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Album review
Manu Chao
Next station : Hope
15/06/2001 -
So, it's 1, 2, 3 for Manu Chao! OK, so purists will argue that Proxima estacion : esperanza is in fact the second solo album by the former frontman of La Mano Negra, the sequel to Chao's international cult classic Clandestino (Virgin, 1998), which has sold over 3 million copies to date. But, in our humble opinion, the Clandestino trilogy really began with Casa Babylon (Virgin, 1994), the fourth and final album of Manu's old group La Mano Negra. Take another listen to Casa Babylon and you'll find the same omnipresence of Castilian phrases, the same fascination with Latin American culture and the same expertly-crafted collage of street sounds. The one major difference between Casa Babylon and Clandestino and Esperanza however, is, the strong presence of electric guitars on the former. But, as Manu has proved, it's only a matter of instrumentation – he's just as capable as the rest of the world's rockers of serving up the "unplugged" version!
Proxima estacion : esperanza has the same easy charm as its predecessor, the same lilting melodies and child-like refrains which burrow into the brain and lodge there for weeks. Take the two obsessive chords played over and over on Me gustas tu – 100% pure Chao! And what miracle of melody, rhythm and sound collage (not to mention the plaintive tones of Castilian) make Me gustas tu such compulsive listening? When it comes down to it, the song (and its two simple repetitive notes) says nothing more than “I love the wind, marijuana, the mountains etc./ I love you/ What time is it, my darling?” And yet it works! Take it from us, after a couple of listens, you're hooked!
The inimitable reggae beats of Merry Blues provide another high point of Proxima estacion : esperanza. And Manu performs another modern-day miracle, singing the blues in English in a high-pitched voice, just as he does on Promiscuity. How has a French singer managed to pull off the staggering feat of singing in English with a heavily nasal Mexican accent and not make his listeners fall about laughing? Once again, it's 100% pure Chao!
Following on in the pleasantly hypnotic vein of his new album, Chao serves up more infectious rhythms on Denia, a song whose powerful melody line packs the same hard-hitting punch as Aït Menguellet or Idir. And as for the luscious jazz soundscape on the double-track Trapped by Love/ Le rendez-vous, all we can say is: simply superb! Chao obviously had a whale of a time preparing his new album in the studio, experimenting with sound collage and repetitive loops and recycling his favourite gimmicks (such as the Je ne t’aime plus loop used to great effect on Clandestino). And his strength lies in communicating the pleasure he takes in making an album to his listeners.
Who is Manu Chao? 
Manuel Chao was born in the 15th arrondissement in Paris on June 21st 1961, but he spent his formative childhood years growing up in Sèvres, one of the city's western suburbs. Manu was stimulated by an intellectual Latin atmosphere at home. His father, Ramon Chao, is a much-published writer and Latin American editor at Radio France Internationale. His paternal grandparents were Republicans who fled Franco's dictatorship in Spain and eventually settled in France. Manu launched his music career in 1977, forming his own group Joint de Culasse. Manu's group played a mix of rock hits from the 50s and 60s, their concerts often revolving around covers of Chuck Berry classics. “We were the local neighbourhood band, Manu told a journalist from French rock magazine Les Inrockuptibles in May '94, "Every now and then we'd try and throw in a couple of covers of stuff by the Stooges, but to be honest that never went down too well!”
50s and 60s rock influences were soon swept away by a more radical movement blowing in from across the Channel. Manu and his band discovered the anarchic joys of punk and signed up as committed fans of Stiff Little Fingers and The Clash. In 1981 they scrapped Joint de Culasse and reinvented themselves as Les Hot Pants, recruiting Manu's cousin, Santiago Casariego, as their drummer. Retaining a hint of rockabilly (or should that be 'rhythm’n’blues on mezcal?), Manu and the Hot Pants sought inspiration from early Clash hits (particularly in evidence on African Witch). The group built up a fervent following of fans on Paris's alternative music scene and the Spanish underground and went on to record their one and only album together in 1986. (Fifteen years on Loco mosquito still thrills with vibrant rhythms and an infectious mix of Spanish and English vocals!)
