CHUMBAWAMBA
Although many casual radio listeners have written off Chumbawamba as a one-hit wonder now that the anarchistic ensemble’s “Tubthumping” has started to fade from airwaves, movie trailers, and sports highlights clips, longtime fans might recall that the group’s artistic apex came more than a decade ago. On albums such as Pictures of Starving Children Sell Millions and Never Mind the Ballots, Chumbawamba combined Crass’ art-punk and radical discourse with Peter, Paul, and Mary-style harmonies. Later, the group replaced high-speed drum beats with mellow programmed dance rhythms, and while some cried “Judas” and abandoned it immediately, others decided to wait to see where Chumbawamba was heading with this seeming concession to the mainstream. In interviews, various members of the group explained that they were looking to reach a wider audience, to bring their political ideology into the Walkmans of mall-shopping pop fans rather than continue to preach to the converted at packed punk clubs. The plan succeeded, as their latest album went multiplatinum and inspired television shows and magazines to offer the members a forum to share their beliefs. However, with the group’s follow-up, WYSIWYG, the question becomes: Is anyone still listening?
If not, it’s their loss. WYSIWYG is an amazing collection of 22 compact tunes that pair caustic commentary and cheery music in a manner reminiscent of The Smiths. The album’s first single, “She’s Got All the Friends,” sees the band unloading on an easy target (popular rich girls), but its abundant pop hooks and ingenious doo-wop interlude make it easy to forget the tune’s relatively uncreative subject matter. Fortunately, the rest of the record, which is packed with upbeat horn accents, Beatles-type melodies, and airtight harmonies, is as compelling lyrically as it is musically. Among the highlights are “Pass It Along,” a Pet Shop Boys-style dance-floor rant about the sense of isolation created by Internet shopping and home-security systems; “I’m Not Sorry, I Was Having Fun,” a perky tune about the riots at Woodstock and Seattle; and “I’m Coming Out,” a biting track directed at homosexual celebrities who choose to spend their careers in the closet. Brief diversions such as “Ladies For Compassionate Lynching” and “The Physical Impossibility of Death in the Mind of Jerry Springer” offer a humorous jolt while contributing to the album’s seamless flow.
On WYSIWYG, Chumbawamba takes accessibility to new extremes. The victims of these barbs, such as Charlton Heston (“Moses With a Gun”) and Florida’s wealthy resort-home dwellers (“Celebration, Florida”), could hear these tunes on their favorite easy-listening station and hum along mindlessly, unaware of the venom directed their way. It’s been said that music soothes the savage beast, but Chumbawamba suggests that the converse is true: A sharp-teethed political animal can use melody to charm its way into the homes of an apathetic populace. — Andrew Miller
