About a year ago, I was delightfully surprised to learn that Chumbawamba, popularized by their hit song Tubthumping (I get knocked down, and I get up again) was actually an anarcho-punk band started in the early 80s!?! A friend referenced a line from a Bob Dylan documentary Don’t Look Back (1967) “Give an anarchist a cigarette” he said, which led me to their 1994 album Anarchy. I fell in love and started digging deeper. They sang, sometimes with humor and always with heart, about workplace hierarchy and the class struggle - my people.
Then, just a few weeks ago, right before I deactivated my account on the gram, @fuchsia.corv shared a flyer: Moff Whalley, founding member of Chumbawamba, in Corvallis on a book/music tour. This past Monday, despite being too tired and a little gretsy (~PA dutch equivalent word for hangry) - I went to a favorite local spot for coffee and music, the Interzone, to catch the event.
I could see Boff sitting alone through the sunsetting glare on the windows. He was writing, maybe reading. The Interzone seemed eerily empty at first, until I realized they moved all the chairs to the east side of the cafe for the event. And there were only a few seats left in the front row.
Boff spoke of his book But Life Isnt’ Like That, is IT? and shared a story about finding a box of pinned moths documenting the quick adaptation and evolution of the Creamy Peppered Moth. He shared observations about the violence of pinned moths, and the nature of being unpin-downable.
Growing up Mormon in Burnley, Boff struggled relating to the religious culture around him, and then one day he saw the Welfare State International colorfully celebrating in public around the town. This radical theater troop took performance art out of the theater and into the streets for the working class people.
I don’t know if I ever told you that my most favorite thing in the whole wide world is parading - arts - music - dance - in the streets. In the night, in the rain. Please, give me a second line to hop behind anytime - any day. I LIGHT up. Sometimes the joyfulness of the experience is almost too bright to hold - you have to keep moving, dancing, singing. Hearing about the Welfare State International connected to my deep hunger to freely dance amongst artistic expression celebrated in the streets, in community. Boff shared how it was a moment that changed his life. To him it felt like the anti-church - and he saw himself in their presence.
Then one day - while at home with his father - while watching TV the Sex Pistols were interviewed. He had never seen people dress like that, punks. The next day in school - everyone was talking about it. A few days later hairstyles changed and it became easier to find his people. He reflected on these seeming small moments in life that have such a big impact on the direction your life follows. I became even more hungry for parades.
Then he started playing the Chumbawamba song “I Wish That They’d Sack Me” and some of the crowd sang along. I have always been entranced by old Pete Seeger-y folk tracks - thinking of time so horrible - it brings artists out to the streets and the people singing in resistance together. There is something too big for words about singing with friends, singing with strangers -even.
This past October, Luke Wallace opened for Carsie Blanton at the Rose Theater in Portland. I was unfamiliar with the opener, but he opened strong with sparkly-eyes and a huge open heart. He turned on the most beautiful sound of resistance and like a conductor he got the entire theater howling and singing along with him. “I want it louder” he sang. “Turn it up” we sang back. “We got the power” and “Ain’t the revolution beautiful?” I cried, uncontrollably for a bit. I looked at the dear friend sitting next to me - with tearful eyes. “I guess I just really really really needed this” and I cried more. The tears flowed into the chorus like waves, we were all riding together. I get chills right now thinking about how powerful we are - resisting together.
Boff shared more stories, more songs. He seemed a little surprised by how eager the crowd was to sing along. We sang a few more songs in-between storytelling. He
closed with “Just Our Voices, That’s All” and it was a perfect moment, in a small coffee shop.
In times - when it gets so hard - so terrible… when the incessant squeeze from those with power is so tight that it pushes you to choose something different. When it pushes you to create and share, to connect and sing - you almost can’t sing loud enough. The moment has arrived.
See you in the streets.