Live Review: John Grant, Caitlin Park

Moomba celebrations has the city spinning out of control as revellers and rival street gangs take it to the streets. The Forum offers sanctuary for those seeking musical entertainment that's more brooding than the booming rave that seems to be happening down at Birrarung Marr in among all the carnival rides. Caitlin Park, accompanied by a couple of friends, primes the crowd with soft bluesy folk that comes with a modern twist of electronica. Park delivers soft dreamy moments that are pushed and pulled out of shape by heavy bass and angular electronics that sit uneasily with the rootsy intent of these tunes.

Patron saint of the broken-hearted and all-round drama queen, John Grant has carved a career with a string of largely autobiographical songs inspired by doomed love affairs. Through a generous show that runs for almost two hours, Grant deals a decent selection of tunes from last year's Grey Tickles, Black Pressure in among old favourites. The golden warmth of Geraldine and Down Here kick off the show. It feels like classic mid-tempo Midlake dosed up on a bit of maudlin syrup. While Grant's wit shines on his lyrics, these tunes hold few surprises. It's the messy lyrical contemplation of his midlife crisis nightmare on Grey Tickles, Black Pressure that sees Grant really start to throw the emotional punches for which he is known. I Wanna Go To Marz offers dreamy escape into ice cream, while It Doesn't Matter To Him deals gut wrenching heartbreak while the band take an escalator ride upward on a wild crescendo of post-punk angles and heavy guitars. Perhaps it's the influential brilliance of Budgie's drumming that evokes the era. It's disappointing that no one in the crowd seems to understand who he was but this doesn't stop him from absolutely smashing the skins with sticks firmly in grasp of those black leather gloved hands.

Instead of getting heavy-handed Grant heads to the dancefloor to blow off some steam. The jittery electro tech funkiness of Pale Green Ghosts and Guess How I Know sees Grant pulling shapes while the crowd grooves along. It is however the sobering Glacier, a bona fide underground pride anthem that has many of the daddy bears in the crowd shedding a quiet tear. Queen Of Denmark unleashes a storm of bitter emotions and the bleakest melancholia that has become something of a singalong with fans. His inner misanthrope starts to shine on GMF. The brilliance of Grant's tenor shines victorious on these tunes to dazzling effect. The deep house groove of Disappointing unfurls a party ahead of encores.

Encores blast off with the booming vibes of Voodoo Doll before we are allowed to bask in the synth heavy glow of No More Tangles, which deals bleak heartbreaking melancholia. Doing it solo on an electric piano Drug continues in a similarly devastating trajectory. It's the unfettered love of Caramel that sees Grant's vocals take flight and head towards somewhere more hopeful. The crowd leave silently but completely spellbound.