The New Gypsy Kings This World

For some of Romania's gypsy musicians,

life has never been so good.

HE SPEAKS IN ROMANI

They are stars of a new kind of music.

HE SINGS

This gypsy pop glorifies money, cars and the good life.

But for some, it's deadly.

And there are claims it's linked to organised crime.

Just who are these new gypsy kings?

I'm travelling in the north-east of Romania,

one of the poorest parts of the country.

My name is Liviu Tipurita

'and I've been making films about the Roma community for many years.'

80% of Romania's Roma gypsies live below the poverty line

with unemployment almost universal.

More than 500 people live in this village, most of them Roma gypsies.

The postman comes twice a week.

Today it's benefits day.

But not everyone here is poor.

This village is home to one of the most famous gypsy bands

in the world, musicians I've known for years.

RHYTHMIC CLAPPING

'I've come to visit them as they rehearse

'for their upcoming international tour.'

This is Fanfara Ciocarlia.

They were discovered 20 years ago by a German sound engineer.

Back in 1996 it was my personal hobby to travel

all over Eastern Europe to record bands.

I entered this very small village,

and within two or three minutes a bunch of people showed up

and they started instantly performing for this foreigner.

Since then, Fanfara have sold hundreds of thousands of records

and performed to packed houses as far away as Japan and New Zealand.

This success has brought dramatic changes to their village.

Back in the '90s, houses were made by mud, looked like this.

Nowadays it looks totally changed.

They have now electricity here, bathrooms,

toilets and even two- or three-storey houses.

The band do more than 100 international concerts a year.

Travelling around the world has given them a new perspective

on how their own community is treated here.

In the poor part of the village, I meet two teenage boys who hope

that music will help them escape the poverty.

There aren't many other options here.

Thousands of Romanian gypsies travel abroad each year

to earn money.

But there are risks.

The boys' father has just returned from Sweden

where he was exploited by a people trafficker.

HE SINGS

For 13-year-old Vladut, music is the passport to riches and status.

-APPLAUSE

-Bravo!

-Bravo!

Fanfara Ciocarlia is one of a handful of Romanian gypsy bands

who have achieved international fame.

But here in Romania,

there's much bigger money to be made from a very different sound.

Adrian The Miracle lives with his wife Cati and their three children.

Adrian once boasted of a fortune of 100 million,

until Romania's tax authorities began to take an interest.

PHONE RINGS

But however rich he is,

Adrian The Miracle is an undisputed superstar

of a new kind of gypsy pop...

..manele.

MANELE MUSIC

Manele is now the most popular form of gypsy music in Romania.

Videos like this can attract millions of hits.

The songs are mostly about love, romance and...

money.

Today, Adrian is taking me to meet one of his friends and patrons.

As always, he travels in style.

This villa belongs to businessman Fabian Marin.

One of the other family businesses is a little bit more unorthodox.

Witchcraft runs in the family.

Fabian's daughter is casting a purifying spell onto Adrian.

Adrian has written a special song and made his video dedicated

to Fabian's wife, the Witch Sydonia,

known as the Princess Of White Magic.

The reason why the Witch Sydonia is missing is because she's in jail.

She was convicted for her involvement in a plot

to bribe a judge - offering 45,000 euros

and a luxury car in return for the release of Fabian

and two of their sons.

They were under arrest for suspected false imprisonment and blackmail,

but were later released.

Fabian and Adrian are having a little party amongst friends.

Adrian is introducing a newcomer.

Showing off is part of this culture.

As night falls, the party moves inside.

In return for the wads of money,

Adrian provides a song about the Witch Sydonia for her son Ahmed.

It's personalised dedications like this

that are Adrian's main business.

Adrian and his friends have come a long way in the last 25 years.

To find out more about this new wealth

and the whole manele industry,

there's one man I have to see.

Daniel Paraschiv, nicknamed Dan The Badger,

is the most successful manele producer in Romania.

Like a Romanian version of Simon Cowell,

Dan The Badger has been a judge on popular talent shows.

His support can make or break careers.

Dan has opened a school for young manele singers.

I'm here to meet a new talent he's discovered.

THEY SING

DRUMMING IN DISTANCE

There are 12 students here, all from poor backgrounds.

For each one of them, being at this school is a dream come true.

Dan The Badger has even hired an opera singer to train them.

OK.

SHE SINGS

APPLAUSE

Dan The Badger invites me to see

some of his students in action performing at a wedding.

