A vision of Marc Bolan in white cassocks stood centre-stage.

Surrounding him were 23 angels similarly robed, some with harps, some with flutes, tabla or trumpets, all bearing beatific smiles and singing with joyful abandon.

Hundreds of people surrounded me, their upturned hands raised in the air. This wasn't rock'n'roll - this was paradise.

Plucked from obscurity in Texas, by the divine hand of David Bowie for this year's Meltdown Festival, the freakish configuration of Tim DeLaughter's (the aforementioned Bolan dead-ringer) Polyphonic Spree has made them this year's must-see spectacle.

Never mind how they fitted on the Concorde's stage, how on earth did they fit in the tour bus? And whose house did they have to mortgage to foot the bill of their first UK tour?

All these questions, especially the one about how much cyanide-laced Kool-Aid this strange southern cult gets through on the average Tuesday, vanished the moment they filed on to the stage.

To be unkind, it took 24 of them to sound like a cross between Mercury Rev and the Beach Boys topped off by DeLaughter's Neil Young falsetto.

But any such malicious thoughts were quickly banished as they surged into It's The Sun, the uplifting gospel-symphony from the debut album The Beginning Stages Of ...

The Concorde's acoustics meant some of the subtleties, like most of the choir, were lost in the rafters.

But as they brought a 90-minute show to a close with an euphoric rendition of Bowie's Five Years (from the Ziggy Stardust LP), it was an orchestral hit of serotonin.

For some reason, the fat, sweaty bloke next to me put his arm around me. And for some reason, I didn't mind - too much.

The Polyphonic Spree live is a sneak preview of what you always hoped heaven would be like.

And, like, we were all invited.