Buenos Aires
22/11/2000 -
A summer evening breeze wafts through the San Telmo neighbourhood in Buenos Aires, cooling the inhabitants of the calle Venezuela. A giant banner suspended above an old grocery shop flutters in the breeze, marking the inauguration of H.I.J.O.S*'s new headquarters. The children of Argentina's 'Missing' cluster around Manu Chao inside.
"Manu, when are you going to come up and have a quiet chat with us?", asks Lucila, cradling a new-born baby in her arms. Manu, sporting a Che Guevara badge and looking a tiny bit stressed by his schedule, smiles and answers, "Wednesday, I think I'll have a bit of spare time before I leave!" Meanwhile, the 'Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo' are crowding round Manu too, eager to tell the singer about their own experiences. Caught up in the middle of the crowd, Manu listens seriously to everyone, as yet more people pile into the room and attempt to attract his attention by pulling his sleeve. We finally manage to attract the singer's attention ourselves and he accords us a quick 15-minute interview, slotting us in between "Cruz Negra" (a support group for political prisoners in Uruguay) and a local transvestites' association.
Manu, the last time you were in Argentina was when you came out to Rosario six months ago. Do you find things have changed since then?
(Dipping his head towards the ground). The country's plunging into crisis at a dizzying rate. It's got the Latin American disease. In fact, you can see tension mounting in the streets each day. When you look at Latin America as a whole, there's not one country where the situation is improving and we're getting to a stage now where conditions are unbearable. It's not a question of politics any more, but of simple day-to-day survival. A lot of people are trying to do something to stop the impending economic disaster, but the problem is they're not united. And the only way out of this situation, as far as I can see, is for people to get together and present a united front. If we don't do that, we'll end up in the shit …
What does going on tour mean to you?
When I'm on tour concerts are a kind of excuse to get out there in the streets and meet people. Concerts involve an exchange of emotions between the performer and the audience. They're a way of reaching the soul of a country. I think if you want to face up to reality, to what's really going on in the world, you've continually got to get out there and see things for yourself. And you need a bit of free time too, so you can go out and do things like play football on Saturday morning down in La Boca - that's definitely been one of the highlights of my stay in Buenos Aires this time. The way I see things, being able to travel is a great privilege. It's really the best 'school of life'. You learn much more than you ever could at any university!
Do you consider yourself to be a politically committed singer?
In my own way, yes. But when I travel around and I see people really getting involved in causes and political struggles, I don't think I do that much really. I mean, when you look at what the Indians are doing in Chiapas and the political prisoners in Chile ... Well, I can't really say I do that much compared to them.
What do you do to keep your hopes up and maintain your faith in change?
Well, there's only one life-saver in this situation and that's hope - hope and strength to look for a way out! Basically, we're involved in a struggle against time. If you hope to change things you've got to give off a lot of energy. You've got to energise people around you, people in your neighbourhood. I've just come over from Uruguay and I was really impressed with what was going on over there. There are lots of local community radio stations bringing people together.
What projects do you have lined up with Radio Bemba? (The name of Manu's current group, Radio Bemba, means Word of Mouth).
There's nothing in the pipeline at the moment. We play each tour as if it were the last. That's our way of keeping fresh! I mean, we could easily programme enough concerts to pack up the next three years. But we play best when we're motivated by a real desire to get up on stage - and how are we supposed to know how we'll be feeling in six months' time?
Doing concerts when we've got no real desire to play would be the worst thing that could possibly happen to us! It's the same as tours, we play each concert as if it were the last. After that we'll let our intuition guide us and go with the flow. So, no, there's nothing definite in the pipeline for the moment, apart from continuing work on the next album ...
Would you say there's something a bit "Clandestino" about your lifestyle?
Yes, because of all the travelling, I guess. The way I live it's difficult to lead a normal life and have a circle of permanent friends and close family. I have one enormous family stretched across the world. The way I see it, there are people I'll only get to meet once in my life. If we meet up, that's great, if not, that's OK too, we'll send each other a fax! What's important to me is that nothing is planned in advance. I like being on the move. Next year, I'm thinking of going to live in Rio for a while!
What motivated you to be here tonight?
Well, you can see what a great festive atmosphere there is for a start! And I feel it's right for me to be here with the 'Children of The Missing' - I've been in contact with them for a long time now, meeting up in Barcelona, Mendoza, Cordoba and Chile. I've got to go off and see them now, in fact …
Outside, spokesmen from a string of human rights associations are taking it in turns to address the crowd. Manu leaps up on stage and grabs the mike, shouting "Buenos Aires, what's going down in your streets tonight?". The narrow street in front of him is packed with hundreds of young Argentine music fans who answer him with one voice. Warming to his audience, Manu breaks into a string of his hits, playing Clandestino, Bongo Bong, Welcome to Tijuana and the Buena Vista Social Club classic Candela. Throughout the concert, the walls of the surrounding buildings are lit up with giant slides of street protests and demonstrations.
Leaping about in the streets, hanging off balconies or shouting from the rooftops, the young members of H.I.J.O.S* are singing, dancing and celebrating Manu's arrival. And their shining eyes say it all - they still can't believe Manu Chao, the man whom the local press have dubbed the "Free Gringo", is up there playing for them tonight!
*H.I.J.O.S: (Sons and Daughters of the Missing fighting for Identity and Justice and against Forgetfulness and Silence)
Claude Mary
Translation : Julie Street
05/10/2010 -
10/06/2008 -
31/10/2007 -
03/09/2007 -
13/02/2004 -
06/09/2002 -
15/06/2001 -