Dan makes most of his money providing live entertainment

at events like this.

He has also brought with him his group of established manele stars,

who are major celebrities here.

The whole town has turned up to see him.

Many manele songs are about love, families and hardship,

but some lyrics, celebrating a bling lifestyle and gangsterism,

have made the genre controversial.

From a humble background, Dan The Badger is proud of his roots

and of his success.

Romania's gypsy community has come a long way in the last 30 years.

Until 1989, Romania was a Communist country

ruled by dictator Nicolae Ceausescu.

The Roma were not recognised officially as an ethnic minority

and their music was banned.

In December 1989, revolutions swept the country

and the brutal dictator Ceausescu was executed.

GUNFIRE

With the country free,

the gypsies finally could play their traditional music in public.

Adrian The Miracle and Dan The Badger

teamed up and starting performing at weddings.

Until then, Romania had been a virtual prison.

With the opening of the borders,

many Roma gypsies went west to find their fortunes.

One of those was crime boss of Bucharest Fane Spoitoru.

He headed to Germany.

With the money he made there, Fane turned this Bucharest cafe

into THE venue for gypsy music in Romania.

He hired Adrian The Miracle and Dan The Badger to play there.

He took them under his wing and they soon became a hit.

After years of oppression, people could bask

in the joys of naked capitalism and let their hair down.

The whole Bucharest underworld was hanging out in the Old Cafe,

and I've been told that this is where modern manele

was actually born.

This footage from a feature film shot in those days

capture some of the atmosphere of the place.

But Fane Spoitoru's career in the music business

was rudely interrupted in 1992

when he was shot six times by a police officer.

He fought back with a samurai sword and sliced the policeman's arm.

Sentenced to nine years in prison, Spoitoru became a legend

of both the gypsy underworld and the music industry.

But that didn't stop the rise of gypsy pop.

And Adrian The Miracle was at the heart of a revolution.

To appeal to a wider audience,

Adrian stopped singing in his native gypsy language.

This music was called manele.

Its lyrics reflected the realities of day-to-day life for Roma gypsies,

but also the joys of bling, and sometimes outright gangsterism.

Today is a big day.

Dan The Badger and former crime boss Fane Spoitoru go back a long way,

and today Dan is godfather to Fane's grandson at his wedding.

20-year-old Elisabeta is marrying Fane's grandson Marian

in a traditional Orthodox ceremony.

The reception party promises a glittering line-up

of manele superstars.

As an old protege of Fane Spoitoru,

Adrian The Miracle is one of the headliners.

-ANNOUNCER:

-..Adrian Minune!

The top of the bill is Florin Salam,

also known as the King of Manele.

Salam has also had some help from Fane,

and he starts with a tribute to his benefactor.

I wanted to ask Fane,

what's he done for these musicians to deserve such praise?

The guests shower Salam with money. Any currency will do.

The groom throws 4,500 euros over the singer's head in one go.

In just one hour I see over 20,000 euros handed over to Salam.

Top manele singers make most of their fortunes like this.

Giving wads of cash in public is a way for men

to show off how rich they are.

But before I can talk to him,

Florin Salam suddenly leaves the party.

Summer is the gypsy wedding season in Romania.

This is a busy time for musicians.

The top manele singers can make thousands of euros a day

in cash.

I want to talk to Florin Salam, the King of Manele, to find out more

about where all this money is coming from.

I can't get a moment with him,

but I run into his manager, Puiu Gheorghiu,

a retired Romanian air force colonel.

Here, Florin is like a king.

You can't have a wedding here without Florin Salam.

It's not a wedding.

Today, I'm in Oltenita in southern Romania.

The bride and groom are both teenagers.

Teenage weddings are common in this community.

Many Romani gypsies still live outside mainstream society

with their own laws and customs.

The main man here is called Cimino,

and soon the money starts flowing to Florin Salam.

Unu, doua, trei...

I still can't talk to Florin Salam, but his manager, Puiu Gheorghiu,

explains to me what's going on.

A party with Florin Salam, it's like a Forbes rich list for the gypsies.

But they don't have a magazine to write this,

and they don't need a magazine to write this,

and they don't want to have a magazine to write this.

It sounds like there's a lot of money.

Where does this money come from?

Oh... Um...

Please be so gentle and...

..let me to...

not respond.

