Given Manu Chao’s relatively modest level of popularity round these parts, it 's somewhat surprising to find him playing in a venue as sizeable and cavernous as Phoenix Park’s Big Top. Surely he will struggle to even partially fill the arena?
But of course, one must take into account the huge number of student-age folks of Spanish and Italian extraction currently residing in Ireland. The multilingual, French-born eccentric’s record sales in the aforementioned countries are considerable, so it's unsurprising that visitors from those parts have flocked to the Park in droves.
It makes for a peculiar, but pleasing, spectacle. Essentially, it 's like being transported to the Mediterranean on a crisp Dublin evening, at the onset of winter, and it's a credit to contemporary Ireland’s cosmopolitan nature that such a feat could be pulled off. There's a real feeling of event; one gets the impression that even visitors who are unfamiliar with, or ambivalent towards, Chao’s music have been drawn to the show by the sense of congregation and partisanship it will engender.
In addition to this, the music is excellent, so everything is in place for a classic gig, right?
No, peculiarly enough. Despite the warmth of the occasion, and the idiosyncratic excellence of Chao’s tunes, these two facets never dovetail in a wholly satisfactory manner. The sheer size and scale of the event forces Manu to play a role to which he is unsuited: the role of stadium artist.
Lack of variety is often used as an artistic criticism, but this observer has always enjoyed the fact that so many of Chao’s songs are indistinguishable from each other. His gift is for nuance; slight, insidious variations on a squealing, Latin garage-rock theme. Unfortunately, such subtlety gets lost in the vast environs of a stadium show, so the set is rather heavy on the booming, graceless reggae end of Chao’s catalogue. All broad brush strokes, no light and shade.
Ultimately, the soundtrack to this rather enjoyable evening was one of its weaker points. Pity.