Jacked-up gypsies
Gogol Bordello unleashes the fury at the West End
Jen Zoratti

Eugene Hütz, the tall, moustachioed frontman of the gypsy punk outfit Gogol Bordello, stepped onstage and surveyed his audience, a bizarre mix of mohawked punks, bohemian hippies and elderly Ukrainian immigrants.

“How ’bout a fucking party?” Hütz screamed, and band and audience almost instantly erupted into a moshing, dancing frenzy.

Hütz and Gogol Bordello may have started their bash an hour late (after blowing a trailer axle in Minnedosa), but when they finally took the stage they launched into a feverish, energized set. Kicking things off with the fiery Immigrant Punks, Hütz and his seven bandmates gave an anarchic punk rock performance punctuated by frantic violins, chaotic accordion, driving bass and thunderous drums.

From the traditionally flavoured Sally to the ass-kicking Not a Crime, these New York City gypsies electrified an astounded audience with their musical chaos. The could-be classic Start Wearing Purple had everyone singing along and stomping their feet.

Slicked with sweat and stripped from the waist up, the lithe and wiry Hütz was a madman, riding his mic and wildly thrashing around the stage. Washboards and pails filled with chains doubled as both props and instruments for the group’s two female members. Perched on top of the amps and bursting with insatiable energy, Hütz continually flirted with the very real possibility that he could fall into the audience.

This was the party of the year so far. And we’d expect nothing less from a man in a handlebar moustache who encourages us to think locally, fuck globally.