But Florin Salam's lyrics certainly raise questions about his patrons

and how they get all this cash.

I wonder whether this is boasting,

or whether these guys are real gangsters.

As darkness falls, the lyrics get more and more specific.

But once again, Florin Salam leaves the party before I can talk to him.

And I'm not sure I want to ask these guys too many questions.

So what's the news?

He's sleeping now, but I promise you you shall have an interview

-with Florin Salam.

-Really?

-Yes.

-OK, thank you very much.

-Yes, on my...

Yes, OK.

Thank you for your understanding.

Only a tiny minority of Romania's gypsies

live in the world of gangster bling inhabited by Florin Salam.

I'm heading to the village of Clejani,

famous across Romania as a home of traditional gypsy music.

On my way, I stop to see Viorica,

a traditional singer who is struggling to get by.

Viorica isn't just any musician.

She's a lead singer in the legendary band Taraf De Haidouks.

For the Taraf De Haidouks, this new gypsy pop manele is threatening

a musical tradition that has been handed down for centuries.

It hasn't always been like this.

Taraf de Haidouks took the West by storm in the '90s.

Their music is like...

You know, it's beyond anything I've ever heard.

First, they're the greatest musicians I've ever heard.

-CHEERING AND APPLAUSE

-Yeah. Yeah.

Johnny Depp became their biggest fan.

He even hired them to play at his club in LA.

But when a Romanian newspaper claimed that they were paid

100,000 for the job, they became a target.

The band's double bass player and his family

were subjected to a horrific attack.

At three o'clock in the morning, eight men broke into his house.

His family were subjected to brutal assault

and they were robbed of everything.

I'm heading for the Black Sea coast, to Mamaia,

the most popular sea resort in Romania.

It's home to a famous club called the House of Manele.

Tonight, Florin Salam is top of the bill here.

The organisers are expecting a busy night.

The club is run by Fane Spoitoru,

who was once the crime boss of Bucharest.

His team has to be ready to deal with some of the more

difficult clientele.

The local VIPs take their usual seats along with Salam's manager

and the ever-present Fane Spoitoru.

It's not long before money starts flowing.

After the opening songs, Florin Salam heads to the VIP area

to pay his respects.

It's time for a few dedications.

No-one would talk to me on camera about these guys,

but most people here know who they are.

In the middle of the VIP area is the son

of the notorious gangster Sacan.

His father was said to be the head

of the Romanian Black Sea Coast Mafia.

And with him is his friend Tanku - a well-known underworld figure.

Also here is a man who the press has described as a suspected

local crime boss.

I ask Florin Salam's manager about his links with gangsters.

We must understand a nuance here.

They consider him much closer than he wants to be.

Salam should be doing the rounds and singing at all the tables.

But he's stuck here.

Some of the VIPs are getting increasingly drunk,

demanding that he sings the same hits over and over again.

Florin Salam is under a lot of pressure.

These kind of people come, they tell you something,

-and if you say no...

-HE CLAPS

..punish you.

Florin Salam has now been trapped at this table for an hour and a half.

The regular guests are beginning to leave.

Salam's manager Puiu decides to pull the plug.

Literally.

MUSIC STOPS

After hours of drinking, it feels like it could kick off at any time.

One of the group becomes abusive.

But this is Fane Spoitoru's club, and no-one messes with him.

The troublemakers leave.

'Finally I'm getting my interview with Florin Salam.

'Like most of today's gypsy pop stars,

'Salam began as a traditional musician.'

One of his early patrons was Ion Balint,

AKA Nutu the Moneylender.

Nutu is head of one of Romania's most powerful crime families

and is currently in jail for violence.

It seems that even Romania's most successful gypsy pop star

feels trapped by family responsibilities.

For the traditional musicians, things are far worse.

But most of Caliu's earnings went to the loan sharks.

Times are now so hard for the Taraf de Haidouks

that many of them struggle even to feed their families.

HE SHOUTS

PIG SQUEALS

My fear is that traditional gypsy music, which has helped

define this community in the eyes of the world for so many years,

is now dying.

For better or worse the new music, manele,

presents a very different image of Romania's gypsies.

The hardest-hit band member is singer Viorica.

I arrive to find that she's been struggling to look after her

three grandchildren on her own while her daughter has been in London.

Viorica and her granddaughters live in one tiny room.

BABY CRIES

Ana is the oldest.

Ramona, the children's mother, is back from London.

SHE HUMS