Manu Chao: the happiness and anguish of the musician who mocks the system | Culture

Manu Chao does have a mobile phone. Perhaps this information is confirmed to this newspaper by the French musician Jean Michel Dercourt, aka Gambeat (“Of course he does: I communicate with him via WhatsApp”), may seem inconsequential to those who have not had to face this elusive, unfathomable, complex and contradictory character, of whom it has often been said that “he doesn’t even have a telephone” to underline how isolated he is from the world. These days, Manu Chao (Paris, 63 years old) steps back into that system from which he so flees. And not only because we have found out that he writes whatsapp, but because he publishes an album, titled Long live your (without an accent), the first full-length album in 17 years. Why this change in a roadmap that is based on turning one’s back on the rules imposed by the music industry? From now on, those who know him well will speak out…

Because one thing is to fold to package an album and another to assume the pack Complete: Chao’s new album will be heard on all platforms starting September 20, but the musician will not give interviews, will not hold press conferences, will not go on a conventional tour… No, no and no. English writer and musician Peter Culshaw knows the French artist well. They traveled together for five years through Africa, Galicia, Colombia and the United Kingdom. The result of this experience can be read in Clandestine. In search of Manu Chao, written by Culshaw. “Maybe your manager“Manu, after so much insistence, convinced him to release the album,” Culshaw says ironically over the phone, to justify this change of direction after 17 years. “Although, in reality, Manu is difficult to convince: he is a very stubborn guy, I assure you. Maybe he needs the money and that is why he has released the album. He has a complex and neurotic relationship with money. ‘Money is the root of all evil’, he says, but money also buys freedom, which is very valuable to him.”

Precisely an example of this complicated balance between what Manu Chao is and how he should act was exemplified by Culshaw himself, when he revealed, causing a heated debate among the Frenchman’s followers, that the author of I like you bought a first class plane ticket to record with the Trinidadian Calypso Rose performer. For some, the authenticity that the character inspires does not link him to choosing to travel under the comforts that capitalism offers to those who have a lot of money. “I didn’t see any problem with him flying first class, but many assumed that this decision went against Manu’s narrative,” explains Culshaw.

To understand the narrative The anecdote told by the French bassist Gambeat, with whom our protagonist has experienced a thousand battles in 28 years playing in concerts, both with Mano Negra and in his solo stage, is also true. “During a tour in South America, the organization of a festival put us up in a five-star hotel. Manu was angry when he saw so much luxury: the rooms were enormous, the beds were 2×2 meters and very high, gigantic televisions, a sauna in the room, an office… In short, everything was excessive. He immediately asked the manager “Manu was very busy with the road to change hotels and take us to the poor and working class neighborhoods. It was very late and we were all exhausted from the trip and the concert, but we preferred something more basic to spend the night. After changing hotels, Manu improvised a small concert in the middle of the street. This reflects his closeness to the people, and his desire to stay connected to reality, regardless of the success he has achieved,” says Sambeat. Playing in bars, interacting with street musicians, mixing with people who get up early to work, finding out about the problems of suffering citizens, helping financially and emotionally… All those consulted point to these actions as part of the driving force of Chao’s life. But it was not always like this…

Manu Chao succumbed to the darkness of depression when Mano Negra, the group he founded in 1987, split up in 1995. An ugly breakup, with unfriendly judgements and reproaches. His disappointment was so great that he considered leaving music for good and opting for social work in Africa. Finally, he decided to travel without a plan through Latin America, where he absorbed Latin rhythms, found a partner (in Brazil) and rebuilt himself psychologically. Culshaw tells of an intriguing episode: “In the most worrying phase of his depression, he was in a bar in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro and a cow approached him. Manu told me that looking into its eyes he felt that the cow saved his life. Since then, every time he suffers a crisis, if a cow crosses his path (or he sees a cow on a poster or whatever) he interprets it as a sign that helps him to make a favourable decision in the face of any dilemma that may arise.”

