Live Review: Kirin J Callinan, Lost Animal, Scattered Order

At his sold-out June gig at the Tote, Sydney's Kirin J Callinan received the kind of eager congratulations usually reserved for long-suffering couples at an engagement party. If his ominous single W II W (Way To War) was the ring that promised the relief of a full-blown solo album, the nuptial we've been waiting for, then the real party would come once that album had been delivered. Tonight, on a break from recording and in the midst of industry-targeted gigs in Australia and the States, Callinan hosts casual drinks for friends old and new. The all-out lunacy – the costumes and unpredictability and weird merchandise – of a tour show has been pared back to something a little more relaxed, if such a word can be used to describe what Callinan does. He still struts about in waiters' suit pants and a singlet and gives dedicated, grunting and soaring performances of staple and previously unheard songs, but it's all quite jovial and calm. His usual veil of performance has been at least partially lifted. The man has face fluff.

The night starts off trippy enough with Sydney's Scattered Order, who have been making shroom-clouded post-punk since the late '70s. The group found their way onto Chapter Music's 2007 compilation Can't Stop It! 2 and have since had tracks released by New Weird Australia and Ascension Records. Geometric and heat-sensor projects coat the three members, who are individually engrossed by synths (three, maybe four, maybe five) and laptops, with bass guitar lines pinning the undulating noise. It's good stuff, transfixing and transcending, but it's also the stuff of 4am freak-outs. Saved for later.

Lost Animal appear in duo mode, keeping things sonically sparse if not emotionally light. Jarrod Quarrell can rarely be accused of leaving his songs' intentions at the door. He hunches over his microphone and huffs out man-on-the-edge lyrics, cutting a figure on the stage that is one part desperation to two parts don't-pull-a-knife-on-us. The size of the stage and the room swallows some of that energy (and perhaps the weight of Lost Animal songs is greater when they are the focus of the night) and Callinan, who played on LA's 2011 debut Ex Tropical, doesn't make a cameo on guitar. 

When Kirin J Callinan does appear, it's backed similarly simply by stand-up drumming and bass guitar. But there are also occasional electronic beats and two songs in we get a taste of what Callinan and The Presets' Kim Moyes, hired as producer for the album, have been working on. Moyes' influence is certainly apparent in the light use of Caribbean-influenced synths and overall grandness of production. Set against older songs built on Callinan's clawing guitar playing, it's piquing curiosity – what the hell will his album hold? Callinan isn't telling, but he is talking. He jokes about his failing mic stand – “sometimes even inanimate objects decide to hate you and other times you're an arsehole and you deserve it” – and the KJC-branded lighters he's selling at the merch desk along with his cassettes. “The Bic people came to me,” he smiles, “and I thought, 'Pens – I'm not writing that much. I haven't shaved for a while. I've been smoking a lot of cigarettes.' What are you laughing at? It's not funny.”

We do laugh and hoot as Callinan pulls out some elaborate dance moves. The Windmill gets a few goes, most effectively during late-set and forgotten song The Toddler, which features the standout line, “When I drop my guts you can see it in my face”. But those moments are cut with the gut-wrenching, scarred vocals and delicate guitar of 'ballads' Thighs and Landslide (or the “God is in the water” song). Even relaxed, Callinan is an undeniable presence. It isn't difficult to trust, too, that when Callinan is this unguarded, something seriously stormy is brewing in the background.