Mdou Moctar @ Drygate, Glasgow, 10 Apr

He may be known as "the Hendrix of the Sahara", but maybe that nickname should be rephrased. Mdou Moctar doesn't just ignite the desert blues that combines traditional Tuareg music with African American folk, but he projects pure and genius rock. Rock at its guitar-shredding, groove-gifting heights. Moctar takes on rock at face value and effortlessly grins his way through his instrumental fusion with a trio that’s well-rehearsed in explosive psychedelia. 

As for tonight's crowd? It's a mixed bunch of old rockers, edgy students treading the waters of a mosh pit, and lone enthusiasts who are wearing the T-shirt, clutching the record, while remaining firmly in the front to soak up the sound in admiration. There's a calm and unknowing atmosphere as Moctar enters alone and the band soon follow. Mikey Colton on bass, rhythm guitarist Ahmoudou Madassane and drummer Souleymane Ibrahim are the trio adding layers to this mind-bending recipe.

Not one word is said to the crowd, but the language is all in the music. The refreshing silence is captivated by the sound as the room fills with bellowing melodic patterns that spiral at mesmerising speed. It's hard to place where you are in each track due to their sheer intensity. The speed of Moctar’s fingers appears a few bars ahead of the instrumental sound. In Chismiten, Moctar shreds controlled energy on a white Fender Stratocaster – a contrast against the quickening pace of the drums. The crowd is held there in an overwhelmed frenzy (the good kind). 

Taliat embodies movement in the traditional Tuareg language Tamasheq. If a certain someone is blocking your view, and Moctar’s face is all you can see (he is very tall), there are moments when the musician looks entirely at peace, in his own meditative state – as if his fingers take over, detached from his sense of being. 

Mosh pits react to the chaotic brilliance and the silent bystanders loosen their necks a little more. Moctar releases a welcoming smile and lets his body follow the movement of his fingers, just for a second. The band is reactive to each other, in an all-knowing sense, giving very little away emotionally. Afrique Victime, the political voice that closes the show, is an ode to the country of Niger and its treatment by former colonial ruler France. The music tails off to cries and whistles of Glaswegian awe, with the psychedelic journey grounded by the familiar chant of: “One more tune! One more tune!”

Moctar returns, still silent, awaiting his fellow bandmates, before Asdikte Akal takes off in almighty flight. The final send-off we all need, as if the rest of the gig wasn’t enough. Moctar’s voice is lost to the cheering crowd and the fascinating turmoil between the electric guitar and escalating drums. We unite in sound, as Mdou Moctar emit otherworldly rock fusion – a language that transcends the meaning of words.