Adopted as a punk figurehead on the alternative Parisian scene, Manu went on to play with indie heroes Los Carayos, a group that also included another legendary indie figure François Hadji-Lazaro (future frontman of Les Garçons Bouchers). Later Chao would also "lend" his Hot Pant musicians to Daniel Jeanrenaud and the Kingsnakes (a group hot back from a tour of the States where they had rubbed shoulders with Chuck Berry and the Flamin' Groovies). Then, in 1986 Les Hot Pants split and reformed themselves as La Mano Negra, recruiting Manu's brother Tonio Chao (on trumpet), while his cousin Santiago, aka Santi, retained his role as drummer/rhythm master.
And thus it was that the saga of the greatest punk band to emerge from the Paris suburbs began. It was Manu who laid the foundations of La Mano Negra's radical new sound which he dubbed Patchanka – aka a tumultuous Franco-Spanish-North-African fusion of rock, ska, salsa, Flamenco and Raï. In fact, the group seemed to throw anything and everything into their musical mix, bowing to only one proviso: it had to explode on stage! La Mano Negra went on to release their first single, La zarzamora, on François Hadji-Lazaro's label Boucherie Productions at the end of 1987. And a debut album followed swiftly on its heels. Patchanka, a cross between Clash-style punk and South American and Mediterranean rhythms, put Manu's musical theories into practice. Highlights included the vibrantly energetic Ronde de nuit (which sounded very close in spirit to alternative French band Bérurier Noir) and the single Mala vida, a manic Hispanic manifesto spiked with trumpets and squealing brass.
The French alternative/punk movement peaked and enjoyed its moment of glory in 1988 – but mainstream fame also signalled the demise of the indie spirit. Anarchic sounds had become a profitable business. And with counterculture bands such as Bérurier Noir, Les Satellites, OTH and La Mano packing out concert halls and recording cheaply-made but best-selling albums, it would not be long before the majors swooped in. When Mano Negra left Boucherie Productions and signed to Virgin in 1989 many saw it as the catalyst that led to the implosion of the alternative movement. “If La Mano and Les Satellites had gone on being independent for another year," declared Loran (from Bérurier Noir) in September 1989, two months before the group's final concert, the indie movement could have brought the majors to their knees! But we realised it was impossible to wage a cultural revolution in France … So we got the hell out of it all. We're François and Loran, two individuals, not a marketing product!"
La Mano Negra released their second album on Virgin in 1989. Entitled Puta’s fever – and, musically speaking, a sort of twin brother to Patchanka – the album scored a double whammy, pulling off the feat of remaining true to La Mano's indie spirit and being commercially successful at the same time. The group pumped out raw energy, infectious melodies and explosive Latin brass fanfares, causing a mainstream stir with Pas assez de toi and their punk/Raï anthem Sidi H’Bibi (recorded in Arabic, of course, to piss off supporters of the Gulf War). Puta’s fever went on to sell over 500,000 copies world-wide and in 1990 La Mano, at the height of their fame, were flown out to the U.S. to support Iggy Pop on tour. But La Mano failed to click with American audiences. Disillusioned after their U.S. tour, the group soon turned their back on the North and started looking towards South America instead. 
Bringing out a follow-up to Puta's fever proved to be no easy business. La Mano made a valiant attempt in 1991 with their third album, King of Bongo (featuring the excellent King Kong Five), but the group felt themselves going stale. It was time to seize the initiative and do something radical again. And the group did just that in the spring of '92, setting off on a six-month tour of Central and South America with Operation Cargo. La Mano's alternative way of celebrating the 500th anniversary of the discovery of America was to charter an old cargo boat, transform the hold into a stage-cum-replica of a street in Nantes, and set sail with alternative street theatre troupe Royal de Luxe and French choreographer Philippe Decouflé. The cargo boat and its merry crew were to stop off in every major port all the way from Latin America to Cuba – and, needless to say, were greeted by a massive turn-out everywhere they played!
La Mano carried off another coup in the winter of '93, interrupting the recording of their fourth album to tour across war-torn Colombia on a rickety old train. This new adventure on the "Train de glace" replayed elements of their South American tour in '92, the group playing concerts with local musicians and street performers, indulging in impromptu jam sessions and stopping off to do the odd bit of recording with their portable studio. La Mano's fourth album Casa Babylon was deeply imbued with the group's nomadic spirit. "The album's essentially made up of spontaneous jams which were reworked afterwards in the studio," Manu told a journalist from Les Inrockuptibles in May '94. "Casa Babylon is a totally cosmopolitan album, which we recorded in the course of our travels."
