It's clear from the moment DakhaBrakha takes the Festival International stage April 25 that it won't be an ordinary show. The group is comprised of one man and three women, the latter of which appear in white, floor length dresses, chunky ropes of wooden bead necklaces -- and nearly two-foot-tall furry black hats.

Not looking to await an introduction, each of the four members -- Marko Halanevych, Olena Tsybulska, Nina Harenetska and Iryna Kovalenko -- were already seated onstage before their introductions. They sat stoically, calmly awaiting the go-ahead before one of the women began beating out a pulse on her drum.

Their voices rose, at once harmonizing and undulating between each member's turn at a pealed-away solo. The music switches from melancholy cello with haunting drumbeats to the pulls of an accordion.

"Hello everybody," Halanevych said, his voice staccato, like he spoke words from a remembered script. "We are from free Ukraine."

The range of this band is such that each member deftly handles harmonies and their own distinct turns, picking at one instrument then pulling out another. They layer sounds over one another, using their voices to create the sounds of the instruments not on hand. One of the women closes her eyes, feeling her way through the song.

"Background of our music is in Ukrainian singing tradition," Halanevych said again. "We make experiments with different genres. Enjoy."

Red light bathes the musicians as they begin to snap their fingers, and it's another rise. One band-member picks up an instrument that sounds something like a kazoo, but her fingers pick at holes to change the resonance as she hums into it. Her counterpart to her left sings a steady, "Mmmm.... ahhhhh," and another rhymes something with a rap-like cadence into the microphone.

An audience member at the front row raised her hand into the air, pressing something to free a steady stream of bubbles into the air. They rose, catching the breeze that wafts over the crowd, and stole away into the clear night.