Gogol Bordello at the Kool Haus in Toronto, 10/09/07

It’s a coldish night in October, you are sick with a fever, and you are cranky. But there is nothing more you’d rather do than put on a pair of fishnets, get in a cab, and haul it down to the Kool Haus. And when you get there, and you see an enormous purple tour-bus parked outside the back entrance, the fever starts to numb – ever so slightly – and…well, no, you’re still pretty cranky. So whiskey and ginger it is. Which makes you feel a little less cranky. And you scan the crowd. And the crowd is one of the weirdest you’ve seen in a while. It’s 19+ but really more like 19+++++++ all the way up to, saaaaay, 75. A few groups of little old Ukrainian ladies toddle along the edges of the dancefloor, middle age fratties swig beer from the bar, and hardcore types prance around in their platforms and piercings. (Oh….and there are some indie-kids there too. Yawn.) Opening band = not bad (not good enough to remember their name though). Two of their tracks = particularly mesmerizing. But you have a fever and you are not really here to be mesmerized. You are here to rock. Opening band loads their shit off the stage. You press in closer. It’s already getting a bit hot. (which is fine. what do you care? you have a fever, you are freezing) People shove. You shove back (cranky). Aaaaaand lights…...aaaaaaaaand banner…..aaaaaaaaand Gogol Bordello….....aaaaaaaaand first chord…..aaaaaaaaand JUMPUPANDDOWNANDPUNCHYOURFISTINTHEAIRANDGOCOMPLETELYBANANAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fever? What fever? For two hours you feel no pain. You feel nothing but the joy that comes with going totally retarded. You engage in a heart-stopping punk-rock-polka until the sweat is blinding your eyes and your top is stuck to you like a second skin. After the seven song encore of nuttiness you ring your sopping wet hair out in the washroom. In fact, you are so wet you are still soaking three hours later when the fever returns and you’ve downed a couple of cool-down drinks. But despite it, you know that if a purple bus were to pass you right then, you’d be plastering yourself to the back of it without question.
5 hearts out of 5: (fucking duh)