After establishing themselves with two remarkable albums and a theatrical, space-age live show, there was only one thing that 12-piece electro-disco orchestra Chrome Hoof could do: make a third album that raised the bar and develop the live show to stratospheric proportions. Tonight, launching Crush Depth with fizz and aplomb, they have succeeded.

David Holmes, billed to appear, unfortunately doesn’t, leaving Andy Weatherall to play an extended set of consistent trance and breaks. As with Nathan G Wilkins, to say that Weatherall’s set is unremarkable isn’t to pay him a left-handed compliment. The pulse is uninterrupted, so persuasive that it acts as a kind of anaesthetic. It’s almost as if the bass sneaks up, rolling over your shoulders and making the floor tremble underfoot.

And by then, the recently reopened Brocking Street warehouse, with 5,000 square feet of floor space and a 4.5 metre high ceiling, is filling up. At the beginning of the night you could have fitted a small aircraft into the space. Or a small spacecraft, such is Chrome Hoof’s vibe. When they arrive onstage, the place is rammed.

The stage fills with forceful rushes of smoke, turning red and yellow like dragon’s breath. Eleven members walk monastically onstage, draped in silver gowns, their faces shadowy under hoods. Singer Lola Olafisoye commands the eye. And then, lift-off. With bass, drums, sparkling guitars and silver violins, ‘Crystalline’ peaks in lines like “Are you lost in the wondermaze?” with Olafisoye shrieking, seductively wailing like a sorceress.

Following new single ‘Vapourize’, ‘Labyrinth’ is rich with hokey witch-like incantations, an assurance of immortality. Two dancers, tall upon pillars, thrust and move in unison amidst falling green lazer lights during the extended introduction to ‘Sea Hornet’, which finishes like Jaga Jazzist soundtracking 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Then comes the turn. Focussing on Olafisoye makes you forget that Chrome Hoof are the unlikely brainchild of brothers Milo and Leo Smee, previously of monstrously heavy stoner/doom band Cathedral. In a definite second movement, a seamless stylistic about-turn, the band delivers ‘Third Sun Descendent’, thick with crunchy chords and vampiric vocals.

It’s after 2am, the strobe lights strike on every drumbeat, and as if in homage to metal forefathers Iron Maiden, the band welcome their secret member – a gangly thirteen-foot silver cyberman who wiggles his shiny shoulders until the end of the set. Crush Depth has been launched in spectacular style. Chrome Hoof raise the pressure to such a pitch that it’s impossible not to get swept up in the tide of the night. Kiran Acharya

Lola Olafisoye photographed by Katy Chan