Fanfare Ciocarlia: Melodymen of Moldavia

Fanfare Ciocarlia are more funked-up house jazz than Balkan blues brothers. Sacha Baron Cohen requested they appear on the soundtrack to Borat.

Driving across Moldavia, the northeastern region of Romania, is akin to entering rural Europe of a century ago. From painted monasteries to peasants scything in the fields, it is extremely picturesque. Indeed, if Peter Jackson had made good his threat to shift The Hobbit from New Zealand to Romania he wouldn't have lacked for locations.

Moldavia, which borders Ukraine to the north and Transylvania to the west, is beautiful and isolated. During World War II, Moldavia earned notoriety as a stronghold for Romanian fascists who enthusiastically butchered the region's Jewish community. Post-war, Stalin lopped off a large chunk as punishment and declared it the Republic of Moldova, today Europe's poorest nation. Romania is now part of the EU but Moldavia remains largely agrarian and, as I drove across it, I often picked up hitchhiking women who earned a living foraging for berries and mushrooms.

Yet out of this land that time seemingly forgot emerged Fanfare Ciocarlia, a 24-legged brass beast that has gone on to become one of Europe's foremost live bands.

The Romany Gypsy troupe, who hail from a Moldavian village so obscure they boast "it is not on any map", arrive in New Zealand for the first time to play Womad Taranaki.

Fanfare Ciocarlia's rags-to-riches tale began when Henry Ernst, a young German, was drifting through Moldavia in 1996 and asked a farmer if there were any notable local musicians. The farmer mentioned a Gypsy village nearby that was home to a brass band popular for weddings, funerals and parties. Ernst made his way to the "invisible" village of Zece Prajini (5ha) and found an impoverished Gypsy community largely surviving off subsistence farming. Dirt poor the locals were, but they included a remarkable array of brass players (being farmers, string instruments did not suit their rough fingers). These musicians played battered horns held together by string and tape yet were capable of creating a furious Eastern funk that sounded like no other band on earth.

There has long been a tradition of Balkan brass, one originally inspired by Ottoman army marching bands, and Gypsies lead major ensembles throughout the former Yugoslavia. But none play with the fury and speed of the musicians Ernst christened Fanfare Ciocarlia.

Back in Germany, Ernst got Fanfare festival dates and their huge rush of sound and great sense of fun immediately won over audiences. A record deal followed and the world soon succumbed to Fanfare fever: Sacha Baron Cohen requested they appear on the soundtrack to Borat, DJs have remixed them ( Balkan Beats being a club craze inspired by the band's brass blast) and they tour internationally, their furious rush of sound attracting everyone from jazz and world music lovers to metal fans and techno heads.

I first encountered Fanfare a decade ago when researching my book Princes Amongst Men: Journeys With Gypsy Musicians. Visiting Zeje Prajini was an experience in itself, as I felt I'd stepped into a Breughel painting: dirt streets, geese everywhere, intermittent electricity, only phone in the local bar (and no mobile coverage), houses jerry-built and brightly coloured; cows and pigs in the front yard.

The locals were very welcoming, happy to have a stranger in their midst and proud of the attention their village attracted. Fanfare were a humble group of men, still somewhat surprised by their own success and not quite sure how to describe their sound. Brass, it seems, has always been the music the village has played and fathers have taught sons instrumental skills. The isolation imposed by communism meant the band's sound had not been exposed to a lot of contemporary influences.

However, as ever with Gypsy musicians, they were always listening for tunes that might work at a wedding. So everything from disco hits to jazz standards to movie themes (James Bond) were absorbed into the repertoire. What it makes for - along with the band's desire to get audiences dancing (again a wedding trick, a happy wedding guarantees generous tips) - is a music that explodes with joy, an energy rush of shared enthusiasm.

Last summer I returned to Fanfare's village and found it largely unchanged. The musicians have continued to build bigger homes - I'm informed that the unveiling of the village's first inside toilet was an event - but little else has changed. The roads are still dirt, geese remain everywhere, life moves very slowly. The band's largesse has proudly built their village a church and a school.

Meeting with Oprica Ivancea, the band's clarinet and saxophone player and de facto leader since the death of his father, Ioan, I asked how Fanfare feel about their success since they've now stormed stages from Tokyo to Hollywood.

"It's all been good. We travel the world bringing our music to people and then we come back here. But you see our village has changed - we are very happy to send our kids to high school and universities and to allow a much higher education level than we had. That's the most important achievement for us!"

Oprica notes the band's sound has also developed: their latest album The Devil's Tale finds them recording with Canadian guitarist Adrian Rasso - so slowing and expanding their sound. But for Womad, he notes, there will be lots of the traditional songs that they first made their name with.

And as New Zealand is one of the last territories for Fanfare to play, I asked what idea they had of our nation.

"Honestly, we don't know much about your country. Except that it is a very, very long flight from Europe."

He laughs and then adds, "Of course we know New Zealand has something to do with sheep - we live in a village, so we know sheep too!"

What: Fanfare Ciocarlia, Romanian brass ensemble gone international
When and where: Womad 2015, March 13 to 15, (playing Sat, 3pm, Todd Energy Brooklands stage Sat, 7pm, Nova Energy Taste the World; Sun, 12 noon, TSB Bowl stage)

- TimeOut