More than a band, Gogol Bordello are a force of nature.

No-one comes close to capturing that blistering brew of Balkan folk, Russian rock, Roma rhythm and utterly random spontaneity that is their signature sound.

The self-styled Gypsy Punks fill any space with the spiralling sound of a Carpathian party band running out of control after spiking the vodka punch with angel dust.

Even before they bounded onto the stage - in front of a Romany flag emblazoned "Gypsy Punk Revolution" - the atmosphere was electric.

Dishevelled, wide-eyed, frontman Eugine Hutz, looked like he had already played the gig of his life before uttering a word. But the curly moustached Ukrainian's energy knows no limits.

We knew we were in for one hell of a ride and were not disappointed. Racing headlong into a two-hour set there was barely time to breathe among a riot of Slavic stomp, shot through with reggae, flamenco, klezmer and hard rock, hammered out on pummelled accordion, thrashed electric and acoustic guitars, sawing fiddle, drums, and fire bucket.

Rousing favourites like Start Wearing Purple, Not a Crime and Immigrant Punk from Gypsy Punks Underdog World Strike, are mixed with the weirder moments of follow-up Super Taranta! - such as his song of submission to the hold of vodka Alcohol, and the rousing Wanderlust King.

While the show is pure comedy - with outlandishly attired backing singer/ dancer/ percussionists Pamela Jintana Racine and Elizabeth Sun marching around bashing drums, buckets and anything else that makes a thump, and Hutz repeatedly kicking guitarist Oren Kaplan up the backside - the panto never overtakes the technical brilliance of their orchestration and talent. It's clever, funny but steeped in a heady blend of folk tradition and cutting edge rock&roll - and it is hypnotic.

Things reach their strangest when Hutz slips into high heels and wig and sings about being a super model on Zina Marina - and reaches an explosive high with him submerging his microphone in a bucket of water, and throwing the whole thing in the air for it to come crashing onto the stage to the riotous sounds of Super Taranta!

By the time it's over we are drained. The band, for their part, look like they could go on all night - tirelessly pummelling audience after audience with their pulse quickening onslaught - and hastening their Gypsy Punk Revolution.