The Forum needs an exorcism and a good scrub down after two successive nights hosting the fresh blood of Australian rock alongside its gutsy undisputed heroes, You Am I. 

The Vanda’s literally warm up the venue, their bluesy sound accentuating the positive side of The Forum’s echoing acoustics. Casually indifferent to the size of their audience, they play an unhurried set of melodious rock. It’s not often you get the chance to soak up a dose of such unembellished musical talent. The Vandas really come into their own with their new material. If you haven’t caught a show for a while, now is the time to see them.

The majority of the crowd is ready and waiting for The Drone’s slot at 9.30, making it obvious they are support act in name alone. Even Something for Kate’s Paul Dempsey and Stephanie Ashworth make the effort to be punctual, ducking into the VIP section just in time to see the four-piece. Despite the heavy press coverage of their AMP win, I don’t quite know what to expect from the Melbourne based Drones who have spent that last six months on tour in the UK.

Tearing through the faultless ‘baby2’, The Drones make high voltage rock look all too easy. This task accomplished, they’re not interested in pandering to anyone. Each song veers in a different direction, reigned in by the steady thumping underscore of Mike Noga’s drums. The pigeon chested Gareth Lilliard howls his way through foot stomping blues, swamp rock, spoken word poetry and plenty of theatrics.

There’s a fine line between pleasure and just plain painful. At one point it’s not clear whether Lilliard is tuning up or treating us to a piece of performance art, and he spends a fair bit of the set writhing on the stage floor throttling his guitar. Basically, punters will either find his performance electric, or like myself, worry that Lilliard is actually being electrocuted. It all hangs perilously close to the edge, tethered on each side by Rui Pereira’s guitar and Fiona Kitschin’s sterling efforts on bass. The set crashes to an end with Lilliard doubled over, guitar abandoned, growling menacingly into the microphone – a sight that becomes familiar as the night goes on.

You Am I defy the odds at 11pm, having survived another Friday night’s shenanigans to follow up their sold out show. All eyes are on the man in blistering white jeans and collared shirt as he strides across the stage. A moment later, everyone realises front man Tim Rogers is actually the other skinny guy, the one wearing the dirty jeans, bare chest and black leather. The effect isn’t lost on Rogers, who makes a running joke out of guitarist Davey’s “white boy” ensemble. Reclaiming his alpha male status, Rogers promises his adoring crowd a night of “treats”, including sexual favors from his luminous band mate, “he’ll sleep with every fourth one of you, and still come out smelling sweet.”

The set list is a pub crawl down memory lane. Old familiar haunts ‘Cathy’s Clown’ and ‘Rumble’ sound so fresh they could have been written yesterday. ‘Berlin Chair’ and ‘Coprolalia’ proudly bear all the hallmarks of nineties grunge, a reminder of why long hair was once a must have (even the stoic Paul Dempsey does a bit of enthusiastic head nodding to this one).

Early in the piece ‘I’m a Mess’ is dedicated (or should that be attributed?) to “the drug dealers of Melbourne”, and it doesn’t take long for the crowd to warm to the new album ‘Convicts’. After all, you’d be foolish to argue with such a heady mix of pure anger and adrenaline. ‘It Ain’t Funny How We Don’t Talk Anymore ‘and ‘With Friends Like You’ bristle with riffs and raw energy. Short and sweaty, they’re over before you know whats hit you. Suffice to say You Am I are still a musical force to be reckoned with, and not guys you would want to take on in a bar fight

Perhaps the latest single should be rechristened ‘They Just Don’t Make ‘em Like Tim Rogers Anymore’. A generous host, he rounds out the set for long time fans with the sentimental ‘Heavy Heart’. Returning for the encore, he temporarily steps out of his irreverent alter ego to thank the supporters and express his gratitude to be back playing with his band at The Forum. Moments later he is on his knees, belting out thrash rock number ‘Thank God I’ve Hit the Bottom’ and spitting venom like a man possessed. Rogers looks dazed as he staggers to his feet. “It’s a strange life” he says sheepishly, retrieving his near-empty vodka bottle and exiting stage left.