When so many musicians dabble in activist chic when it suits their current publicity campaign, it's refreshing to highlight someone whose credentials are indisputable and whose stance is both long term and consistent. These re-releases come as Manu Chao features in several festivals across the country touring last years La Radiolina, and indeed he was about the only invigorating thing about (my admittedly armchair and BBC controlled viewing of) this year's Glastonbury. He was born politicised as his parents were forced émigrés from Franco's Spain, and early influences for his first bands spawned from the multi-cultural Parisian suburbs included, as you might have guessed, the Clash and Bob Marley. Later Chao became a friend of Joe Strummer, in itself a rarity as he usually shuns hob-knobbing with the famous. Initial big European success came with the lively French punk of Mano Negra in the late eighties, but they split largely under the strain imposed by Chao's uncompromising attitude - touring South America by specially converted ship-cum-performance-space and specially converted train.

Clandestino from 1998 was largely recorded on a laptop as he continued his travelling and immersion in Mesoamerican sounds. It was the first album released under his own name, though some members of Mano Negra are still present, and he still operates a band ethic. It went on to sell millions. The two albums reviewed here followed in 2001 and 2002. Chao's career has been punctuated by side-projects and, most annoyingly for the industry types pressing him to crack the USA, a determinedly indifferent attitude to Anglo-world success and frequent backpacking journeys to satisfy his itchy feet and recharge the artistic batteries. Often in the midst of major tours he will perform unannounced for groups of students or striking workers, and is close to Subcomandante Marcos of the Chiapas Zapatistas. Just don't call his exotic cocktail of genres 'world music' - that's "a neo-colonial label ... for music not sung in English." He sings for the disenfranchised; about ghetto poverty and economic immigration; about the bludgeoning power of the USA.

As demonstrated on Próxima Estación: Esperanza (literally "Next station: Hope", a Madrid metro stop), Manu Chao's albums are characterized by a 'Latino radio' style collage of sounds and genres from Tijuana ska, to flamenco, salsa, and Andean shuffles; all flavouring the underlying rock'n'roll, punk, and reggae. Tracks bleed into one continuous soundtrack via street sounds, announcement sound bites and jingles. There is an eco-friendly re-use of riffs and lyrics across albums, that extends back to Mano Negra and even to his stewardship of Amadou & Mariam's 2004 album Dimanche à Bamako (one of the best of that year: get it!). Songs can be delivered in Spanish, French or English, and occasionally others like Arabic. Many bounce along in under a couple of minutes so there's little chance of getting bored. Longer loping tracks of busking strumming may cut deeper with a political message. Chao's voice is never spectacular, but always sounds appropriately 'of the street' and vital.Radio Bemba Sound System (named after the guerrilla radio of the Cuban Revolution) takes a wide sample of his earlier songs and ramps them up a notch or five, often to a hardcore stomp. It captures the essence of a pulsating live Manu Chao performance, with only a handful of the fast-flowing 28 tracks dipping below anything other than a vigorous non-stop workout - as if The Specials were partying Caracas campesinos not Coventry rude boys. It's a thrilling celebratory ride from the moment the crowd roar at the mention of sex and drugs at the end of the border-bending starter 'Bienvenida A Tijuana'. It can leave you feeling pretty exhausted just listening to and getting caught up in this energetic album, that all works in a way that live albums seldom do. If there are very occasional moments of cod reggae, Bad Manners style ska, or lyrically 'simple' English ("Hey Bobby Marley, sing something good to me"), it's always saved by the sheer energy of the performance and some storming horns. A perfect party record and the perfect introduction to, or live memento of a concert by, Manu Chao. A DVD is also available. Forget anyone still sporting a mohican, this is the real essence of punk: Manu Chao - at 46 still a sparkling-eyed rebel with many causes. Don't be an Anglo that misses out. Próxima Estación: Esperanza 74% Radio Bemba Sound System 86%Links Manu Chao [official site] [myspace]