When you get knocked down (and who doesn't from time to time?), a surefire remedy is to get right back up again and go see Chumbawamba. A performance from this band of eight semi-wacky anarchists (to paraphrase their hit single, "Tubthumping") won't keep you down long.

Few seem to be able to resist the urgings of their above-mentioned, ubiquitous pub-power anthem, with its don't-dare-be-oppressed refrain: "I get knocked down/ But I get up again/Because you're never going to keep me down!" The kids love it -- though the meaning of a "tubthumper" as an orator expressing subversive ideas may be lost on them. Sure "Tubthumping" sounds like a drinking song (many of Chumbawamba's songs do), especially when Dunstan Bruce chants, "He drinks a lager drink," etc. But don't be fooled. Chumbawamba, with their nonsensical name that sounds borrowed from the pages of Lewis Carroll, are making a political point.

Despite the band's radical overtones, a Home Alone 3 contingency of ten-years-old with parents in tow was represented at the show. The audience's eclecticism didn't stop there: club kids, East Village punks, retired punks, and middle-aged folks in from the Island seemed to be enjoying themselves as well. One couldn't help but wonder what portion was present just to hear that "Danny Boy/whisky" song they've been playing on the radio? Nevertheless, early on into the one-hour long set, the faithful core fans were transformed into human pogo sticks from the thrust and bob of the music. Music that is fun, loud, danceable, and sometimes storybook surreal.

Chumbawamba have a healthy repertoire beyond their hit single, as well they should after fifteen years of making music. A sizable portion of the audience was familiar with the earlier songs, such as "Homophobia" and "Never Do," which amounted to approximately half of the set; the rest of the play list came from their current platinum-selling album, Tubthumper. Guitarist Boff, trumpeter Jude, and vocalist/keyboardist Lou Watts sang an older, a cappella song about the hopeful eradication of Nazis which, at first, sounded as if it could be an Irish schoolchildren's song. In addition, the twenty-minute encore was all earlier music, during which Boff and Bruce got the audience to sing along.

The stage theatrics in the show were left mostly to vocalists/keyboardists Danbert Nobacon and Alice Nutter, the band's hams. Nobacon, with his shaved head, sang into his microphone at a sly angle, slinking around the stage like a post-punk serpent. Nutter, bouncy with sheared indigo-hair, donned several costumes: first, a basic black stage uniform with a mudflap female silhouette on her belt buckle. Later, she facetiously swilled Jim Beam, dragged on fags, and had a momentary rant about Jesus' sex life while wearing a red nun's habit. Nutter also shadowboxed buoyantly and slagged on the Spice Girls by interjecting lyrics like, "I'll tell you what I want/What I really really want" into one song. It's apparent that Nutter will be a lively punk 'till the end.

The other members -- Boff, Jude, bassist Paul Greco, drummer Harry Hamer, and Watts, (who sings the "Danny Boy" vocal part of "Tubthumping") -- tended to hang back, feet fixed to the floor. Bruce alternated between percussion and vocal duties, going from the front to the back of the stage. Several of the bandmates took turns at center stage (perhaps because it's the only fair way). They have no leader -- not a Gavin Rossdale in sight. This band is a functional, self-governing unit of ideology and art. Their lyrical intent may be serious, but they have a refreshing lack of over-earnestness. It's like Chumbawamba are saying, "Being anti-government or anti-whatever can be fun."

But ultimately, people came to hear the music, and Chumbawamba delivered. Though their current LP is jam-packed with audio and music samples, most were excluded from the show, and it did not suffer. The one weak link in the performance was the set's final and most anticipated song, "Tubthumping," which Bruce introduced as a "Ye Olde English Rebel Song." But the band played and sang it at a clipped pace, which depleted some of its recorded nuances. Are they growing a little weary of their big hit? Perhaps, though it is doubtful that they will tire soon of the act and the art of tubthumping.

-- Alexandra Flood