Monday, October 01, 2007

http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,2180695,00.html

The wild rover



Is global superstar Manu Chao about to crack Britain? By Garth Cartwright

Monday October 1, 2007
The Guardian


Tucked away in Barcelona's medieval backstreets, Bar Mariatchi is heaving with dogs, dreadlocks and punters. The area is a reminder that Catalonia's chic capital is still a working port. It is also home to Manu Chao - the musician who may best represent rock'n'roll on a global scale. As he enters the bar, Chao nods to the musicians jamming in a corner, and orders a liqueur. "This is my office," he says.

Chao, 46, is wiry and tousle-haired, with the look of a mischievous schoolboy. Across much of the globe, he is a pop superstar - in Latin nations, his impact is comparable to that of the Beatles and Bob Dylan combined. And his ragged, hybrid sound - he layers Latin and African melodies over driving rhythms, adding anything from mariachi horns to telephone sounds and laughter - has inspired much devotion and countless imitators. So far Britain has remained resistant to his charms. But with Chao's new album, La Radiolina, attracting enthusiastic reviews, and his imminent UK tour selling out quickly, that may be about to change.

Born José-Manuel Chao in Paris to Spanish Republican parents who had fled Franco, Chao grew up in a household filled with music and radical politics. He and his cousin formed Hot Pants, a rockabilly combo, in the early 1980s; with the addition of Manu's brother, the group evolved into eclectic punk outfit Mano Negra in 1987. "We snuck into a show by [Irish punk band] Stiff Little Fingers and it was a revelation," he says. "'Wow! This is pure rock'n'roll!' That opened the door."

Mano Negra's live performances were wild celebrations, and Chao retains their anarchic spirit. "Even when everyone says, 'Go this way,' if instinct tells me to go another, I do. With Mano Negra, the record company were telling us there was strong interest in the US, but we said, 'No, we're off to Latin America.' They screamed, 'Commercial suicide' - but it turned out for the best."

Touring South America by cargo boat and train in the early 1990s won the band respect, yet it also tore them apart. Chao went backpacking, recording his 1998 debut solo album, Clandestino, on his laptop as he went. The album was an exotic musical collage, with lyrics in Spanish, French, Portuguese and English. As Chao's keen melodies, quirky arrangements and busker guitar-strum punched home, it also managed to convey that rare thing: the sound of surprise and enjoyment.

Chao's songs often have serious concerns: Clandestino's title track is a meditation on migrants to the west. "I wrote it about the border between Europe and those coming from poorer nations. Look around - maybe 30% of the people in this street are clandestino [illegal]. It's a decade since I wrote it, and things have gotten worse. The Berlin Wall came down and we all cheered, but now walls are going up: Palestine, the US, the EU. Look at the number of people who die trying to cross from Africa into Europe."

Clandestino sold 5m copies, surprising everyone. Yet Chao returned to wandering. "I've got what we call culo inquieto - a worried ass! I'm always busy. The idea of just touring an album for years - that destroys the freshness, the joy of making music. I like to go places, meet people, not be tied down."

After a second album - the sun-soaked, optimistic Próxima Estación: Esperanza, released in 2001 - matched Clandestino's international success, Chao immersed himself in a variety of projects. He produced blind Malian duo Amadou & Mariam's album Dimanche à Bamako, headlined a series of huge anti-war events, championed prostitutes' rights and spent some time seeking out street musicians.

"I'm working on an album featuring these guys who run a radio station from a Buenos Aires psychiatric institution," he says. "And [Bosnian director] Emir Kusturica has got me contributing to a film he's making on Maradona. I spent two days with Diego in Naples, and my first reaction is, 'It's not easy being Maradona.' Too much pressure. But he's happy among his people. He's not living in the past or looking at the future; he's absolutely engaged with today."

La Radiolina, Chao's first album in six years, features a song written for Maradona, La Vida Tómbola (A Life of Chance). "It's a song about destiny. What better example than Diego as to the ups and downs of life?" The album is tougher and angrier than his previous releases, with Chao reverting to the punk-rock guitar style of his youth.

Chao remains one of the few musicians who can fill stadiums while remaining an activist. "Everyone should be an activist," he says."The world's getting worse and we all need to engage in making things better. Just don't call me a leader. Leaders get corrupted. And don't call me 'world music' - that's a neo-colonial label you British and Americans like to use for music not sung in English."

And with that, Chao grabs his guitar and heads for the musicians jamming away in the corner of his office.

· Manu Chao is at Brixton Academy, London (0905 020 3999), tomorrow, Thursday and Friday, then tours. La Radiolina is out now on Because.

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