Let the cosmic carnival commence. Sound scientist Paddy Steer hits the stage like he’s just tumbled off a sci-fi B-movie parade float – his wizardly beard poking out from beneath an alien getup that looks welded together in a Martian junkyard. His one-man band rig is a glorious mess of analogue synths, battered drum pads, vocoders and spaceship-wrecked gadgets. The sound? A glitch-fest of malfunctioning robot orchestra vibes, like psychedelic deep space colliding with jazzy grooves, precision drums and wobbly synth swirls and bleeps. He’s excellent. As he shuffles off, he throws out a cheeky farewell: “Fancy dress grandad.” Iconic.

Beneath the vaulted ceilings of Live at St Mary’s, something otherworldly is unfolding. The anticipation hums in the air, and the crowd is gathered in a collective orbit. As the first quivers of synth shudder through the air, it’s clear that this isn’t a gig – it’s an abduction. HENGE materialise as if beamed down in a kaleidoscope of stardust robes, lunar headdresses and the kind of celestial regalia that suggests they’ve just stepped off a mothership mid-warp. The crowd, already a swirling mass of wide eyes and open minds, knows the drill. You don’t just watch HENGE – you surrender to them.

The disorienting synth that opens Ascending isn’t just a sound – it’s a wormhole ripping open in the fabric of the venue. A sampled countdown – ‘10, 9, 8, 7…’ – rumbles through the room, tension tightening like a coiled spring. ‘3, 2, 1, We have liftoff!’ The track launches into full overdrive, high-frequency oscillations bending the air. Enter frontman Zpor, cloaked in druidic attire, a plasma globe crackling on his head, grinning like a being who’s seen the edge of the universe and come back enlightened. Slingshot ricochets in, with crisp, kinetic beats and spiralling synths, and the crowd is loving it.

The frantically robotic Tardigrades is followed by Self-Repair Protocol, and the venue is swallowed by a vortex of glitchy 8-bit synths, warped vocals and instrumentation chaos The track unfolds, telling the tale of a malfunctioning robot stranded on a distant planet. On stage, the band channel pure extraterrestrial presence and the crowd can’t help but dance. Get a Wriggle On bursts in like a zany ‘70s TV adventure game show on turbo mode. There’s no standing still – only flailing, grinning and gleefully losing your mind in the mayhem.

HENGE hit like a technicolour ice-pop to the brain, melting into the senses with pure, psychedelic joy. It’s a headfirst plunge down a helter-skelter, glittering with colour and light-years ahead of anything else out there. Once you’re in, there’s no going back. The HENGE hive just keeps growing, glowing and grooving. Welcome to Voltus is a full-blown, theatrical space odyssey. Prodigy-style synths rip through Zpor’s heavily manipulated vocals, lifting the crowd higher as the chords ascend. “Breathe in the sonic rays,” Zpor commands, in a delightfully unearthly accent – his native tongue, of course, hailing from a far-flung planet. The lights cut out. Silence. Then, Zpor’s transmission crackles: “Mission successful. We have landed on Voltus B. Take in the atmosphere. Breathe in.”

From there, it’s pure intergalactic bliss. Goldilocks is spacey, Monolith pulses with Eastern techno mystique, while Altered State bounces off the walls, all blasting out joy-inducing frequencies. Then, the mighty New Planet arrives – a spectacular clash of space rock, throbbing techno and trippy prog. It feels like Ennio Morricone hijacked a Commodore 64 and jammed with Hawkwind and Ozric Tentacles in a pixelated galaxy. The band are all-in – Zpor, the ultimate rock warrior, wields his guitar like a weapon of nebular fury. Grok, a synth-raving maniac, thrashes with hair flying as the whole crew locks in tight, razor-sharp, yet always playful. It’s monumental.

“What do you think of the spaceship?” Zpor teases, eyes glinting mischievously. “We’ve disguised it as a church.” The crowd roars with delight, fully onboard for the sermon. He goes on to speak of visiting the ‘long water.’ A dramatic pause. With a sly grin, Zpor hoists a jar of murky liquid, declaring, “The river Goyt!” – Stockport’s own earthy stream. Moments later, In Praise of Water flows in, an irresistibly danceable chiptune tribute to life’s most primal need, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Demilitarise comes in as Grok flashes Dylanesque prompt-cards, urging the crowd to chant for peace and to ‘colonise space‘ – the words cementing themselves like a mantra. And then, as if leading his own galactic revolution, Zpor wades into the throng, his glowing staff held high. He weaves through the crowd and a conga-line of disciples forms, snaking joyfully around the venue. It’s like a final communion before HENGE depart, leaving their message of peace and unity. It’s fun and unforgettable.

By the time the final note dissolves into the ether, the room feels like it’s vibrating on a different frequency. HENGE don’t do encores – there’s no need. They’ve already cracked open reality and let the stardust in. As the earthbound shuffle out, one thing is clear: normal life will feel impossibly dull after this.