Circulating the interweb is a rather intriguing story about Goat's peculiar conception. The band supposedly hail from a remote cleft of northern Sweden, conceived in a minute rural town with the phonetically bewildering title 'Korpilombolo'. Their musical output is the contemporary expression of this village's deep voodoo heritage; Goat an appellation that isn't specific to them, but in fact used for centuries by various incarnations of the village band.

It's a fascinating tale, and to be honest disbelieving seems equally as fallible as believing in an age when anything we see is rarely without veneer. Whether real or not it holds meaning; it conjures the concept of ritual, ignites thoughts on tradition and heritage - it re-contextualises music itself as a communal vehicle for celebration, delivering it from the evils of image, material status and peripheral gains. Fake or not, it's a very real statement.

World Music, Goat's dynamic debut, was one of 2012's indisputable highlights. It seats the all-familiar tropes of western rock'n'roll, soul and funk amongst a consort of more worldly musical heritages - including afro-beat (heavy Fela Cuti vibes), Latin jazz and the percussion heavy, monophonic structures of Middle Eastern music. It's celebratory, revelatory and deeply entrenched in a universal sense of ritual - you can search out specific identities within but the whole remains a singular, all-encompassing unit.

Tonight, Goat is part live band, part anonymous ritual; the bands individual identities shrouded by their various exotic robes and the theatricality of accompanying masks. They don't walk on stage but instead merely appear, from amongst a dim and swollen light. Rich tribal beats begin, followed by a twisted pang of guitar, with its Krautrock-spike meets Chic-disco-groove. The twin vocals begin - further testifying a sense of anonymity. The band is fronted by the sounds it produces; it has no familiar face but for the collective grin of ritual.

The album rushes by, its sense of departure and re-imagination translated wonderfully in a live environment. Tracks like 'Goatman' or 'Run For Your Mama' - much like their presence on the album - hold an elevated status without being denounced as 'singles' - no doubt special, but still just componentry in a larger, sanctified whole. In tune with the shifting nature of the music - as it roams and evokes vast corners of the globe - the lighting is erratic and stark - fully illuminating at points of tribal climax, dimming again during the more mysterious and hazy throes of mid-song instrumentation.

But throughout the evening, there was a peculiar stich of incongruity. A flash of Adidas trainers under robes, a very mild loss of spirit in the downtime between tracks, the appearance of labelled bottles of beer and water and other. I know it's odd to pick up on these small and indifferent inconsistencies, but I only do so because it further valorised the message. World Music after all is not about decentralising the dominant west and recentralising other cultural outputs, it's about eradicating the center entirely. This causal blend, this weird clash of attitudes and appearances, is somehow part of that - somehow more telling about the state of equality and the way we receive music from beyond our shores.

As I expressed earlier; whether the image is real or not, Goat still make a very real statement, and that statement translates live with a full and exacting lucidity. You'll find ritual in every hemisphere. We all dance to the beat of our own specific tribes and Goat thematically suggest that under the swell of culture, maybe, perhaps, potentially - that dance is synonymous and universal.