Why the World Needs Manu Chao

11Nov09

Can we have a time-out or a do-over? I don’t really need an apology for the Pussycat Dolls. I just want the music industry to regain its innovation, its verve, its oomph. I’d like to listen to the radio and not be so irritated that I want to pummel it and any other nearby appliances.

Music has become homogenized and stagnant, a product of the same stale ingredients. Abroad, many American artists break into the foreign markets and command a healthy following. Stateside, practically nil is heard of the thousands of international artists that make up the global pulse.

Now, when that diversity, that breath of fresh air, is more vital than ever, we keep the music narrow.

…

My best professors of hope were in the ghettos of South America or Africa. These guys are in a situation 10,000 times worse than mine, or than other first-world individuals, but they got more hope than anybody. When you are in a ghetto of South America, you cannot afford depression. You have your children to feed everyday. So you have to go out on the street to feed your children. There is no time for depression. So, hope.

Paris-born and of Spanish descent, Manu Chao is arguably the best-known world music artist this side of the Milky Way.

He is a restless troubadour rarely in one city long enough to visit all of his friends. He sings in French, Spanish, Galician, Portuguese, Italian, Arabic, English and Wolof. He weaves sound bytes from Subcomandante Marcos into his music, indicative of his longtime support for the Zapatistas in Chiapas, Mexico.

During his stint with the multi-cultural and highly popular Mano Negra, he toured South America by both cargo ship and train, performing on each conveyance to audiences of campesinos and guerrillas.

He still busks in Barcelona, doesn’t own a cell phone, and brushes off industry temptations to sell his songs off for Nike commercials or to crash late night after-parties with Kanye West.

Manu is a star by not giving a shit about stardom. He took his cues from the best.

‘Every time I met any of my heroes I was disappointed – the exception was [The Clash's] Joe Strummer, who was like an uncle to me. The last time I saw him was at a festival in Japan, sleeping out in the woods, jamming by a fire and putting on little tapes he’d made to keep the atmosphere going.’

‘Joe absolutely adored Manu’s music and was a friend,’ says Strummer’s widow, Lucinda. ‘I met him once with Joe at the Shepherds Bush Empire, in 2002, and there was lots of excitement when Joe turned up before the gig – attempting to speak to Manu in his broken Spanish.’ (Full article here.)

A product of an immigrant community, Manu grew up listening to a mishmash of musical styles. Blending Latin, punk, rockabilly, ska, folk, pop, reggae, African, jazz, rap and flamenco music came naturally for a guy who also shifts between languages on each song.

His unique musical leanings have dispatched him to everywhere from Tijuana to Bamako, and as he traveled, he became angry. Angry about the poverty and the injustices, the lack of action by the governments, the senseless suffering. But he transforms that anger into something positive. In Manu’s mind, it’s too easy to become a nihilist or a cynic. Optimism is what the people need.

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I knew about activism prior to becoming a fan. I rallied around Amnesty International as a teenager. I sneered at American extravagance out of concern for the world’s poor. I wrote to my congressmen. I wore the t-shirts and bought the bumper stickers.

But increasingly the crusade felt empty. Without learning more about the world at large, I couldn’t fully understand the cause. I’d remain nothing more than a misguided radical.

Manu Chao filled that void in my life. This diminutive man with the messy hair and rumpled clothing reported the lessons of his travels – stories from the disenfranchised, the underprivileged, and the silenced – through masterfully crafted ditties of protest and hope.

This call-up is a responsibility that Manu doesn’t take lightly. He knows his fame connects him to the ears of millions. But he also knows that his public role means he must speak for those who cannot. He must make his time at the mic count.

Injustice. War. Heartbreak. Boogey Men. Immigration. Soccer stars. Environment. Prostitutes. Globalization. Tolerance. Revolution. Peace.

Manu Chao concert crowds are mini-U.N. assemblies, swarms of people from various ethnic groups chanting, cheering, jumping, dancing barefoot, and waving their respective national flags.

It doesn’t matter that only alternating sections of the crowd understand the words of any given song at any given time. They understand the energy. They understand that despite our differences or allegiances the music shrinks the space between us. The music equalizes our human distortions.

You won’t likely find a moderate Manu Chao fan. You either run into people who have never heard of him, or you run into Manu Chao disciples gleaming with loyalty so intense the total wattage could power all of the favelas in his beloved Rio de Janeiro.

He challenges us to wake up, to participate in the world, to see the horizon past our neatly trimmed lawns or favorite radio station.

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We have tightened our national borders so much it’s easy to forget that music or life or anything exists outside of our “Party in the USA” borders.

It’s easy to forget that residents in far off places also share our journey. They also love until it hurts, laugh at a good prank, ache for a hungry child, fuck up relationships, want a chance to be heard, and enjoy a good backbeat.

Perhaps we should TiVo ourselves for a change and tune in to the regularly scheduled broadcasts of Anywhere But Here.

Perhaps we should widen our aperture, tear down all barriers, physical or otherwise, and take a hard look into the eyes of others without our nationalistic filters.

Perhaps we should listen to Manu Chao.

This question, they ask me very often: can music change the world? It can help. But it’s not a question only of musicians. Now the situation is so bad, we need musicians, we need taxi drivers, we need fishermen, we need students, we need the workers. We need everybody. We need all of society; we don’t only need the musicians. That’s not enough.

…

Bixo/El Dorado:
(Hybrid of Portuguese/Basque slang set to Latin trumpets)

•

Ronde De Nuit:
(French punk)

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Me Llaman Calle:
(Spanish with flamenco guitars)

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Santa Maradona:
(French rap/metal)

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Peligro:
(Spanish reggae)

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A Cosa:
(Italian/French/Spanish folk)

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Denia:
(Arabic and French folk)

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Señor Matanza:
(Spanish reggaeton/dance)

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M’Bife Blues (w/Amadou & Mariam)
(Wolof/French blues…and beautiful)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Filed under: Music, Musings   |  22 Comments
Tags: culture, Inspiration, Joe Strummer, Mano Negra, Manu Chao, Music, music diversity, Musings, world music, Writing