Empire State Plaza In Albany turned into a riot of sound and sweat on July 16th, when Gogol Bordello unleashed pure gypsy punk chaos on the Capitol Concert Series.
With the Egg looming behind the scenes like a spaceship and the fountains spraying into the summer air, the scene was equal parts surreal and electric.
Kicking off the afternoon, Hudson Valley’s The Big Takeover came in blazing. They were equipped with tight ska grooves, heavy brass, and a feel-good-but-don’t-fuck-with-us energy that delivered a set that was anything but opener status.
Frontwoman NeeNee Rushie’s vocals danced between soulful and commanding, and the band’s chemistry was undeniable. Each song felt like a celebration and a protest rolled into one beat. If you showed up half-asleep, they fixed that real fast.
In between sets, DJ Tribeca kept the plaza moving with cuts and funky transitions that turned the downtime into its own party. She wasn’t just filling space. She was setting the tempo for the storm to come.
And then came the chaos. Gogol Bordello enters like a Molotov cocktail thrown straight into the crowd. Taking the stage with a liquor handle in hand, frontman Eugene Hütz, who’s part punk preacher and part possessed carnival barker, wasted no time turning the plaza into a full-blown gypsy punk uprising.
Empire State Plaza, typically known for bureaucracy and order, transformed into a wild, dancing rebellion to the tune of “I Got No Time for Idiots”, a new Gogol Bordello song.
They tore through staples like “Start Wearing Purple” and “Immigrant Punk” with the kind of manic energy that could raise the dead. He didn’t sing. He charged, stomped, howled, and summoned.
The band was kinetic. A multi-limbed organism, with accordion and violin shredding, guitars wailing and drums slamming like a freight train with no brakes. This wasn’t a concert. It was a cultural jailbreak. The pit surged. Freak flags flew. People climbed on shoulders and screamed lyrics like they were ancient gospel.
Every song was a call to arms. You didn’t dance; you fought your way through it. Gogol Bordello makes music that kicks the fence down and lights it like an arson fire, just for good measure.
And the backdrop? Pure fever dream. The dome of the Egg looked like it was watching some pagan ritual from another dimension. The fountains blasted mist behind the chaos like confetti at a revolution. The whole plaza, normally stiff and buttoned up, became a swirling mess of sweat, feet, fists in the air and joy.
By the end of it all, no one looked the same. Shirts clung, faces gleamed, shoes were wrecked. People looked destroyed, yet completely alive. No one wanted to leave. Why would you? That kind of release doesn’t come around often.
It was glorious. A loud and unhinged reminder that Gogol Bordello didn’t come to entertain. They came to take over. And they did.
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