A review, of sorts

So, the Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band would have completely rocked my socks off last night at the Harbour Light bar, had I been wearing socks (an oversight on my part). And actually 'rocked' isn't really the right word I suppose. Um, I might have to invent some new verbs. Gypsy-fevered? Insanely-virtuosicised? Surprisingly-sexied?

Well anyhow, wow. Freakin' far out! These guys and girls are terrifically talented - I didn't know the flute could be played that fast, let alone non-stop for 2 hours! Nor could I have guessed that an electric guitar could so aptly imitate a balalaika and other such folky delights, and weave all sorts of moods so very stylishly without sounding contrived or out of place. Every moment was a breathtaking combination of pleasures, of both subtle and non-subtle varieties. If the awesomeness and charismatic quality of their music had not been enough on its own merits, they were also masters of the art of crowd-pleasing, as well as particularly easy on the eye... mmm, topless bearded Russian men...

You know how some gigs you come away from with a sense of sheer euphoric gratitude for the privilege of partaking ever so briefly of the overflow of someone else's genius? And kind of patting yourself on the back for having absolutely nailed your being-in-the-right-place-at-the-right-time skills, just this once? Yeah. There was a sort of a sense of destiny, watching the iconic Mr Cragg (aka Benka Boradovsky), who was clearly born for this role. He gave the impression (though for all I know it may have been mere theatrics) of being perhaps one of the more chaotic and licentious men ornamenting our planet, but it didn't seem to matter because he looks like a ginga Jesus in a gypsy coat, and his voice sounds like a gravel-crusher suffused in whiskey, left out to dry on the Siberian plains for a few hard winters and then mixed up with a generous measure of yearning soulfulness. It was kind of hard to know how much of what appeared to be going on was for real and how much was all part of the act - I'm gonna go ahead and guess that the accent was fake...? - but in fact I don't much care whether or not I was being taken in, because it was so damn enjoyable.

I could go on. Suffice it to say I shall be looking out for their return to the South, and hopefully by then I shall have learned how to dance, the lack of which skill on my part was the only thing wanting for a perfect evening. Sometimes tapping one's toes, however vigorously, is just not enough. Sigh.

Edit: Oh yeah, almost forgot to mention they get extra points for doing a song about Count von Count, the arithmomaniac muppet. Folk rhythms and rising tempo added a whole new dimension to lines like '1-2-3-4 (ayayayayay) once I start I cannot stop' etc etc. Magnificent.

Edit again: Heh, I just learned what a bordello is. Oh aren't I cute and innocent. I'm guessing my parents didn't know either or we probably wouldn't have gone for my little sister's birthday :)