It has been barely 48 hours since I was packed in tight spaces with sweaty bodies at the Big Day Out, and entering the Old Museum is a stark contrast to those surroundings. It is a first time visit, and as I enter I am struck by the unmistakable beauty and charm of the building. It is small, and feels incredibly intimate, perfectly appropriate surroundings for Owen Pallett’s orchestral indie pop. Even at this point, though, it is difficult to really appreciate what would be witnessed later on.

Melbourne talent Jessica Says alludes to it in her lovely opening slot. She clearly is very honoured be on tour with Pallett, and I’m sure is disappointed tonight it will come to an end. Her sullen gothic pop and ethereal voice proves somewhat of a match to Pallett, while not as complex as him, she is highly enjoyable in her own right.

As Pallett casually takes the stage, I am still unaware of what is about to be witnessed. I had heard little details about his performance, complete with loop pedals and various other gadgets that make the common mind simply boggle at his level of comprehension. He is, in other words, the epitome of the one man band. Pallett opens with Final Fantasy track The CN Tower Belongs to the Dead. It’s at this point everything finally falls into place.

It’s difficult to explain in words what makes Owen Pallett so special. He is a man who has professed is a firm disbelief in any form of showmanship. He likes to keep things simple, in his utterly complex way. If the rapturous applause and cheers from the tiny crowd are any indication (which follow every single song and swarm the echoic building), he is winning these people over incredibly easily without showmanship. What began to wash over my mind, and I imagine several others in the room, is how can a man so immensely talented be so humble? Even the occasional mistakes he makes in the complex setup are graced with modesty, and they are easy to forgive.

It’s hard to imagine a better pairing for the Old Museum than Owen Pallett, to the point where it feels built simply to set the stage for this performance. It is indeed a beautiful, vintage space full of enormous charm, and these characteristics are lifted immensely through his performance. The swirling orchestral pop totally devours the small room, and everyone in it. Pallett takes tracks from his 2010 album Heartland and EP A Swedish Love Story, both Final Fantasy albums and a track from old band Les Mouches, at the behest of an audience member. Despite Pallett’s insistence on a customised set, everything he plays is so utterly lovely there is no general concern about any omissions.

He finishes his pre-encore set with Heartland favourite Lewis Takes Off His Shirt, and comes back with two final tracks, Oh Heartland, Up Yours! and a cover of Caribou’s Odessa which would make Snaith himself bend at the knees.

Few gigs have the same effect on me, simultaneously bewildered by the exquisite performance that was just witnessed and deeply saddened that it may be a while before I get the opportunity to see it again. This was one of them.