Chumbawamba - The End

[anarchoskin69]

That’s it then, it’s the end. with neither a whimper, a bang or a reunion. Thirty years of ideas and melodies, endless meetings and European tours, press releases, singalong choruses and Dada sound poetry, finally at an end. It’s hard to sum up why without sitting you down one at a time and having a proper conversation, but that’d take too long. So, in as few words as possible, here goes.

We felt we’d got to a point where what we did as a band – and specifically the writing, recording, touring cycle – wasn’t doing justice to what Chumbawamba set out to do in the first place. We were always as much about ideas as music, and that meant doing more than writing, recording and touring songs. It meant trying to be relevant and active and up-to-date, while trying to avoid the dreaded rut of routine or repetition. being up-to-date meant giving plenty of time and energy to the band, constantly, for those thirty years; a constancy we plainly couldn’t keep up with in the end.
[RIP. I will remember a certain show as an important moment for me... not that I have corporal form]

Chumbawamba was our vehicle for pointing at the naked Emperors, for telling our version of the truth; it gave us more than the joy and love of playing live, writing songs and singing together – it gave us a chance to be part of a broad coalition of activists and hectors, optimists and questioners. But eventually the rest of our lives got in the way and we couldn’t commit the time and enthusiasm that the band demanded. Couldn’t keep up with whatever responsibilities came with a band like this.

If there were ever a Chumbawamba manifesto, it would read in the inconsistent, contradictory language of the Dadaists – part strident belligerence and part foolishness. This ending is no different; it comes almost as much of a surprise to us as it may do to you. Always more clown than politician, the band trips over its outsize feet and performs its final tumble.

There have been squabbles and arguments along the way. A deal of griping, frustration, moaning, exasperation – but always alongside a huge amount of goodwill and generosity, good humour and love. What a riot it’s been, frankly. And now it’s time to clear up the mess and move on.

That’s the simple version, anyway.

So, sometime before the end of our thirtieth year – 2012 – we’ll play a few final times and then we’ll hang up our guitars, trumpets and football rattles. We’ll worry that we’ve made the wrong decision, and we’ll wonder why we’re throwing away something with so much potential, especially at a time when this country needs all the truth-telling it can get. But we’ll be coming to a stop knowing that we can look back on it proudly and smile at what we all did together.

A quick and inadequate thank you to everyone that played some part in all this, the band members and labels and agents and the rest. And thank you to the people who supported the band, followed the unannounced twists and turns, dipped their toes in, and even those who ditched us after one too many of our bizarre route-choices.

We do hope that somewhere along the way we’ve been able to pass on some of that musical finger-pointing to others. However much we wanted to mess up our career options with all those bouts of chopping and changing, we relished a role as a band that could use music to pass on information. Songs as history lessons or cultural debates. If others have been inspired to switch off the telly and do something useful because of all this, then that will be our measure of success (more of a measure, in any case, than record sales).

We’ll carry on working outside the band, sticking our necks out, getting involved and mucking in. Part of the reason we couldn’t devote enough time and effort to Chumbawamba was being already involved in all the stuff of life that wasn’t the band.

So yes, we’ll probably see you around somewhere. Maybe now people will stop asking if the electric band is getting back together … but probably not. Maybe one of you lot can organise a tribute band and play at our local pub. Go on, it’ll make the surreal absurdity of our 30 years complete.

We do, of course, reserve the right to re-emerge as Chumbawamba doing something else entirely (certainly not touring and putting out albums every 2 or 3 years). But frankly, that’s not very likely. Thirty years of being snotty, eclectic, funny, contrary and just plain weird. What a privilege, and what a good time we’ve had.

source: http://anarchistnews.org/content/chumbawamba-end

[THEBLACKNOVA]

APN this is old news i got the TWEET hours ago...

But seriously, i guess that sucks, fuck i only saw them twice

Thanks for posting this anarchoskin69

[anarchoskin69]

APN this is old news i got the TWEET hours ago...

