Ben Folds’ “Hiroshima:” Watching Me Fall Into Humility

December 15, 2010 at 4:24 pm, by Jonah Rank

As you might know by now, I’m a huge fan of Ben Folds. I don’t need to give my history of Ben Folds fandom. Suffice it to say, there was little doubt that I would see Ben Folds’ performance tonight (technically, last night… it’s after midnight) at New York’s Beacon Theatre.

Since late 2008, Ben has been performing with 4 backup musicians, and this was my first time seeing him live in some incarnation of a 5-person band. (Both times I’d seen him before he was touring with just a bassist and a drummer backing him up.)

There has been concern among us diehard Ben Folds fans that the larger number of musicians could make it difficult for Ben to execute performances that have that raw energy or that natural improvisatory feel that he exuded either solo or as part of a three-piece band.*

In addition to the bigger band he now has, there’s also been more advanced stage-lighting going on since 2008. All in all, this performer, who is loved as a pretty casual stage personality, was suddenly placed literally into the spotlight of a more carefully choreographed and preplanned show.

So, it was my turn to be the judge of whether or not either this 5-piece thing or the lights-show is right for Ben Folds. I must say that it felt different from any other show of his I’d seen. I felt that the performance was more focused on accuracy than on energy at certain points tonight, and this was the first time that I worried that the musicians onstage with Ben—and Ben himself–might have felt a bit unconfident in their performance. But this was not the case for the entire show.

There were some slip-ups here and there: the minutiae of a note coming in later than the rest of the band, or Ben losing his place in “The Last Polka,” the delay of the lighting that had attempted to synchronize with the claps in “Annie Waits,” or when Ben realized that he could not remember the words to “Hiro’s Song.”

But the show came to—in my opinion—an unexpected high point when the band performed “Hiroshima**.” The biggest reason that this song was a highlight for me is because, like many fans, I agree that the lyrics are a little ridiculous, and the music is extremely repetitive. “Hiroshima” tells the—apparently true—story of Ben Folds playing a show in Japan where he slipped, hit his head, bled, played the show anyway, and later got X-rays taken to make sure nothing was wrong with him in the end.

“Hiroshima,” a song about a slip, was somehow appropriate on this night of many slip-ups. The chorus of “They’re watching me, watching me fall” somehow made me feel like I was watching Ben Folds confess to me and to everyone else at the Beacon tonight that we were watching these guys in some weak moments. But, honestly, “Hiroshima” is a really catchy song, and whether or not we’re watching Ben Folds’ falls and flaws as he performs more sophisticated material doesn’t matter if we’re having a good time anyway. This is rock music: it’s okay to be sloppy. In fact, when it comes to rocking out, it’s pretty authentic to be far from perfect.

But, there was another level in which I was shocked by the power of this potentially insipid song. Those words “watching me fall” reminded me of how traditional Judaism has a ritual for public falling: Tachanun. Tachanun, literally the “Appeasement” service, is recited most week-days of the year in the morning and afternoon, and, usually when Tachanun is recited, it is marked by the worshiper falling in public—but also rising up again.

Upon reciting “Vayyomer david el gad [David said to Gad,]: Tzar li me’od, nippelah nah veyad Adonai [I’m very troubled; let us fall into the Hand of God],” the worshiper traditionally bends over and places her or his head into a hand.

The worshiper then sits up straight while speaking of Shomer Yisra’el (The Guardian of Israel), gaining assurance that the worshiper will engage in his or her endeavors safely (even if not without error).

With this buildup of security, the worshiper stands up and admits, “Va’anachnu lo neda mah na’aseh [We don’t know what we’re doing].” Although Tachanun is usually recited by the individuals in the prayer space, I think it is no accident that this line is in the plural “We.” It is only after we recognize our weaknesses that we can stand in public; being secure and safe doesn’t mean that we must be sure. As Ben sang in the chorus of another song earlier on in tonight’s setlist, “It’s okay if you don’t know everything.”

I’m a huge Ben Folds fan, and I’m not writing this as a criticism so much as a response to something beautiful I learned tonight. Ben has a lot of beautiful and fantastic songs with many intricacies, and pulling them off night after night (or just on a one-night gig) is not easy. The mistakes are okay, and flaws even have a unique beauty about them.

Though we all fall in public, we must realize that in public we’re in good company—in good hands—and we can stand together in our imperfections. We can’t be perfect in what we do, but we can know that we’re in good standing when we try to have a good time when trying our best.

There were moments tonight when the band might have given off a vibe of nervousness, but they were clearly released from all stresses during the silliness of songs like “Hiroshima” and “Zak and Sara,” and, after trying to synch up the lights with the claps in “Annie Waits,” the lighting person loosened up and jokingly shined the lights long after the beat had gone away. We’re always watching each other fall, but we can find security in knowing how flawed we each are. Va’anachnu lo neda mah na’aseh. But you know what? It’s okay if you don’t know everything.

*FUN FACT: Despite popular misconception, Ben Folds Five had only three members (when counting Ben Folds as one).

**FUN FACT: The full title of the song is actually “Hiroshima (B-B-B-Benny Hit His Head).”