If Geoffrey O’Connor ever gives up music he should become a robber. Perennially the musical bridesmaid to more vaunted headliners, he’s the support act who always manages to steal the show. This time it was Sydney quintet Sherlock’s Daughter that he well and truly upstaged. It’s not that Sherlock’s Daughter were bad; in fact they were excellent. It’s hard not to like their drivingly interesting kind of off kilter pop and engaging stage presence. I’m even looking forward to their first EP, which hopefully isn’t too far away. But it was O’Connor’s set, which combined the lo-fi prettiness of his side project Sly Hats and the more up tempo dynamic of his other band Crayon Fields which was most impressive and proved once again that he is undoubtedly one of Melbourne’s brightest talents.

First up was ho-hum fivesome Swiss. Switzerland is a nation known for its watches, chocolates and army knives and this band showed why Switzerland isn’t known for its music. Forgetting a few giant screwups, namely playing a song in which each member seemed to be in a different key, this band was nothing special. They aped just about every indie music trend in the last five years, from Robots In Disguise’s new rave makeup, to Beth Ditto’s frontwoman histrionics -all with very little conviction. I’m glad I took notes because their brand of electro crossover was so bland that by the time I’d left the pub I’d already forgotten what they sounded like.

Blowing in after an interminably long tuneup, Geoffrey O’Connor was like a warm tropical breeze. The calypso lilt of his album Licorice Nights, with its gentle picking patterns and ponderous chord changes worked brilliantly, especially on tracks like I Am Ready To Fake It For You and Vampire Sips. There is an intimacy to his voice. It is so powerful in an understated way; each melodic syllable is breathed rather than sung. The addition of cellist Jess Venables (herself the author of an impressive LP under the moniker Jessica Says) was the perfect accompaniment. Her strident bowing worked as a counterweight to the prettiness of O’Connor’s compositions, infusing them with a tinge of melancholia. Think Nick Drake without the depression.

Despite some sound problems (which affected all the bands) and a few false starts on flanger wig out Proud, the second half of O’Connor’s set was just as good. Adding a bassist and drummer gave the songs another dimension; you could even dance to a couple of them. The only thing linking it to the first part was O’Connor’s beautiful voice and the quality of his song writing. One of the coolest things about O’Connor is his utter lack of pretension. His stage presence is minimal, but it just makes you focus more closely on the wonderful music he’s playing. I don’t know how he’s slipped through the net but he deserves much more praise than he gets. There’s another opportunity to see him when he supports The Bats on Friday night, and he’ll probably steal that show too.

With such a hard act to follow, it’s a credit to Sherlock’s Daughter that their set was so engaging. Their band name is made up of two seemingly disparate words that come together to make an interesting whole. Their music is exactly the same. Bassist William Turner and guitarist/keyboardist Liam Flanaghan create dynamic, spacey soundscapes (think Stereolab or Spaceman 3) over pounding drums. Then in with one 8-Bit chord from frontwoman Tanya changes the direction of the song completely, like in new single Kids. With her ululating hips and smoky vocals, she is undoubtedly the focal point of Sherlock’s Daughter. The rest of the band revolve gracefully around her, adding twee harmonies or DIY percussion (sandpaper, rhythm sticks etc) with an infectious energy which never feels forced as on the ballad In The End. An EP is nearly here, and if it is half as good as their live show it is definitely worth a listen.

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