But seriously, i guess that sucks, fuck i only saw them twice

Thanks for posting this anarchoskin69

Haha no problem. Damn work, getting in the way and not letting me post earlier. Damn the man!

[ungovernable]

Last week Chumbawamba, the nonsensically named band responsible for the ubiquitous nonsensically named hit "Tubthumping," announced it was calling it quits after 30 years. The news item drew reactions ranging from "Oh yeah, that 'I get knocked down' '90's band?" to "They were still around?" and also "God, that song blows." In the midst of their 15 minutes of fame, the word "anarchist" was always casually bandied about, but never in a serious way. I recall seeing an appearance the band made on Rosie O'Donnell's daytime talk show in which she introduced them as "the nicest bunch of anarchists I've ever met!"

Yet shortly after the split-up announcement last week, Aaron Lake Smith wrote a fascinating Chumbawamba retrospective for Jacobin Magazine that spells out how subversive the band truly was over its three decades in action.
[remember when bands used to be important?]

Smith, who's now an editor at Vice Magazine, self-published an extensive Chumbawamba fanzine in 2008 as part of his Big Hands series that he wrote under the moniker Aaron Asshat.


Big Hands Chumbawamba.jpg

His Jacobin piece is a distillation of that zine, examining how a virulent anarchist band many dispose as a one-hit wonder went from performance art spectacles in British squats to dumping water on a deputy Prime Minister at an awards show.

After years of community activism and playing punk shows, the band became fascinated with the underground (and oftentimes illegal) activities in the '80s British rave scene, inspiring them to start playing electronic music. Soon enough, Chumbawamba were offered a record contract by EMI, a conglomerate they had roundly criticized in their punk past, having once smeared blood on an EMI building.

The decision didn't come easy, but it was decided that more positive work could be done with EMI's dirty money than giving the deal a petulant middle finger. As the story goes, Chumbawamba gave away $100,000 they earned from licensing a song for a GM commercial to anarchist and anti-corporate groups like Indymedia and Corpwatch. Band member Alice Nutter went on late-night talk show "Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher" and said she didn't care if people stole their albums, prompting Virgin Megastore to stash their stock of Tubthumper behind the counter.

Beyond these and other anecdotes, one of the most interesting parts of Smith's retrospective is his assertion that Chumbawamba's flexible anarchy could be seen as a counterpoint to D.C. punks Fugazi and leader Ian MacKaye's legendary hard-line practices. Whereas Fugazi was unwavering in its $5 all-ages shows and straight-edge politics, Chumbawamba embodied the sell-out-and-subvert-from-the-inside school of punk moralizing.

It's hard to say, which group had a more profound impact on the self-described "anti-capitalist" punk scene. Fugazi's symbolic rejection of fame and the profit motive was certainly more popular within it though. Ironically though, some of the bands from the scene they had spent time mothering used their association with Fugazi as a stepping stone to become commercially successful. Fugazi hit a brick wall with their American-style, "less talk more rock" radicalism in the same way that Chumbawamba were consumed by their experience as celebrities, and began to criticize the music industry from an insidery perspective.

Smith asserts that Chumbawamba's major label dealings may have turned them into a pop punchline, but their willingness to try bending the music industry to their will was more effective than merely embodying a radical lifestyle.

Chumbawamba stopped focusing on their diets and started focusing on political action. They knew that real change wouldn't come from forming little ultra-radical tribes and cadres. They broke out of the punk ghetto and became normal people, spending time at workingman's clubs, at bars, at bus stops and day care centers. They brought their explicitly anarchist message onto the morning television programs and interviews and talked and performed on amphitheater stages in front of hundreds of thousands of people.

So basically, that annoying song about pissing the night away could be considered an act of revolutionary populism, and the band responsible for that song encouraged people to steal it. If they didn't feel like underachievers already, Right Said Fred and OMC should be ashamed.

http://anarchistnews.org/content/no-ser ... chist-past

[THEBLACKNOVA]

BELLA CIAO

[zakkman666]

This really sucks, I never got to see em