Tub Thumping
A few years ago a British group by the name of Chumbawamba had an international hit with their song Tub Thumping (I get knocked down, but I get up again. They're never gonna keep me down…). Although we never really understood what it meant, my generation spent hours singing along to the song on the radio. Last night I had the opportunity to see them in concert but the experience was not what I had expected. One of the English teachers with whom I work drove myself and two of the other assistants to the "bar" where the concert was to be held. We arrived a little after 8, knowing that there was a debate before the performance. We followed the signs down a graffiti-covered alleyway to an opening full of circus-like tents. Someone behind us directed us into a building to the left, through a black cloth-covered door. The "bar" was actually an industrial garage with worn throw rugs covering the floor and mismatched chairs and sofas lining the walls.
The "debate" was still underway and though I tried to follow what was going on, I was distracted by the two little dogs chasing each other around the room. The man speaking was long-winded and all I really understood was that he wanted us to throw our money together and go into a communal living situation on a farm. This reminded me of a book I read for psychology class back in college entitled Walden Two. I don't remember the name of the author but the basic gist of the book was that someone had tried this idea and it didn't work. The whole atmosphere in the garage was a little Bohemian and the smell of cannabis was ripe in the air.
The debate ended and the warm-up band (it was a French band) took the stage. There was a woman with a guitar (reminded me of Jenny from Forest Gump) and a man with an accordion. Their music was definitely based on the anti-war movement of the 60s and 70s and all that I caught from their performance was that they had spent some time in Italy and the woman was imprisoned at some point in her life. The group ended their set and Chumbawamba took the stage. The lead singer had gotten sick and returned to England so they were down one member. Nonetheless, the music was great. They sounded fantastic and once you got past the lyrics it was possible to enjoy the performance. Their songs were extremely political and their hatred for the United States, the war, governments in general, and their lack of faith in humanity were readily apparent in their songs.
Halfway through the set the man in front of me leaned over to the gent next to him and asked a question. The second man pulled his ticket out of his pocket, looked at it, and replied, "Chumbawamba." The first man didn't even know who he was watching. It was at this point that a sense of sadness set in. Despite their status as a one-hit-wonder, the group had once enjoyed international fame playing on stages across the United States and Europe. Seeing them reduced to playing anti-war songs in a garage in an unknown town in France was too much. It was almost like encountering a childhood hero years later, after they've been broken by life. Perhaps they always were and it was only through a child's eyes that they achieved glory. Sometimes the past is best left alone.
posted by Unknown @ 9:23 PM
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