Changing the world is a big ask in these cynical times. Top marks, then, to Manu Chao for keeping the flame burning. In between selling millions of political protest records, cunningly concealed in multi-lingual, multi-genre mash-ups, the Franco-Spanish superstar busies himself with local activism, gigs for worthy causes and large scale fiestas in Europe and the Americas. These focus on raising awareness of everything from the plight of refugees to the dangers of global warming and duplicity of organised “politiks”. Oh, and getting crowds to mosh like loons.

Flanked by the six members of Radio Bemba, a band with a fondness for combat shorts and bare chests, and a giant Sahara Libre flag, Chao delivered music that cut across race and class and sparked mass frenzy. A mix of fist-pumping ska and tightly coiled reggae, tracks built in intensity before abruptly changing tempo. Sing-a-long classics La Primavera and Clandestino came with instrumental interludes, notably the flamenco-stylings of gurning lead guitarist Madjid. Tracks from current album La Radiolina felt brighter, more infectious.

Cop car sirens and other effects as on Dimanche á Bamako, his 2004 collaboration with Amadou and Mariam livened up re-cycled riffs and Bob Marley “oh-yo-yo-yo” affectations. “Too much violence!” yelled Chao, miming shooting himself in the head. Still, it wasn’t all agit-prop: forthcoming single La Vida Tombola was a paean to Argentina coach Diego Maradona. All protest singers, it seems, like to stray off message occasionally.