Monday, 24 March 2025

Tubthumping fun

Chumbawamba got it right, didn't they?

It was so good, even better than I'd expected, to see them again on the recent BBC Four repeats of  'Top of the Pops' episodes from August 1997.  'Tubthumping' is one of those songs that's so familiar it's easy to take it completely for granted.  But Chumbawamba's two performances on the show were pure joy.  There's the one where they're all clad in black and another where the line-up are dressed immaculately in distinctly non-anarcho white, apart from vocalist Dunstan in a mad brick wall pattern suit.  In both, the studio's teenybop audience go wild.

There's loads I could write about Chumbawamba but others can do it so much better and I don't feel I could do the band justice, so I'm here just because I'm bursting with a newly energised appreciation of them all these years later.  And because something in my head is going: this is what anarcho-punk should have been like all along.

I suggest this only from my own perspective and experience, but I think it'd be fair to say that there are some things that Mr SDS regrets about his time in another anarcho-punk band, perhaps the main thing being the lack of...  fun.  The same goes for me, being immersed in it at the time too.  I still think it's great that the bands (and followers) were fired up and angry enough to express and promote beliefs, support countless under-represented people and causes, etc. and what better time than in your youth when you have all that energy and the genuine conviction that you can change things through music, through coming together, spreading the word and so on.  But I don't think there was enough light to help offset the justified yet depressing darkness in this particular genre.  Black clothes became - rather ironically - a soulless uniform, after-gig conversations often continued political debates with little humour; there wasn't much frivolous relief.  And that's not to mention a degree of the "I'm more earnest than you" self-righteousness and judgement within its ranks too.

There's also the glaringly obvious fact that most bands by their very nature were only appealing to a few, a minority who wanted their music loud, shouty, angry, dischordant or whatever.  Music that reflected the seriousness of the lyrics, music that your parents wouldn't like.  Thus there was a continual loop of preaching to the converted, and everything staying within its own parameters: underground.

But then you get Chumbawamba.  Upbeat, musically diverse and genuinely talented and melodic - they actually smile, they dance, they make you... feel good?  Is that ok, to feel good?  It doesn't mean you don't still care.  For a while in anarcho's most intense period during the '80s, it seemed it just wasn't ok to enjoy yourself.   Whilst maybe I shouldn't compare Chumbawamba's success in 'Tubthumping' with the anarcho scene from around 15 years earlier, I wonder if it still serves as a valid example of what could have been?  

Chumbawamba had been a big part of the '80s anarcho punk movement, playing numerous benefit gigs and writing songs about the miners' strikes, homophobia, etc. but it was their signing to EMI in 1997 which perhaps caused the most controversy.  Did they 'sell out" or did they do exactly the right thing by accepting an offer that would propel them into the charts and give them access to hundreds of thousands more listeners and potential converts around the world?  They argued that, in a capitalist environment, almost every record company operated around capitalist principles - even smaller ones were motivated by profit - so the move to a major label brought them much bigger exposure plus the funds to do more.  Soon after,  'Tubthumping', with its singalong chorus (and prolific use of the word 'pissing'!) hit the charts, and I remember thinking at the time, "whaaat?  An anarcho punk band on the BBC?!"   

Watching them again on the repeats though, I'm so charmed and impressed by everything about them.  They really look like they're having...  fun. Smiles!  Dancing!  Loudhailers!  A trumpet break! 

I think guitarist Boff Whalley puts it really well in an interview with the Guardian from 2016.   "To 99% of people we just had that one song, but there is always the 1% who listen to the rest of the album and like it enough to listen to more.  I still really like 'Tubthumping'.  I don't feel embarrassed by it at all.  I know some bands who hate their songs being popular, but I just think, 'Get off your high horse!'  The whole point of art is to have an audience."

Vocalist Dunstan Bruce adds, "I never gave a shit about people saying we had sold out.  It was much more important to be part of popular culture as a political band.  We gave a lot of the money away and it was a real opportunity to do something positive."

So positive that it unexpectedly made my day to see these two performances again...  I hope it does yours.



Thursday, 6 March 2025

Big bird


I hear it before I see it.

A whistling call, slightly eerie.

Tilt my head upwards…

Oh wow.  Flying low, wheeling, above the gardens.  In the cloudless sky its plumage is unmistakeable – the barred underwing feathers, the forked russet tail, the white head.  And then it soars right over me, that whistling call on repeat, and angles its head down to survey.  Does it see me?  I think it does.  I’m disproportionately (and, I know, ridiculously!) moved to the point that my eyes prick with tears.  I can’t really explain why, except I think it’s something about the wonder of seeing such a huge, majestic bird in the wild, and of knowing its bittersweet back story.

Look up!

Something compels me to look up... even though I haven't seen it yet.

I’m wandering down the slope, on the way to the shops.  But it’s what’s above which now has my attention.  The circling – wings outstretched, so wide! – and the tell-tale shape of its tail.  As I keep walking, the bird’s effortless-looking spirals move ahead of me incrementally and it feels as if it’s leading the way.  I follow, but it has the advantage over me; its speed reducing it to a mere speck, and then out of sight.  I want to fly!

I’m hanging the washing out on this still, intensely bright, cyan blue March morning, when a movement pierces the skyscape. Rising upward over the roof, gaining height, higher, higher - and then a graceful glide, henna-hued tail fanned - over the ridge tiles and away.  But what a sight.

Once again, I hear it before I see it.  Oh, that call.  I’m tuned in now, that'll be it forever now, my ears have instinctively diverted to it, over the sound of cars and jackdaws.  That whistle is really evocative – a sound that taps into something deep and primeval  – as if I've been here before, centuries ago.   I wait in the garden for it to pass over, oh please do! - and yes it does –  coming so low I can see its detail, the yellow bill, its eyes swivelling to look down.  Ohhh! Then off again over the fields, the whistling getting fainter.  I feel a thrill.

For four days running now I’ve enjoyed the spectacle of the red kite.  I’m sure it must be the same one.  I said it came low, but then I thought, how low was it really?  Considering this bird of prey has a wingspan of up to 6 feet, it was probably still quite high up.  I’m trying to imagine it landing in the garden and how much space it would take up…which really puts things in proportion.... 

Is it that direct connection to wildness, to nature and a relatively unfamiliar creature which excites and delights me so much?  I think it must be, but as I mentioned above, it's also the back story.  If you don't already know about the red kite's history here it really is noteworthy.  Centuries ago they were common but, as with so many birds of prey, they suffered from severe persecution.  Sadly so much so that, by the late 1800s, they were extinct in England.  But in 1990, efforts were made to reintroduce them - and it all started off with just 13 pairs, who were flown over (in a British Airways jet!) from Spain.  Those 13 pairs did well - breeding successfully in the Chilterns, their young continuing the generations, more birds then being introduced, and gradually they've spread further out across the country.  It's now thought we have nearly 5000 pairs of red kites - maybe you already see them regularly? - but if you haven't yet spotted one, I'm sure they'll be coming to a field or garden near you soon, they're doing so well.  I hadn't seen one here until the last few years.

Everything's alright, even when it isn't, when these moments happen.  I'll be happy to stop whatever I'm doing, to be moved and exhilarated, breath-taken, grateful and in awe of this big, beautiful bird any time.  I hope I see it again today.


Simon Dupree & The Big Sound: Kites (!)

Eddie Floyd: Big Bird (a different kind of big bird, but what a song)

That eerie sounding call

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