WE already knew it was coming, the end of Bellowhead after 12 years. Nevertheless, to hear it affirmed by the big man leading the dancing hordes gathered at his feet, with Monday's gig at its most giddying high, still came like a knockout blow.

Bellowhead are not only a folk big band, 11 members in all, they have become folk's biggest band, and they are leaving us at their peak, still topping past shows night after night. Why must they go now, you find yourself asking forlornly?

"This is our last ever gig in Harrogate," said singer, fiddler and principal arranger Jon Boden, whose decision in early 2015 to pursue other projects had the domino effect of the band calling time full stop.

Not that they are going in a hurry. This autumn's raft of farewell shows will be followed by the final curtain next spring, so the sting of salty tears must wait for their April concerts, and right now it feels you should keep dancing until the last morning after the night before.

There have been glorious farewells, The Band and LCD Soundsytem's final euphoric concerts caught forever on film for example, whereas The Jam, riven by Paul Weller's desire to break free, came unstuck before our eyes, unable to hide the enmity that had taken over.

Bellowhead's That's All Folks concerts are as joyous as their gigs have always been, maybe because the folk world has a habit of its musicians always finding another band, another configuration, another project, and it was ever thus. Hence the phlegmatic tone of their official statement: "The shows always finish on a high, and so should we."

This philosophy was carried over into Monday's concert, sold out like all the rest this month, and played to all ages, children, hardy folkies, courting young couples, grandmas and friends of the band.

Bellowhead have grown into a musical hydra, a band of all the talents, multi-instrumental to the max, with each taking their turn in the spotlight, doing introductions, revelling in each other's company.

Even if Boden is still the pied piper, he is not the only showman, and the band are a wonder to watch, so visually engaging and entertaining, from John Spiers on melodeon to Benji Kirkpatrick on guitar, Rachael McShane on cello and silver spangly heels to Sam Sweeney on fiddle and bagpipes.

Then add the brass section. They blow you over, like Ian Dury and The Blockheads, Madness and Gary Crosby's Jazz Jamaica All Stars, and all this with a ragbag of old, forgotten tunes, rising like Lazarus from the folk graveyard. Betsy Baker, McShane's plucked cello on Wedderburn, Let Union Be, fabulous all.

Bellowhead have aptly called their farewell compilation album Pandemonium, for this is the spirit which gradually takes over their performances, by the time everyone is on their feet, dancing gleefully, singing lustily to London Town and New York Girls.

They ended in a line at the stage apron, singing in harmony, united in Richard Thompson's Down Where The Drunkards Roll, the one sombre, hushed moment to remind you of the silence to fall next May.

Bellowhead will not go gently into the night, however. Even as 11pm approached on Monday, they were straight off to Major Tom's Social for an impromptu late-night all-comers folk session.