i’ve admired from the crowd for 20 years but whom I felt had a very different life to my own. Detours chronicles the life of a man who’s trying to be true and kind and sort out what works for him as he comes to accept himself. Aren’t we all trying to do this?

[Sonia · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'll admit straight away that I am an absolute Tim Rodgers fan and so I might be biased in my opinions in particular the language of this book. Tim's ability to write songs transcends to being an amazing author which made this an enjoyable read.
I suppose my disappointment was feeling like i didn't learn too much about the man (maybe I've read, watched, listened too much of him in real life).
The randomn stories do give an insight to his simple yet layered mind and I love how there were no pompous stories. More about the music would have been great but still an interesting read from a talented man

[Steve Roberts · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'd definitely have a beer, or red, with Tim but perhaps I'd need an escape plan after a while. He seems like a good bloke and would have a ton a great stories, although some of them might get dragged out a bit. I love his enthusiasm for footy & cricket, perhaps that would be a better place to hang out instead of a bar as the conversation would focus on the game. Tim's a great entertainer, underrated, and he's still got a few songs in him. It was nice to meet you Tim. Your flamboyant chatter overwhelmed me at times, and I'm not into retro clothing, however I like your attitude and acceptance of life. Don't let it get you down, you're very talented, kind and thoughtful.

[sickbobby · Rating 4 out of 5]

Some call Tim Rogers a poet, others call him a yobbo. But most call him Uncle Tim and with Detours the name is very fitting: like everyone’s favourite uncle he regales us with stories of life, love, and footy (not in that order). His is the life of a musician, a lover, a raconteur, and a flaneur. But it is a life that has taken a detour or ten, some stumbles more painful than others, to get him here with these wonderful stories. Dress yourself slowly, have your favourite beer, and enjoy Uncle Timmy’s stories.

[Darren Goossens · Rating 4 out of 5]

Review from https://darrengoossens.wordpress.com/2018/11/16/detours-by-tim-rogers/.

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Tim Rogers

Detours

Fourth Estate, 2018. 338 pages.

First, a caveat; I've been listening to Tim Rogers play music since the millennium just gone. I've seen him and an assortment of others play in University refectories, various pubs, Casa del Resaca and the Sydney Opera House. I've got the CDs, I've got a t-shirt somewhere. On the other hand, I refused to go see You Am I go all nostalgia and play Hi Fi Way and Hourly, Daily back to back a few years ago. What does that mean in the context of these comments? It means I want the book to be good. Objectivity ... must be in doubt.

The cover of Detours by Tim Rogers.

 

It's probably useful to begin with what this book is not. It is not an autobiography. It does not begin and the beginning and end, if not the end, then at least the present. It's a memoir, a self-portrait in words. Sure, it covers his childhood -- or at least a few key episodes. It covers where he's at now and how he feels about it and how he gets through the days. But you won't find out how You Am I formed. Or, at least, not very directly. We get a few words on the band he formed with his brother. That's about it. How did he meet Andy Kent? Or Russell Hopkinson or Mark Tunaley or ... it's not here. What was it like working with Lee Ranaldo or Jackie Orszáczky or ... it’s not here. Not a hint of a discography. Most of the albums are not even mentioned in passing. So, in short, this not not a book about You Am I. It's a book about Tim, and about what was and is going on inside him. This is not a negative remark; it's just a statement of fact. I think one useful thing a review can do is give a sense of the kind of book we're looking at. I'll admit I've panned the odd book on these pages, but I generally try to give an idea of what you're in for and, yes, that includes strengths and weaknesses. But if I think a book might be solid but just not for me, I try to say so.

So what what does the book give you? It gives you Tim. What he thinks, what he feels, how he reacts, how he gets by, what's important to him, and who's important to him. Even there, it's often off screen. Clearly his daughter is a focus of his orbit, but he never narrates a major episode with her in it the way he does with footy friends and drinking companions. She's always tugging at his mind, but he doesn't render the encounter, just a few words of a phone call or something. Maybe it's too central to him to share with us, and that's fair enough.

If you like the idea of sitting down (or standing up, more likely) in a bar and listening to Tim Rogers pour out his thoughts on everything from footy to Loudon Wainwright to CheesyBite and Davey Lane, this is the book for you. If you want evocative thumbnail portraits of his dad or his first girlfriend, this is the book for you. If you've really listened to his lyrics and noted his preoccupations, this is the book for you -- though you won't find out what triggered the writing of 'Purple Sneakers' or 'Heavy Heart' or 'We Hardly Knew You'. Not in any specific sense. But you will get an idea of his preoccupations and working habits, and that's what these things flow from. You will read 'the boy's angry at the water' and a few other insights, but what we're really glimpsing here is Tim Rogers’ inner world brought out. He’s frank about his mental struggles and how he’s dealt -- or not -- with them. It’s like a case self-study written by an eloquent subject.

Rogers writes with style. He uses words you might expect -- peccadilloes, wankers, cirrhosis -- but as always he turns up unexpected and (usually) effective metaphor. There's no hint of a ghost-writer in a book like this -- there wouldn't be enough money in it to pay one anyway -- and every page is stamped with the character of the author. At one point he discusses the trashing of hotel rooms, and figures it’s just mean to the cleaners, and why would a rock star want to pick on a cleaner who’s working long hours for low pay? Hell, they leave a tip if they spill a beer in the room. He’s been way down yet he’s kind of famous and he’s rubbed shoulders with greats. It gives him an interesting perspective on, well, the big questions of life, like “where’s the next drink coming from?”

If you've followed Tim through the highs of 'Beautiful Girl' and the Lows of 'Obviously' and 'Part Time Dads', then a lot here will not come as a surprise. But there's a lot to like about this self-portrait, a cubist view that gives facets and leaves gaps and relies on technique as much as content.

Just don't come in expecting a chronology, discography or even an
index. It’s not that kind of book.

 

You and I.

[Jimmy Jones · Rating 4 out of 5]

i loved this book. everything you'd expect from tim rogers. verbose, indulgent, frustrating, egotistical, self effacing and just damn stupid at times. tim rogers drives me nut as performer. i've seen him absolutely kill it on stage. and i've seen him be a petulant prick. and everything in between. this book is all those things. i hope he writes more

[James Washington · Rating 5 out of 5]

It weighed a metric but certainly couldn’t be set on the coffee table for more than an abolition or thrice. Its has me scornfully disappointed at the concept of social media and my own choices to not indulge so as to not be able to pen a note to the glorious bastard of an author. Kourosh Yaghmaei should be on the turntable. I’ll just put the kettle on. Now what to open next.

[Carolyn Adams · Rating 3 out of 5]

Self reflection that never quite invites you in.

[Damien Evans · Rating 5 out of 5]

Honest and funny and he tells a great story. Enjoyed it a lot.