If the Gipsy Kings took the music of the Roma people to a wider audience via hotel lobbies the world over, Gogol Bordello are their errant, disgraceful cousins.

Last night, the Ukrainian, American, Ethiopian and Russian collective - sometimes six-strong, sometimes eight - offered a mind-boggling cauldron of noise that incorporated crazed fiddle, wily accordion, washboards and, of all things, stomach-quaking reggae bass.

Along the way they nodded to the bawdy racket of The Pogues and Les Negresses Vertes, but also to the less ethnic Clash and Primus.

Such a concoction promised only a shambles, but in Eugene Hutz they have a lanky, bug-eyed, force-of-nature frontman who sounds like The League Of Gentlemen's Papa Lazarou, sings like a pre-dereliction Shane MacGowan and was equally at home banging a fire bucket as hurling himself into the crowd and attacking his acoustic guitar with the sort of venom others reserve for men who have betrayed their sister.

If never quite matching the spectacle, the music punched its weight, particularly Avenue B (concerning things about Russian bathhouses no man should know) and Dogs Were Barking, while the new Supertheory Of Supereverything suggested a group about to up their songwriting game. Exhausting, senses-stretching and exhilarating.