I arrived in Tokyo at dusk with a sweat-drenched back and a belly full of space noodles and airline wine. I headed straight to the Grand Prince Hotel Takanawa, an urban resort known for its ultra-modern décor, which includes two faux-jungle pools and a maze of perfectly symmetrical sofas that look like giant caramels. It’s the annual Summer Sonic Festival and I’ve been convinced to join my friend Eugene and his band Gogol Bordello for the final stop on their world tour. The agenda is 5 days in Tokyo, the deal, basically, to bumper-shine the bandwagon and see what unfolds.  The festival is a smashing success. I watch from a side stage as Gogol Bordello blows the buttons off every gadget-holding punk in the pit. Late night, I vibe on the local scene at Shibuya’s The Ruby Room, where members of GB slay the open-mic night with their turbo-blend of dancehall and dubstep, something they call “ghetto fuck music.”

Taking in Tokyo with Gogol Bordello, I fall into a lazy haze, the Gypsy punk rock version of Japan. Everyone I meet is friendly and hospitable as I get lost again and again, solo in the streets of Shibuya, wowed and wasted on technology and cuteness. Led by tour guides, itineraries, lobby calls, scheduled pick-ups and drops offs and a dozen travel mavericks through humid, hyper-electric neighborhoods, I sip healthy ginseng vodka and narrowly avoid yarfing thanks to a nearby sushi-for-drunks joint. Left alone, I lose my wallet, bum poison ivy cigarettes, order teriyaki and nausea medication and receive chicken sashimi and constipation pills. Twice I feel the city right in the belly: first, during an earthquake that clocks in at 7.1 on the Richter scale and feels like being suddenly molested by a stranger. Second, crossing a soft-eyed boy shopping in a t-shirt reading ‘I am here to fuck your ass’.  So I’ll leave you with that nugget of beauty and a few other images from my slam jam in Tokyo.

Gogol Bordello: Alcohol

10%20Alcohol.mp3