Goat @ Albert Hall, Manchester, 22 Oct

Some events are kind of unthinkable, right up until just before they happen. Having long since sold out, that fact that the Albert Hall isn’t just filled with grey beards, whose best ever nights started with some bad speed in a pub toilet in Castlefield in 1999, is testament to how the new wave of psychedelia has broken new ground with a wider audience, to astonishing effect.

Goat’s Rocket Recordings labelmates and fellow Swedes Josefin Öhrn & The Liberation do pretty well in laying out the sonic vocabulary for the rest of the night – repetitive drum patterns and chord progressions, swirling and throbbing synths, guitars and bass provide a colourful and dreamy foundation for Öhrn’s ghostly yet sultry vocal, not dissimilar in tone to Nico or Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth. Though their style might be a little studied, highlights like the slinky Rushing Through My Mind win over the early arrivals.     

With a darker, heavier approach, Liverpool’s Mugstar bring their instrumental stoner rock, with occasional forays into spacier post-rock territory, to a now packed-out music hall. After operating in the underground for over a decade, with tonight’s frenzied response and their recent signing to Mogwai’s Rock Action records, the world seems at last to be catching up with their churning, thundering musical manifesto.

Some of sharpest songwriting tonight, however, comes from the Northwest’s own Jane Weaver, especially on closer I Need A Connection. Her versatile, celestial and penetrative voice is never overcrowded by the richly textured synths and tight post-punk basslines of her hyper-modern, French wave krautpop – imagine Alison Goldfrapp fronting Neu! and you’re nearly there.

Having emerged from Leeds’ fertile DIY scene a few short years ago, it’s striking how completely at home Hookworms appear in a venue of this size. A motorik drum machine builds the tension before they explode into furious, white-hot punk noise, as they tear through selections from  2014's The Hum. Frontman MJ cries out, echoing around the hall over sheets of distortion during Radio Tokyo and The Impasse. Easing off slightly on Beginners, the band gradually vacates the stage, packing up their own equipment over squalling and stuttering electronic oscillations, having surely reached new heights.

For all their obscurity, with their ornate masks, head-to-toe striped robes and quasi-mysticism, Goat have found a unique and powerful way of connecting with a large crowd. From the frenetic percussion lines, shamanistic chanting and shimmering guitar fuzz of opener Words, the two mysterious frontwomen pound the stage and gesticulate wildly between yelling fired-up, Slits-esque mantras.

The irrepressible energy of this band radiates throughout the crowd, bringing them to their feet through an impressive range of styles and moods. From the surf-funk of Disco Fever and the folkier, reflective I Sing In Silence, both from their latest album Requiem, Goat surge between Trouble In The Streets' giddy hybrid of Middle Eastern-informed guitar music and highlife, and the dark, menacing, high-speed heaviness of Goat Slaves and Talk To God.

But it’s the collective experience to which the band always returns. Their anonymity removes all ego from the performance; defenses are lowered and the event becomes more centered on shared experience and communality – elements more often associated with rave culture at its best. To hear the thousands in attendance sing along with Run To Your Mama is pretty remarkable, and the warm glow remains through the encore to the earthy strut of Let It Bleed. These enigmatic figures may not really know world-healing witchcraft, but whatever they do know is certainly working.