In fact, Casa Babylon went down in music history as La Mano Negra's last album and Manu Chao's first. The group split up shortly after the release of the album and Manu went on to form his new multi-cultural band, Radio Bemba, in Barcelona in 1996. Over the next two years the singer spent time motorbiking round Galicia with his father and also indulged in lengthy solo trips, hiking round Rio, Bogota, Mexico, Buenos Aires and Africa with his portable studio, recording vibrant street sounds and bursts of live music as he went. These were to form the backbone of his 1998 album Clandestino.
And the rest, of course, is history! The 16 infectiously-rhythmed, multi-lingual sound collages on Clandestino (twelve in Spanish, two in French, one in Portuguese and one in English) caught on like wildfire and before long music fans around the globe were humming the refrains to Je ne t’aime plus and the album's title track Clandestino. Word-of-mouth recommendations boosted Clandestino to such an extent that the album topped all previous sales records in France, selling a staggering 3 million copies (1 million at home and 2 million in Europe and South America).
Meanwhile, Manu the nomadic continent-wanderer continues his meandering career. After performing to a 150,000-strong crowd of Mexicans in Zocalo Square (who had turned out to show their support for Zapatista leader Commandant Marcos), Manu recently relocated to Barcelona and reactivated his old band Radio Bemba. As to what the future holds for multi-lingual, multi-cultural star Chao now, who knows? But one thing's for sure, the next station on his route's called hope!
Jean-Claude Demari
We believe in bringing you the full spectrum of opinions on RFI Musique. So here, as an interesting counterpoint to Jean-Claude Demari's rave review, Jean-Jacques Dufayet casts an altogether more critical eye on Proxima estacion : esperanza.
Over the past twelve years – in his role as charismatic frontman of la Mano Negra as well as a celebrated solo artist in his own right - Manu Chao has established himself as far and away the most innovative creator on the Paris music scene.
Which, to be honest, left us doubly disappointed and perplexed when listening to Manu's new album! The majority of French music journalists appeared to be somewhat confused too, coming up with the (paradoxical or tongue-in-cheek?) claim that Proxima estacion : esperanza is a totally original album "which follows on in exactly the same vein as Manu's last one! ". You can't really blame them for fumbling for words, though. After all, it's no easy business shouting "genius!" or "masterpiece!" when, if they were to be perfectly honest with themselves (and their readers), Proxima estacion : esperanza is a simple rehash of Clandestino.(Let's face it, much of Clandestino's genius lay in the fact that Manu's nomadic sound collages were utterly new and unexpected the first time round!)
Of course, there's no law forcing musicians – even the most creative ones on the contemporary scene – to come up with a brilliant new album every three years. (Apart from a certain clause in their recording contract, that is). Which makes it all the more unreasonable for Manu Chao, a man renowned for his independent mind and alternative spirit, to rush into the recording studio to work on a remake of Clandestino. Chao's behaviour is all the more incomprehensible as, given the phenomenal sales of the latter, he is not exactly faced with pressing financial problems either!
In short, listeners (or should we say record-buyers?) who slip Proxima estacion : esperanza onto their CD turntable have every right to feel they've been swindled out of 120 francs. It's hardly a necessary purchase for anyone who's been playing Clandestino as backing music to their life over the past 36 months! OK, we hear you say, but millions of people have rushed out and bought far worse albums than this for 120 francs. Point conceded! But we have to say, the last thing we wanted was to find Manu Chao releasing a banal album, involved in a banal promotion campaign, getting a banal reception from the French media – and being made to look like a totally banal type of guy when he's anything but!
In my humble opinion, any pleasure to be gained from listening to Proxima estacion : esperanza is totally wiped out by an overriding impression of "déjà entendu". Yes, we've understood that repetitive loops and recycling is part of Manu's 'knowing' collage style (c.f. Mr Bobby). But Monsieur Chao should bear in mind that the opposite of demagogy is not necessarily "taking the piss" (as his friend Commandant Marcos might say)!
Jean-Jacques Dufayet
Manu Chao Proxima estacion : Esperanza (Virgin)
Hot Pants Loco mosquito (re-released on Virgin)
05/10/2010 -
31/10/2007 -
03/09/2007 -
13/02/2004 -
06/09/2002 -
22/11/2000 -
