Keane is right up there with Editors and Kasabian when it comes to UK bands that never really seemed to resonate in the US like they did back home. Some people in the States will know of them, quite possibly own an album or two, but they don't seem to get much airplay or even name recognition. In the UK, however, if you were to say, "Keane who?" you would promptly be asked what rock you had been living under.
I'll never forget standing under the cloudy England sky at dusk on a summer's eve, in the middle of an open field packed with people, all facing an enormous stage while a cool mist kissed our faces. Keane was a headliner at the Reading Festival that year, and while on stage they seemed completely dazzled by their own fame - so exhilarated, and yet so humble.
My friend, Charlie, turned to me at the time and said, "They can't believe they're here right now." Almost immediately afterward, the main camera zoomed in on Tom Chaplin, Keane's frontman, and caught him with an enormous, boyish grin, shaking his head in disbelief as he looked out at the crowd. "See?" Charlie said, with a smile.
Tom's songwriting is simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting, and this song is one of the better examples of just that. Every time I think my heart has been transformed to a blackened piece of coal, I just have to listen to this song and I'm reminded of my own humanness again.
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