FULLY three hours after arriving onstage Gurdas Maan is still urging his musicians on, encouraging them to increase the pace, conducting them through various subtleties, and sharing pleasantries with all and sundry.

And although he's barely stood still for more than a few seconds throughout the whole time, Maan gives every appearance of being ready, willing and able to continue for another three hours or more.

At 56, he looks to have maintained the regimes that allowed him to complete his masters degree in physical education and gain a black belt in judo. His dancing and extraordinarily graceful movements are just part of his attraction, however. Top of the bill by some way is the voice. While the meaning of what this Punjabi icon sings and says is lost on someone who doesn't share his native language – and he apologises at one point for his poor English – the quality of his singing in terms of variations of timbre and agility is astonishing.

His fans in the packed auditorium respond to their particular favourites – some of which smack of devoional singing or dispensing wisdom, others appearing more mischievous – by bringing him money or other gifts. A tartan scarf is gratefully accepted and immediately draped over Maan's shoulders, a Scottish touch alongside his resplendent yellow tunic and lungi.

Maan's vocalist-percussionist gives him a breather by telling jokes and tales about his soberly dressed fellow band members. But Maan hardly stops pacing and with a flick of his wrist his percussion section cracks into another insistent, irresistible bhangra rhythm, call-and-response vocals and a keyboard descant once more creating something magical and exultant.

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