There are those for whom crassly commercialized music festivals aren’t their cup of tea. Pity that not every one of these people could have seen internationally known Manu Chao performing on a beautiful evening at the Embarcadero Marina South on July 30.
Those unfamiliar with Chao shouldn’t feel too bad, for he has achieved incredible success while largely avoiding America. Sure, it was just himself and his band, along with thousands of ecstatic fans, as opposed to a blitzkrieg of MTV pretty faces, but just know this: Chao packed more passion and energy into every single one of his songs than most bands can do in an entire concert: This wasn’t a performer going through the numbers, performing lame versions of glossed-up studio-doctored tracks by star producers for teenyboppers with disposable income. This was all real, and it was so powerful and uplifting that it was darn near spiritual.
For those who are unfamiliar with Manu Chao, a little debriefing: Raised in Paris by a Basque mother and Galician father who fled Spain under Franco’s dictatorship, Manu, heavily influenced at the time by The Clash and the UK punk scene, formed Mano Negra with his brother and cousin after a series of early bands. Incorporating a heavy political message with hard, fast rock, Mano Negra enjoyed huge success in Europe and Central and South America. The band even chose to tour several war-torn countries in these regions. However, the group eventually disbanded.
Picking up the pieces, as well as some former band members of Mano Negra, Chao spent several years traveling throughout Central and South America cultivating a burgeoning interest in the sounds of street and bar music of various cultures. The result was a solo effort, “Clandestino,” in 1998, which incorporated heavy sampling, a skillful blending of rock, reggae, salsa, ska and Algerian rai. He sang in French, Spanish, English, Arabic, Galician, Portuguese and even West African Wolof, often in the same song, and incorporated a strong leftist and anti-globalization message. The album was hugely successful throughout much of the world. He followed it up with “Proxima Estacion: Esperanza” (“Next Station: Hope”) in 2001 to similar acclaim. While he rarely tours in the U.S., he nonetheless scheduled a date in San Diego, presumably to draw from his large and beloved Tijuana-based audience, a city for whom he has written songs.
The venue, as large as it is, appeared filled to capacity, as lines seemed to only give way to more lines. Bartenders were losing their heads as an endless number of concertgoers packed the bar prior to the show. Soon, a Latin drumbeat so infectious that the crowd stormed the stage came on, as the band entered one by one. Lastly, Manu appeared to start the show with a blistering, invigorating, impossibly catchy first number. At that moment, the world seemed to be having a party to which everyone was invited “” such is the feeling generated by his music. His rootsy brand of music seems unrelentingly passionate as smiling fans jumped, chanted along and danced from the get-go and never let up. Though his lyrics serve as a constant reminder of the real-life injustices and horror taking place throughout the world, his tunes are actually very uplifting and soulful as he also seems to offer hope to the listeners as well. And just when the roof feels like it’s about to explode, on a dime his band switches gears and drops the coolest reggae riff and simmers the crowd down. After a few minutes and just as instantly as before, they all hit double-time as the band and the audience jump up and down as one.
Mind you, his songs weren’t regurgitated versions of his album tracks. Those use so much sampling and overdubbing that re-creating them in person would take a gargantuan-size band. Manu instead reworked all of his songs, giving them a different flavor or pairing familiar lyrics with a different, if already familiar, beat. Other times he just created a whole new melody or masterfully reinterpreted it from a salsa-flavored track into a reggae song, making his performance all the more interesting and engaging.
At one point, someone in the crowd threw a Mexican tricolor blanket on stage, which literally hit Manu as he was performing. He proceeded to actually wear it around his shoulders for the next few songs before tying it around his waist as best he could. The gesture was serendipitous as he soon precluded his knowingly ironic “Welcome to Tijuana” with the most beautiful of Spanish-style love songs about the city. And throughout the evening, he often asked “Que pasa Tijuana?” before asking it of San Diego.
The only knock on Chao’s performance is his reliance on the formula of simply double-timing it toward the end of nearly every song to finish in a high note. It was a bit fatiguing by the 10th song, but the band never fell flat or lost their spark.
And just when the crowd thought he was done, he came back for more “” at least three times. Indeed, Manu played for two and a half hours altogether. Even when his second exit seemed to be his final one, with band members leaving the stage one by one until the guitarist is left all alone plucking the catchiest of melodies, on comes Manu and the band again for another set.
Chao’s performance was made all the more unforgettable considering that he is regarded as aloof by almost everyone. While he’s embarking on a nationwide tour of only a select few cities in America this summer, his next date might well be back in Tijuana “” just a few miles south of his recent performance, but with the same adoring, ecstatic crowd.