Having overcome depression after her therapeutic Latin trip, in 1998 she published Clandestine, where he laid the foundation of his style: songs with simple structures, Latin rhythms, fusion, humanistic messages in contrast to commercialism… The success of the album took the author himself by surprise: he rubbed shoulders on the world sales charts with Britney Spears or Eminem. And singing in Spanish and French. Chao attended demonstrations against the G-8, showing his contempt for the policies of the powerful… Some left-wing groups proposed him as an anti-system leader. “I am not the leader of anything. This fight should not have leaders. The people rule,” he insisted. And he vanished. He left the multinational that supported him, fired his manager and slammed the door. Allergic to routine, he has not stopped working for the last 25 years, but on the margins, without an agenda, on impulse: he releases songs in a scattered way and without prior announcement, he takes out his guitar in a bar and gives a two-hour recital, or he appears at rallies in defense of different groups, such as migrants, domestic workers, indigenous peoples…

The Catalan Joan Garriga He has participated playing the accordion and harmonica in several songs by Long live you, the continuation of The Radiolina, from the distant 2007. “We recorded my part in my studio near Barcelona. Manu sends me songs, we meet in the studio and we look for the spark. He is very prolific. He records almost every day. He could be releasing albums every two months,” says Garriga, who founded Dusminguet and now works with La Troba Kung Fu. Long live your It doesn’t mean a transformation of his sound. It’s a recognizable Manu Chao: nice songs, without complications, a lot of repetition of rhythms, with pinches of reggae, rumba, bossa… In the lyrics he expresses social reflection: he speaks of the fact that the current world is not progress and that it is heading towards “collective suicide”. “Fly freedom, fly, and open the way for me, fly across the sea and let peace be my destiny”, sings in Neighbors at sea, which opens a work of 13 songs, most of which do not last more than three minutes and where he sings in Spanish, French, English and Portuguese. He also writes about relationships: “Living without you is sticking thorns in me”, sings in You’re leaving.

Since nothing is conventional with this man, this summer he has embarked on a peculiar tour: months before the release of the album and acoustically, with only three musicians, sitting down and playing in front of audiences of 2,000/3,000 spectators. Argentine Lucky Salvadori, 36 years old, he is one of the musicians who accompanies him, playing the guitar. Salvadori tells this newspaper how he met Chao, an example of the casual way in which the Frenchman works: “In 2018 I was in Colombia, in the Sierra Nevada of Santa Marta. Manu came there to spend a few days before starting a new project. tour in that country (in acoustic format with his guitar). He knows Liliana Saumet, from Bomba Estéreo (popular Colombian group), who introduced us. The first night we spent hours playing in a jam with friends. Every day that he was there we were sharing guitar playing, visiting the rivers in the area, the sea and the mountains. Until he invited me to accompany him to his first concert in Barranquilla. We stayed for hours playing guitar. And the next day he invited me to accompany him on the rest of the tour.” One of the stops was on July 25th at Marenostrum (Fuengirola, Malaga), where Chao made sure, “personally”, that the price of the drinks was not expensive and asked that no commercial brands appear in the venue. The entrance cost 25 euros, a very cheap amount considering the price of current concerts.

Chao values ​​his life staying out of the spotlight and is deeply suspicious of anything that is outside. “It is not easy to be self-sufficient and independent of the industry. Making a living from music without promotion is difficult, but he is doing quite well. It is admirable that without promotion he sells so many tickets. He must suffer because we are all contradictory and famous people are required to be public, which seems absurd to me,” explains Garriga. Culshaw brings his five years of experience alongside the creator of Clandestine to explain: “Manu thinks that by moving he can avoid existential pain and depression, but that path eventually runs out. He is a brilliant artist and a complex person, very private and introverted, but at the same time, he loves crowds. Being enigmatic has also worked as a strategy for him. He has his own political vision and perhaps he does not want to be questioned about it.”

When he’s not on the move (which is most of the year), Chao spends time in Brazil, visiting his son, or at his home in Barcelona. He can often be seen in Poblenou, one of the trendy neighborhoods among the so-called expats (migrants with qualified professions and purchasing power), in a whitewashed house with yellow-barred windows, near the Razzmatazz hall. There, he and some friends take out some chairs, sit in the cool air, and chat for hours. A guitar often appears. It is clear that he is not a conventional star.