The Romanian force of nature that is Taraf De Haidouks left their Glasgow audience in the same tizzy as they've been pleasurably inflicting on music lovers around the world since their international breakthrough almost 25 years ago.

But we had to kiss a few frogs before we got to the princes on this occasion.

Even the undoubted charm and likeable self-deprecation of Finnish violinist Pekka Kuusisto couldn't mask the feeling that his opening set of largely improvised, electronically sampled-in-situ pieces, though in parts beautiful and brilliantly worked, could have been condensed into an altogether more potent contribution half this one's length. And if the Hilliard Ensemble, like Kuusisto, had gone off-script, their still masterly singing could have provided something a bit less chewy than the remorseless setting of Dante's Divine Comedy on offer here.

Leaving aside what form the Romanian hosts' friendship with their guests might take, after an uncertain start – while the onstage sound settled down and frowns were exchanged – the troupe set about putting serious smiles on faces. Virtuosity might be understating the case for the flute, violin, clarinet and accordion wizardry that flies on the engine-room power of a rhythm section comprising a cymbalum player in perpetual motion and a slapping, snapping double bass dynamo.

It's a glorious, apparently freewheeling racket, pausing only for the beseeching balladeering, characterful shimmying and shameless mugging for the camera of their octogenarian heartthrob. Those brave enough tried a few dance steps in some delirious, abacus-requiring time signature. The rest of us just stood or sat in awe, trying to remember how to bring our jaws back into position again.

HHH