Gogol Bordello at The National

The moon was clear in the night sky, I had on funky tights, purchased in Berlin by a thoughtful friend, and the evening started early with good tequila.

All indications were for a fine night of gypsy punk.

J. and I were meeting at Gibson's for a pre-show cocktail, but she had a beer dinner to attend first. In the meantime, I chatted with a nearby bar sitter, who commented that not everyone would have the nerve to wear the tights I had on (although he did acknowledge that they looked like Berlin tights).

Phsaw, I said, nerve is one thing I do not have in short supply.

Friend finally arrived and ordered a Maker's Mark Manhattan to enjoy whilst I finished up my Tres Generations pour.

Then it was showtime.

We arrived at the National in time to enjoy part of Apostles of Hustle's interesting opening set.

I was especially pleased to find one of my favorite drummers/vocalists, Kevin (of Tulsa Drone and Marionette), tending bar; this is always a good thing because of the superb music talk and excellent pours it yields.

It was at this point that I made a convert out of my friend and she made the leap from whiskey to good tequila.

Smart woman.

What is there to say about Gogol Bordello?

Part gypsy music, part punk and pure energy is too simplistic and yet it says it all.

Or, to put it another way, two musicians had broken strings by the second song.

How about this: both the violin and accordion are played in minor keys?

And there were conga drums.

Need I go on?

The show was a non-stop dance-fest, except for the five people who remained rooted in place; we surmised that they were brain-dead and unable to respond to the allure of music created to entice the audience to respond.

The audience was a cross-section of RVA, with people representing every age, social group and musical preference; both the cool people and the complete geeks (including one in a holiday sweater...seriously) were in attendance.

Because when Gogol Bordello performs, they will come.

That much was clear.