Mucca Pazza doesn’t get out of Chicago very often. With 20+ members, I imagine it’s pretty difficult to coordinate a schedule that allows everyone to hold on to their day jobs. Last night, St. Louis was very lucky to host them again (Last time they were here was May of 2010). I’m not sure I’m capable of translating a Mucca Pazza show into words, but I’ll try.

I had a locker in the marching band hall for 3 years in high school, which is remarkable, considering I wasn’t in marching band. I can’t play anything, in fact. But my best friend played saxophone her freshman year, and apparently you can never get kicked out of band, even if you quit, so we shared the prestige and honor of our high school’s marching band. Yes, in Granite City, being in marching band actually made you cool. I didn’t learn that this wasn’t the case everywhere until I got to college. Regardless, I LOVE MARCHING BAND. I have seen the movie Drumline 167 times. I watch marching band competitions on TV and online. It’s ridiculous.

So I missed out on Mucca Pazza the last time they were here, and I remember my friends who attended all got crazy drunk and nobody could tell me what the show was like. “Just You Tube it, yo.” But I resolved to arrive with no expectations, and I managed to. It was probably during the encore, when the band was scattered around the circumference of the venue, standing on benches, the bar, pinball machines, the sound booth, and on stage, creating a 360 degree circle of song around the audience, when I realized I have no idea how to tell anyone what just went down. Something about Romanian/Gypsy music creates a fugue state where you forget where you are. Your body sways in unison with everyone else’s, even when you will it not to.

The cheerleaders are as surreal as the music is delightful. They led the audience (all of whom were behind me, though I assume they were totally into it) with a cheer that was largely comprised of the hand signals you learn in driver’s ed, the ones you use when your brake lights or blinkers aren’t working.

The audience gave the band a good three feet of floor space in front of the band, so they could jump down and march through the audience, as marching bands are wont to do. The cheerleaders also used the space to be excessively silly, but were always very polite when they realized they’d hit someone in the face with their giant caution-tape pom poms.  The floor was also host to drumline solos, a rocking glockenspiel solo, and a stage-fight between the trombones and the string section (violin and an electric guitar).

The next time you get the chance to see Mucca Pazza, go. For hardcore marching band geeks, there is nothing better. Their fans are super laid back and happy, their uniforms don’t even smell bad (I checked), and at the end of the night, everyone winds up on the floor.

More Pictures Here.