Gogol Bordello @ Academy 1

The right half of my face is covered in sweat...someone else's sweat. I can barely move, bruises are already starting to form all over my body and I doubt that I'll ever be able to hear anything again. But I don't care.You see, I've just spent the past three hours in the front row of a Gogol Bordello gig and no amount of pain can detract from the sheer euphoria that such an energetic performance can induce.The show kicked of with the famous DJ Scratchy and his rock'n'roll of the world, spinning discs from Hungary to Jamaica and trying valiantly to raise the temperature in a venue that seemed to be without heating. Ater half an hour of such eclectic grooves it seemed a shame for him to yield to the support band, but ultiamtely they served to raise the roof even more.Being a Gogol gig, the obvious choice for support was a French punk band, and La Phaze ticked all the boxes. Bouncing around with old-skool enthusiasm, their mohicaned lead singer threw out Francophone slogans and raps with equal aplomb, fusing inluences from around the globe into a cohesive cocktail that reverberated round the freezing room, whislt the guitarist and drummer bounced in the background. I may not have understood it, but the language of rock is universal, and this sure did rock. (Plus anyone who ends with a "Fuck Sarkozy!" must be good). Another stint from Scratchy came and went, and afte a dedication for a certain DJ Hutz, the mauin event began.Hutz commanded the stage from the very beginning, captivating the audience with his manic enthusiasm. Intially clad in a bizarre mix of three-quarter length trousers, gypsy sash, jacket and scottish cloth cap (most of which were to be shed in the course of the evening) he towered above the crowd like an eccentric giant. Bouncing across the stage in a neverending one man mosh pit (often sending his bandmates flying as they collided) Hutz enthralled and enthused, as we were treated a mix of hits from latest album _Super Taranta_, the anthemic explosion into the mainstream that was _Gypsy Punks_ and a few forays into the back catalogue for the purists. Every chorus became a slogan as Hutz marshalled the crowd before him, the Ringmaster who was also the circus freak, while his comrades danced around. Yuri and Sergei grounded the performance in its easter European roots with red-hot accordian and violin solos, backing singers/screamers Pamela and Elizabeth dosed up thr theatrical hysteria with Oren and new addition Thomas adding a little cool on guitar and bass respectively. Between tracks Hutz played the role of MC, urging the crowd to forget Manchester's musical heritage in favour of thinking locally and fucking globally and asking them if they'd ever been to American wedding before launching at breakneck speed into another Gypsy punk spectacular. From start to finish the concert went at a hundred miles an hour, leaping across the globe and flying through the sky. yet the highlight came at the start of the encore, when Hutz took to the stage alone, guitar in hand, and instigated apowerful singalong of Alcohol.It may not have been the best of sets, focusing to much on Super Taranta and neglecting the better more anthemic songs from Gypsy Punks and beyond - Sally would have been more than welcome, Immigrant Punk and Illumination sadly missed and Sacred Darling wouldn't ahve gone a miss. however it is a testament to this band's live brillaince that the worst show I;ve seen them do is still in my All Time Top 5.