To be fair, it might not all be the bands fault. After all, London metal fans are used to dark, dingy venues like the Underworld; tonight they seem lost in a sense of awe and confusion as they walk into what feels suspiciously like a posh barn illuminated by flood lights, complete with food stalls that charge obscene pricesfor reheated slop.

Despite the support act dragging out tediously, they've barely left the stage and chants of "Opeth, Opeth!" fill the air as something resembling excitement spills into the atmosphere. However, when the Swedish quintet do take to the stage in the decidedly unpronounced way of 'just wandering on' a roar fills the room and the band strike into the first of many epic progressive metal masterpieces of the evening. Ghost of Perdition is the first to feature synchronised visuals on an enormous video back drop, supplementing the impact of the crushing tune.

The roundhouse may often be used as a theatre venue, but that is still no excuse for Michael Akerfeldt totally forgetting any lines for his mid betwixt song banter other than "We are from Sweden!". Even the subtle variances of "Do you know where Stockholm is?" do little to hide the fact that this man is either totally off his face, or just not much of a talker; and I have just an inkling that shyness isn't the issue this evening.

As if seeking to set up a contrast of extremes, when the meekest man in metal shuts up and plays the songs we've come to see, they are some of the very finest metallic constructions in existence. While material from Ghost Reveries goes down swimmingly, it is pre millennial favourites that really excite the crowd tonight, and by the time the visuals from the 1997's Morningrise album have hit the huge back drop projection screen, the appreciation is deafening.

The trippy lava lamp lights are turned up to 11 for a psychedelic mellow moment from Damnation, which Michael informs us are "the songs that get us the chicks!" Even though he actually manages to swear a couple of times this evening, Mr Akerfeldt is a bit of an anomaly in Metal front men. He is perhaps the only Death Metal musician you could take home to meet your mum, safe in the knowledge he wouldn't sacrifice the cat to Beelzebub.

However, for all they might lack in stereotypical charisma, Opeth make up for it tenfold with sprawling, brooding marathons that gently soothe and swiftly attack within seconds of each other. The Swedes might not be playing to a full house tonight, but never the less, they are most certainly oozing the same genius as some of the masters who've shared this stage in days gone by.

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