With no support act, just a DJ in house, and a full crowd a half hour before the start of the show, we’re left to speculate over the familiar, surrealism-styled art of The Mars Volta that typically graces album covers. Tonight’s dominating spectre is something akin to a totem pole of unnerving eyeballs glaring out from compacted animal heads.

If music is god, and it is, all eyes are cast forward, ready to gaze on the prophets who speak progressive rock fusion better than anyone on earth.

Shuffling on stage, backed by sound scapes eerily similar to Ennio Morricone ’s early score work, tonight’s six piece enters and instruments are unceremoniously gathered and the sermon starts softly. The bouncing guitar riff of Son et lumiere echoes forth before exploding into Inertiatic ESP.

Excess energy escapes from vocalist Cedric Bixler-Zavala ’s body in every direction. Hair and arms punch holes while the mic stand looms dangerously as new monster Cotopaxi ascends through its odd time signatures to a wailing chorus.

While the 2009 album Octahedron may be their “acoustic” side there is no sign of slowing tonight as the other half of Volta, Omar Rodriguez-Lopez drops the waa pedal into L’via L’Viaquez. Behind the band menacing, painted figure heads and half-formed animals battle for prominence as the stage lights reveal different images under each light colour. Even John Frusciante, who originally recorded the solos for this track, would be jealous. The guitar work is flawless.

Without a pause the off-beat groove of Goliath fires up. Frenetic drums wind every band member to frenzy, time and time again. There is no way to explain the sheer force being hammered out of every string, skin, key or vocal chord without them breaking.

Eriataka ESP follows with heavy bass, and before long its time to take the first trademark, sonic stroll of the night. Having no dedicated sound manipulator or wind instrumentalist on this tour, this more subtle improv provides a welcome break and contrast to the wall of sound until now. No doubt, impulse makes them strong again though as the guitar stabs the tracks close.

Easing off the pedal completely, Since We’ve Been Wrong floats over the crowd. While the new album has brought a whole new audience to the band and proves their ability to craft haunting harmony, it is difficult to live up to live. How do you find another person with the androgenous vocal capacity needed to do it justice? You don’t, that’s why you do your own back ups.

Back to De-loused in the Comatorium and the suggested beck and call of Cicatriz ESP starts. As if defecting into themselves, Rodriguez-Lopez once again steps off the planet and loses himself in the sounds he so often tell us he hears that will someday stop. New drummer Dave Elitch is able to summon him back after a considerable break with his pounding solo, proof he is worthy of being part of the group. Arguably the best skin flicker they’ve had to date.

Bouncing between albums, Halo of Nembutals , Miranda That Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore_ and Teflon flow effortlessly, before reaching back to Amputechture for Viscera Eyes.

A shortened version of crowd favourite The Widow is introduced by Juan Alderete de la Peña ’s bass solo, which is as smooth as his name when you say it in your best Spanish accent (do it when no ones listening) and the vocals are pitch perfect tonight.

Roulette Dares (The haunt of) closes out the 2 hour non-stop set. The stabbing guitar riff that bookends the chorus finally gives way to the soothing come down of the outro. The sliding guitar lines, dipping synths and bobbing bass line is the sonic equivalent of riding off on a stretcher, medicated to the hilt, after you’ve been hit by something moving too fast to see. Bliss and confusion surrounds as the crowd is left wondering if it really is over for the night as the house lights slowly brighten.

Like the parting revelation of a psychopathic serial killer, this review (confession of a hopeless fanatic) has meant nothing. If you’ve never experienced this band live then you will, like Patrick Bateman, have learned nothing.