Perhaps the most intriguing notion about tonight’s mighty double bill is that it brings together a young, neo-futuristic math-rock act (and on top of that Australia’s finest math-rock act, I should add) and a veteran retro-futuristic performer who dominated the UK charts 30 years ago before settling into the “cult artist” domain after a wane in mainstream popularity and recently acquiring the somewhat dubious “Godfather of Electro” (Giorgio Moroder anyone?) tag. The curiosity factor is high and I can’t help but wonder how it’s going to be: the old dog showing the nascent pups how it’s done or the said pups making the dog look tired and old indeed? Let’s find out…

Much to my initial annoyance, Sydney’s instrumental music supremos Pivot have already started playing by the time I arrive at the Tivoli, however I’m immediately relieved when I find out that the pounding tour-de-force In The Blood is their opening track tonight; decked out in smart attire and periodically getting swathed in light, brothers Richard and Laurence Pike (ever the tornado behind the drumkit) and the laptop wizard Dave Miller sway to the mechanic groove with utter abandon. Aside from song order, the trio’s set differs little from their festival-stealing Laneway slot and they tear into it with usual fire and vigour. A new, more commonly-structured song with conventional vocals and lyrics (!) gets aired again; Fool In Rain’s Vangelis-like keyboard lines and moody chord progression are delicately sublime and the palm-muted arpeggios/wordless chorus of Sing, You Sinners are a sheer aural joy. The fierce clutter and abrasive Jazzmaster punctuations of Didn’t I Furious give way to the thudding dance rhythm and serpentine, minimalist guitars of Sweet Memory (complete with the pulsing outro which interestingly sounds not unlike Mezzanine-era Massive Attack) before the now-traditional O Soundtrack My Heart finish, Richard laying thick bass grooves over the haunting Tangerine Dream-meets-JMJ synth patterns. Once that monumental tune fades, I recall how Pivot’s Laneway show made perfect sense in the bright afternoon sun and how it does likewise in the Tiv’s murky surroundings, aided by the sci-fi grade light show and Blade Runner-style pylon backdrops. Keep up the spirit, lads!

After such an immaculate start, one can only expect the headliner to come out and kill – because not doing so would result in a major disappointment considering the not-insignificant ticket fare. Another notion to ponder is that despite the Sydneysiders’ astounding form, not every old-school goth (of which there are plenty here tonight) in the crowd has eagerly lapped up Pivot’s modernist sounds, even though they are here to see Gary Numan who, along with Kraftwerk and David Bowie, is credited with inventing the whole “robot rock” aesthetic (as Daft Punk and a legion of other electronic acts would attest), and is thus “the real deal”. Wearing considerably lighter colours, the “mainstream” fraction of the crowd largely consists of British expats and those who were there when the synth-pop revolution happened in the first place – and wants to dance to Numans’s old hits like it’s 1980.

The tall boots-clad main attraction, however, appears to have completely different thoughts, opening with the relentlessly crunchy In A Dark Place from 2006’s Jagged and continuing to walk along his chosen – and largely self-devised – industrial-rock path for the rest of his set. Backed by a powerhouse five-piece band (with all members styled to look like they’d be happily assisting Marilyn Manson, Trent Reznor or The Prodigy) and in top vocal shape tonight, the original Paranoid Android turns his 1979 UK#1 hit Cars into a muscular, chugging rocker that completely strips the paint off the Fear Factory cover. Following an impassioned Jagged cut Haunted, the Tubeway Army epic Down In The Park does the same to MM’s take and tracks from acclaimed – œ90s releases Exile and Pure brim with the sort of vitality NIN usually aim for – albeit minus the self-loathing. Smiling wide and proud, the artist urges us to chant on the piano-interspersed Are – œFriends’ Electric?; aided by the crowd choir, the Sugababes-sampled classic kicks on a mega-horsepower scale and the quadruple encore of We Are So Fragile, Pressure, I Die: You Die and I, Assassin generates soaring-decibel reaction. The only setback is We Are Glass’s conspicuous absence, but mesmerised by the sound and spasm-inducing lights (best light show this writer has seen since Muse at the River Stage in 2007, hands down), the Numanoids don’t seem to mind in the slightest. As one attendee later eloquently put it, all hail the electro-industrial Overlord!