As my dad and I wandered into The Triffid on Friday night for some You Am I assisted father/son bonding, we tried to determine whether there were more people born in the '60s (like him) or the '90s (like me) in attendance. We decided we were both at one end of the age spectrum but neither of us looked out of place, which says something about the band's enduring appeal.

When the support band is Hits, you know you are in for a good night. The band - as unpretentious and uninterested in experimentation as their name suggests - kicked things off with their wonderfully haggard brand of rock and roll. 'Jesus F Christ' and 'Loose Cannons' from last year's Hikikomori were both highlights, with frontman Evil Dick howling into his microphone as the band bashed out deliciously simple rock and roll around him. Hits were great fun, as they always are, but I couldn't help thinking they seem more at home in the dingier surrounds of a venue like the Crowbar.

By the time You Am I strode onstage at 10:40pm I could see in some of the faces around me that it was already past their typical bedtime, but Tim Rogers and the lads have amassed an enormous amount of good will over the last 25 years and were treated to a hearty welcome. Before playing a note, Rogers leaned into the microphone and said, “Rock and roll is dance music and we're here to prove it.” And with their mission made clear, the band tore into 'Good Advices', the first single from their recent album Porridge & Hotsauce.

The first thing that struck me about You Am I is that Tim Rogers is a pure rock and roll classicist. He wore a shiny gold jacket over a leopard-print shirt, which was wide open, revealing his chest tattoo of two hands clasped together in prayer. This is a man who loves and has studied all the classic moves in rock and roll – including the windmill and dancing with the mic stand - and it's a joy watching someone who is so entertaining in such a traditional way.

An early highlight arrived in the form of the soulful 'Two Hands', also from Porridge & Hotsauce, complete with a couple of backup singers and not one, but two key changes - another classic technique for injecting a bit of excitement into a song's repeated choruses.

During their set, someone near the front kept shouting, “Berlin Chair! Berlin Chair!” Rogers eventually fired back, “Mate, we've played over 3, 000 shows. If you're gonna make a request, you have to do better than that,” before asking him to let them the band “get on with our job.” This was actually a theme for the night, and another way in which Rogers is a rock and roll traditionalist – his belief that it is his job is to make people feel like “it's always Saturday night, 'round ten,” as he said before a ripping rendition of ''Round Ten'.

After a few more songs of spirited rock and roll, including '90s alternative classics like 'Purple Sneakers', the rest of the band filed offstage and left Rogers to sing 'Heavy Heart' accompanied only by touring member Steve Hesketh's simple piano chords. It was a beautifully heartfelt version of what is surely one of the finest ballads in Australian rock history. Rogers seemed to feel the line, “there's nothing romantic about the hours I keep” even more now, as a rock veteran in his mid-forties, than when he wrote it nearly two decades ago.

In the end, they did drag out 'Berlin Chair' for its obligatory airing. It was a lot of fun hearing everyone shouting along to every word, tripping over the lyrics in the verses before pulling it together for the chorus. Still, it's a strange thing to watch a band play a song that is so beloved, knowing that they are sick to death of it. Despite Tim's repeated references to their “doing [their] job”, it was the only moment all night that looked more like business than pleasure.

- Joel Lohman.