King of the bongo

In the hot summer of 1999, my first in New York, my friend Peter came to visit, armed with a bunch of records I've since forgotten. The one I remember was Manu Chao's solo debut Clandestino, which had yet to invade lefty coffee shops and dinner parties everywhere. It suited the heat perfectly and we left it on repeat hanging out in my smoky, shabby living room, friends coming and going, as often happened in those days. A bunch of us took it to the roof and eventually fell asleep up there. I remember the precise discomfort of waking up on the hot tar. Nothing extraordinary about any of that, but the memory has burned itself in my brain as a snapshot of those first days in the city.

A while later, I stumbled onto Mano Negra—Manu Chao's multi-culti, Clash-inspired, righteous punk band (album cover notwithstanding). Aside from soundtracking whatever political rally you've got planned, it's great for keeping awake when you're bleary-eyed on the highway at night. I think he's singing in Arabic here. Translation anyone?

Mano Negra - Sidi H'bibi