Given the sources involved, it is not surprising that most of the tracks on this album originated in Eastern Europe or from the still-flourishing Manouche scene, but virtually everything else is unexpected in one way or another. A consort of instruments, both traditional and not-so, including violins, cello, double bass, accordion, guitar, keyboards, cimbalom (hammer dulcimer), drums and percussion are given a propulsive thrust by judiciously applied touches of cutting-edge programming and samples. The lyrics, sung in Yiddish, Romani and French, express love as experienced by a man and woman but especially, between parent and child; also bitterness in old age, estrangement and always lurking just beneath, the theme of wandering, as constant metaphor or imminent reality, whether in the past, looming on the morrow or running in the blood. The album is resonantly soulful, sometimes mordantly funny and almost always compulsively danceable; even the ballads hit the hips as well as the heart. But each song is underpinned by a fugitive strand of melancholy that imbues even the most manic melody with the import of indestructible race memory, a cumulative gift bestowed by uncountable anonymous and unsung musical lives.