Portland froze. Gogol Bordello didn’t care.

On a brutal December night, with the sidewalks locked in ice and the wind cutting straight off the harbor, nearly a full house packed into the State Theatre for a full-scale punk rock invasion. Ages ranged from a bundled-up 2½-year-old on someone’s shoulders riding the rail to gray-haired lifers who’ve been wrecking their knees in mosh pits since before half the crowd was born. Everyone showed up. Everyone survived. Everyone danced.

Gogol Bordello stormed the stage like they were kicking in the door of the city itself. No warm-up, no easing in—“Darling” lit the fuse and the room exploded. Eugene Hütz prowled the stage with manic preacher energy, commanding chaos while the band hit like a runaway train fueled by vodka, distortion, and immigrant rage.

The classics landed hard and fast. “Never Wanna Be Young Again” and “Not a Crime” turned the floor into a bouncing mass of fists and boots, while “Immigrant Punk” felt less like a song and more like a mission statement—still sharp, still defiant, still painfully relevant. When “Wanderlust King” and “My Companjera” rolled through, the crowd sang every word back like it was muscle memory.

Mixed into the set were new songs from their soon-to-be-released record (out February 14, 2026), and they didn’t blink next to the old warhorses. “Dance Round Fire” and “Mystics” carried the same feral joy and political pulse, while “We Mean It Man” sounded like a promise and a threat at the same time. If the new record hits like this live, it’s going to wreck a lot of speakers.

The middle of the set was pure gypsy-punk mayhem: “From Boyarka to Boyar,” “Ignition,” and “We Comin Rougher” turned the State Theatre into a whirling, stomping carnival. Violins slashed, drums pounded, guitars buzzed like exposed wires. No genre walls, no rules—just motion.

By the time “Mishto” and “Wearing Purple” hit, the entire room was airborne. Strangers locked arms. Kids danced with parents. The pit was chaos without cruelty—punk rock as community, not competition. “Pala Tute” and “Solidarity”closed the main set with fists in the air and sweat dripping from the ceiling, a reminder that Gogol Bordello’s heart has always been as big as their noise.

The encore was merciless. “Alcohol” was a last call riot. “Hater Liquidator” was a punch to the jaw. And “Undestructible”—misspelled, undefeated, undeniable—left the crowd hoarse, soaked, and grinning like they’d just survived something important.

Gogol Bordello didn’t just play Portland. They overran it. In the dead of winter, they brought heat, sweat, and unity to a frozen town, proving once again that punk rock doesn’t age out—it multiplies. If this show was any indication, the next record is coming in hot, and Gogol Bordello remains exactly what they’ve always been: loud, unkillable, and absolutely necessary.