Gogol Bordello

I don't know who it was who first recommended Gogol Bordello to me.

For some reason I think it might have been Mr. Phillips.

Moving on.

I looked Gogol Bordello up online. I was tense, sweating (primarily in the "palms" region). And then, BAM. Nuttin'. I thought the Diety might have been displeased with me for doing so, for my access to the magical, mystical "internet" immediately and catastrophically ended.

Demonstrating my incredible intellectual powers, I did what anyone maintaining a blog which is obsessed with bringing fine arts to nearly seven readers. I forgot all about Gogol Bordello.

Sigh.

A month, maybe two passed (its hard to tell in Knoxville, where we have only two seasons, contruction and acid drizzle). I loved. I laughed. I danced quietly at night in the back of my house, surrounded by ancient tomes.

Sorry. I like the word "tomes."

Then one day my friend (English) Hannah and I were rocking and walking out on Broadway. Not New York. Regardless, we walked into Target to acquire bottled water and there, at the checkout aisle was a DVD for the movie Everything is Illuminated. I'd seen a preview for this flick at the arts theater recently and was entranced. So I bought it.

I watched the entire, truly excellent movie (laughing and/or crying alternatively, which is nice). I was satisfied, full to the brim with delicious happy-joy. Then, as the credits ran, a song entitled "Start Wearing Purple" began to play.

I don't use crack or meth or any other highly addicitive, exceedingly illegal materials. Not my style. But damn Skippy and $#!@@^ Joseph if that tune didn't take over my head. It was like some insane European had taken traditional gypsy music with thrash-happy punk rock. I literally was dancing. I literally was singing the refrain. I literally rewound the credits and listened around nine or ten times. Hell, I dreamed about the song that night.

This song, damnable, its like pure happiness was distilled by truly excellent moonshiners from Franklin County (the Glorious Commonwealth of Virginia), fruited with the fattest, most perfect blackberries, and then consumed en masse beside a fire three times too large to be safe.

Hell, I'm listening to this song right now, by the by, and I am seriously rocking out, much to the chagrin of the meemaw and peepaw across from me.

Oh, and my original appraisal, yeah, accurate. Gypsy ska punk. Who friggin' knew? (Don't tell me globalization doesn't have its bright spots).

Let me drop you some knowledge. I know you want a fix before you do anything else - mySpace is a quick remedy, eh? NPR has numerous giga-stimulating qualities in this respect as well. And an interview. Speaking of interviews, check this jonx from Stinky Records. And check out http://www.exeromai.com/gogol.htm. They are so rock solid it is killing me! Of course, the first comes last (Preacher Paul said) and damned if it ain't the same here - dig on the Gogol Bordello home site. . . truly interesting, tons of stuff, including numerous downloadable mp3s and links to relevant cultural sites. Oh snap!