#35: The story of Chumbawamba
Part strident belligerence and part foolishness
“When we first started writing songs, we thought that choruses were tools of capitalist imperialists.
“And then we quickly learned that if you stick a chorus in that’s got a sing-along slogan to it, people like it. They can hear it at a concert and by the second chorus, they are singing along. Not like these long diatribes that we used to do.”
How does a band go from “CATCHINESS IS IMPERIALISM!” to “I get knocked down, but I get up again / You’re never gonna keep me down”?
In that question lies the story of Chumbawamba.
Twenty-plus years after “Tubthumping” became an inescapable cultural phenomenon, maybe it’s Obvious Trivia to note that the one-hit wonders with the goofy name were hardcore anarchists who had 15 years of activist bona fides when they were suddenly thrust into the limelight.
Pop music in the ’90s was more permissive, allowing a succession of novelty songs to become left-field hits (Right Said Fred’s “I’m Too Sexy,” Squirrel Nut Zippers’ “Hell,” Aqua’s “Barbie Girl,” etc.). “Tubthumping” isn’t among them; it’s a maddeningly catchy pop song that unsurprisingly found its way into a variety of movie trailers and commercials. In that same interview I quoted above—from Punk Planet’s March/April 1998 issue—member Boff Whalley mentions Chumbawamba were “offered $40,000 for 30 seconds of music every day for four weeks” at one point.
While “Tubthumping” wasn’t a novelty song, Chumbawamba at least qualifies as quirky. They were a sprawling eight-member collective. The song was unmistakably British, sung in similarly unmistakable British accents. On top of it all, of course, was the group’s nonsensical moniker.
Like those who fruitlessly search for the home state of the Simpsons, people tried to understand the inscrutable meaning of Chumbawamba. The band, being smartass anarchists, were happy to provide a load of bullshit that everyone took at face value.
Over at the band-name section of amiright.com—imagine a combination of Urban Dictionary and Wikipedia, so, you know, unreliable—there are a staggering 20 entries for the supposed origin of Chambawamba, several of them comically pissy. “They ACTUALLY got the band name based on a dream that the guitarist had,” goes one. Another backs it up, saying, “The band members have been QUOTED saying that the name was from the guitarist’s dream.” (Yes, they were quoted bullshitting the interviewer.)
That particular origin story says one of band members had a dream where they were in a club and trying to use the restroom, but the signs on the doors said “Chumba” and “Wamba,” instead of “men” and “women.” A variation on this story says this actually happened in a club while Chumbawamba was on tour outside of England. Or that “Chumba” and “Wamba” are British slang for men’s and women’s restrooms.
Other theories held that “Chumbawamba” is something the Ewoks say in Return of the Jedi. Or that someone actually attempted the experiment of having a thousand monkeys sit at a thousand typewriters, and “Chumbawamba” came from that. (A variant on this story says that two members blindfolded themselves and hit letters on a keyboard, which produced the name.) Still another says it’s “a slang term for the roll of fat on the back of a bald man’s head.”
Another story, supposedly from a band interview, says the band was busking in a public square overseas, and—hoo boy—“groups of African tribal dancers were in the same public square as them shouting nonsensical phrases like ‘Chumba! Chumba! Chumba! Wamba! Chumba Wamba!’ and drowning out their acoustic performance.” “This is the honest truth,” the person writes.
It is and it isn’t. In Footnote*, Whalley’s Chumbawamba memoir, he supposedly says the name came from African street musicians in Paris. If you look at Whalley’s website, there’s even a (tiny) photo of Chumbawamba busking in Paris in 1980. But in a footnote, Whalley says it’s a lie, as was every other explanation the band gave for its name. (I can’t confirm this independently, as Footnote* is long out of print and unavailable.)
As always, the truth of the matter is much less interesting. Here’s the official story Chumbawamba had on their old website:
Chumbawamba doesn’t mean anything. At the time we formed (early 80’s) there was a rush of bands with obvious names. It was the time of ‘peace punk’ and you couldn't get across a youth club dance floor without bumping into a Disorder, a Subhumans, a Decadent Youth or an Anthrax t shirt. We liked the sound of Chumbawamba because it wasn’t nailing ourselves down. Thatcher On Acid were a good band but it’s lucky for them that Thatcher stayed in power for 11 years. If her influence had only lasted 18 months Thatcher On Acid’s sell by date would have come and gone a lot sooner. We wanted a name which wouldn’t date.
Personally, I instantly think of the ’90s when I hear “Chumbawamba,” but that has more to do with the band’s breakthrough than the name itself.
Chumbawamba called it quits in September 2012, roughly 30 years after forming in northern England. They posted a characteristically thoughtful note on their site announcing the split:
If there were ever a Chumbawamba manifesto, it would read in the inconsistent, contradictory language of the Dadaists - part strident belligerence and part foolishness.
And that’s as good an explanation of “Chumbawamba” as any.
POST-SCRIPTS
That Chumbawamba Punk Planet interview is also available in We Owe You Nothing: Punk Planet: The Collected Interviews. The expanded edition has one of my first interviews with Bob Mould!
While Chumbawamba were anarchists, they also had socialist tendencies. In that interview, Whalley mentions they split their money evenly when they were on tour—all eight members, road crew, etc. When they weren’t on tour, the band members earned the same amount from all revenue, then they basically gave away the rest to like-minded organizations. This at a time when they were generating millions of dollars. Say what you want, but Chumbawamba walked the walk.
I can’t mention “Tubthumping” without linking to They Might Be Giants covering it for A.V. Undercover. You can see me and Genevieve Koski in the background behind John Flansburgh! (Comedian Dan Telfer was also there.) It was so fun—we even performed it with them on stage at the Vic Theatre in Chicago.