This is an mp3 blog attempting to document the gross amount of music I listen to. About once a day, I'll post something I like. If you're a copyright holder on anything I host, get in touch, and we'll settle things in a steel cage instead of a courtroom.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

"I make a better rock revolution alone with my dick!" - Gogol Bordello

I'm super excited today. It's not because I'm rocking a Hurricane 40 oz., and it's certainly not because I spent all day sticking pins in a giant map so executives could have a visual as to where US Marshal detention centers are. No, I'm stoked because I finally got tickets to see Gogol Bordello this month. Will likely be going to see them with Elia and my sister, Liz. I can't wait to get buzzed and belly dance my beer gut around. (It ain't a concert if I'm not embarassing the people what came with me.) Jonathan made it sound like they travel with a retinue of acrobats, dancing girls, and fire breathers, but even without the spectacle, I'd still shell out $20 to see these guys, which is normally WAY more than I'd typically pay to see someone who wasn't Morrissey.

Fronted by the charismatic, spastic, utterly baffling Eugene Hutz, the 'Dello throw down a spine-twisting mix of punk rock, Slavic folk, flamenco, and reggae. People tend to think "Borat Goes Punk!" on account of the fact that Hutz sings like a ranting, drunk French sailor, but it takes only one listen of last year's classic Gypsy Punks: Underdog World Strike to realize it's all a part of the scheme. One of the most reknowned DJs in New York, Hutz's hobo stew approach to musical amalgamation really makes sense. Punks and Gypsies are by nature outsiders who look to music to comfort them against the down-the-nose glare of society. I dunno why it took someone so long to take a stab at being the Eastern European version of the Pogues, but I'm glad someone finally did.

One of my favorite memories from college was finding out my neighbor Lauren also loved the 'Dello, and we would rock that shit on my proch all the damn time in between blasts of James Browns' "The Big Payback." I'd hook my Creative Zen up to my bass amp, and we would blare it into our little share of the quad, getting strange looks from passerby. In my mind, spring's not complete without the sun's warmth, a cold can of Stroh's, good company, and Gypsy Punks absolutely laying down some block-rocking beats.,_Fuck_Globally.mp3.html


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