About six years ago (I don’t know how many years ago, but I like the number six because it’s all bubbly at the bottom) I watched this movie called “Wristcutters: A Love Story.”
It was clever. It was brilliantly written. It was adorable. It still gives me brain tingles.
In the movie one of the soundtrack items was a song that got under my skin within the first few notes. I loved the song as much as I loved the story and I went straight to Google to tell me who it was.
It was Gogol Bordello.
Oh my God you guys. I can’t explain Gogol to you. You just have to experience him for yourselves. You’re either going to adore him or loathe him. But for me he’s brain tingles all day. He’s got a shit ton of albums, they’re all free to stream if you’re an Amazon Prime member, and they’re awesome.
It’s gypsy punk music. That’s all I can really say. Just listen to this (and go look up Wristcutters while you’re at it – it’s worth owning for sure) and come back to tell me if you’re a member of the Gogol Army afterward.
I just really needed to share Gogol with you today. I’ve been gearing up to go headlong into battle with the primary source material for Mike’s arrest and it’s been stressing me out. Reading descriptions of the images the state Attorney General’s office charged him with is no easier now, three years and five days later than it was the day it happened. Gogol has been helping.
I’m ever in awe of music and story’s ability to soothe, to calm, and to heal.