It was an unusual scene to unfold at The Forum on a chilly Thursday evening, the venue accommodating only an enthusiastic few punters just minutes before the first support act.

The exceedingly eccentric Kirin J Callinan would soon take to the stage, a lone figure intent on bewildering an unsuspecting audience with an obscure creative outlook. Callinan commands a deep, booming voice that succeeds in crafting a haunting presence, the echoed roar of an electric guitar surging across a sparse dance floor. The guitar, but for an array of loops and effects courtesy of pedals, would be Callinan’s only accompaniment, the performer a strange cross between Winnie The Pooh’s Eeyore and Jeff Buckley. You read correctly.

The result is difficult to interpret, an unorthodox, scrambling mess of noise ensuing, forever crackling and buzzing from song to song. In addition, the scattered, manic segues devoid of rhyme and reason, seemingly aimless and unfounded in their nature do little to relieve a puzzling approach. Callinan’s threadless, free-form style is polarizing stuff, and it’s challenging to understand exactly his underlying appeal. Sure enough, the confounding show was taken to new, baffling depths as he removed his shirt for no apparent reason, his set then continuing as normal. Soon after, dance moves emerged – and oh, how they did – his repertoire boasting many more pelvic thrusts than what might be considered normal, each more enthused than the last. This, combined with whimsical lyrical content – a crooning, confronting plea of ‘Don’t go down to the basement / Daddy’s buried there’ – truly established Callinan as an exceptionally peculiar individual, but ultimately one with little to no connection with an appropriately astonished audience.

Whilst his music might be absurdly esoteric, Callinan’s overall performance fails to entertain, the fiddling of pedals and a criminally-underused guitar missing the mark entirely in an effort to engage with a crowd. Even if you focus solely on his presence, the execution alone of his music, Callninan just isn’t interesting to watch. A tendency to speak incomprehensibly between songs only worsened the situation. He left the stage, shirt in hand, leaving The Forum speechless. Perhaps it was the wrong time, wrong place, wrong crowd. But such a notion only serves as the basis for an important series of questions to follow: what time, what place, and last of all, what crowd? It was a challenging start to the night to say the least and one that served neither the audience nor the performer particularly well.

Sydneysiders Dappled Cities appeared before a building Forum crowd with an indulgent plan of attack, road testing a bunch of new songs penned for their next album. The move would ultimately prove a welcome decision, the material heightening anticipation for their latest offering. A methodical march of percussion kicked off the set, jangling guitars and keys aligning to forge an enticing hook. Dappled Cities boast the utmost confidence, the quintet presenting themselves as an accomplished outfit that excels in ingenuity, their compositions a spirited collection of intriguing twists and turns amidst a backdrop of fine indie-rock. In some moments they recall a series of UK exports, emerging as a kind of Australian answer to The Maccabees.

Dappled Cities throw each energetic element of their expertise together into one glorious fit of indie-rock heaven, providing an extremely polished, highly disciplined performance that, on this particular occasion, made the promise that this band was ready to ignite. Single The Price, a Triple J favourite, was received well by the otherwise reserved Melbourne public; an epic, emphatic finale of crunching guitars and crashing cymbals following to leave a lasting impression.

A giant cloud-like monstrosity was lowered from the ceiling, apparently signalling the arrival of Melbourne’s own Midnight Juggernauts. As psychedelic visualizations, scenes and images began to project onto its surface, a dizzying, blinding light show began as the band exploded with a heavy blast of synth backed with impressively raucous beats. Shadows, from the band’s debut record, soon helped pave the way for the performance that would follow. Predictably, Midnight Juggernauts brought their best dose of magnificent dance-electronica to the table, simple-yet-effective basslines encouraging the once-placid crowd to degenerate into a fanatical sea of flailing limbs.

The band wield an authoritative yet comfortable groove, combining well to bring slick, accessible anthems into fruition that take on a new life live when compared with their studio counterparts. Favourite Vital Signs continued the hyper-electronic textures, each wave of sound buzzing and echoing beautifully. Midnight Juggernauts work well to create an entertaining, pulsating spectacle, and one that seeks to replicate the experience of, for instance, a club. For that reason, there is a degree of monotony to be withstood. Still, one suspects that the need is to surrender yourself to their music, a feat not made difficult. After all, they are a boisterous bunch with a series of compelling and measured tracks to date, with the promise that the best is yet to come. And only bigger, better opportunities surely await: with such a wall of noise constantly bursting from amps and speakers, it’s hard to imagine them playing anywhere else but The Forum or similarly large venues. Their sheer, unchecked enormity is both truly powerful and a pleasure to witness.

It was, all in all, a varied evening that provided an array of talking points. The one that stood out, however, was the potential of both Dappled Cities and Midnight Juggernauts respectively, who look set to seize further fame and prominence having proved in this one night that they are more than worthy recipients of each. It seems all too easy in this constant climate of such awesome international star-power to lament the state and the exploits of our homegrown industry, but shows such as these, with such promise and potential, bode well for the future.