A psychoanalyst once observed that a rock concert is like the womb: warm, dark and resonating with the maternal heartbeat of the drum. Freedom Songs was a return to infancy in a curtained black space. Between inane songs, thanks are given to an ever-changing imaginary band line up. Crass political statements are made. Catchy ear worms are implanted. The final round of thank-yous are delivered by microphone from within a flight case to an interminable list of individuals who have made the performance possible: ushers, ticket sellers, the safety inspectors of the South Wales Fire Service... It is a return to the womb and a reappearance of the umbilical chord which was never really gone.
Freedom Songs was performed at Chapter Arts Centre in Cardiff. It was also performed twice for assessment at my university and once at the public graduation show. It took on very different qualities depending on the size and composition of the various audiences, and especially on their members position in the university's power structure and their authority over the performer.