John Maus divides opinion. You either love or hate his dark synthpop; his 80s-esque, medieval melodies and droning, dead harmonies. Tonight, the Dome is filled with the former – a sold-out crowd of excitable lovers of the Minnesota-born musician. It’s a good thing too because anyone unsure about Maus is only going to be left completely bewildered by this performance.

It’s not that he lacks passion or energy – quite the opposite. He thuds and pounds across the stage, whacking himself on the head, thumping his chest, sending sprays of water across the floor as he alternatively sings his lyrics or lets out anguished guttural cries. No, his energy certainly isn’t in doubt. It’s just that he’s singing over a tape, a tape that’s already playing his vocals.  And for some reason, the venue lights are kept up full for the first twenty minutes of the show, which adds to the strange school hall vibe of the whole place. It’s all a touch odd to begin with, this strange philosophic karaoke but after a while, it becomes secondary.

Who cares if Maus is singing to a backing track? The songs are still brilliant. ‘Rights For Gays’, ‘Quantum Leap’ and a maudlin version of Body Count’s ‘Cop Killer’ are stunningly good. Yes, they sound the same as they do on the album but when you’re listening to the record, you don’t have the pleasure of seeing a hectic thirty-something stumbling around the stage as if he’s about to have a heart attack.

For some, John Maus will just be a case of the emperor’s new clothes. For others, knowledge of Maus’ philosophy, his convoluted meanings and rambling explanations for the music make him a musical genius. And for the rest of us, the songs are just damn good.

Louise McHenry