Now approaching their third decade, the multiplatinum-selling German-language rockers Rammstein continue to defy all accepted routes to stardom. This year, their seventh album debuted at No 1 in more than a dozen countries where German isn’t anywhere near being the native tongue. They write darkly humorous songs about cannibalism, and for years their live show featured simulated anal sex. Even the band’s origins are unlikely. Guitarist Richard Z Kruspe formed the band after fleeing East Germany, the Stasi on his tail.

Rammstein’s unusual approach extends to their live shows. Tonight’s stage set is extraordinary – part end-of-days Mad Maxesque mega structure, part Mordor’s Mount Doom. Pyrotechnics take place not just on stage but around the arena. There’s so much fire, in fact, that were aliens planning an invasion via Milton Keynes they’d likely see the flames being bellowed into the sky and beat a hasty retreat.

The show’s finest moment – during Mein Tell, whose lyrics reference the 2001 Armin Meiwes cannibalism case – sees singer Till Lindemann place keyboard player Christian “Flake” Lorenz inside a huge metal cauldron in the middle of the stage. He takes out a flamethrower, dousing the cauldron with it. Every time he does, Lorenz ducks. This continues until the keyboard player emerges from the cauldron timidly raising a white flag. It’s pure panto. Then Lindemann leaves the stage before returning in what can only be described as a small tank, blasting fire at his fleeing bandmate.

Of course, none of these antics would matter if the songs weren’t good. And yet they’re great, with the band’s newer material – the terrifying Puppe, irrepressibly catchy single Radio, sassy Ausländer – showcasing a sound that’s more pop than the industrial metal that has been the fulcrum of their sound in the past. It’s simply another example of the band doing exactly what’s not expected of them.