Live Review: This Is Nowhere

In a glass cabinet by UWA's Dolphin Theatre, a miniature mock-up of the inaugural This Is Nowhere festival suggested that somewhere at the back of the Somerville Auditorium wild cows were roaming, no doubt in thrall to one of the most eclectic and forward thinking line-ups ever to grace Perth.

The day began with an uncompromisingly psychedelic sandwich, with the angular mathrock of High Tea the meat between locals Mayor Dadi and peroxide Californian crumpets Puro Instinct – playing as a two-piece for the first time having fired their bass player the previous week for not learning the songs. Whilst slightly ragged around the edges, they injected a healthy dose of personality and thrift shop glamour. Meanwhile, early on in the Dolphin Theater – a space normally reserved for under-funded university theatre work – James Ireland reiterated how much he deserved his spot on the bill with a cascade of eerie sound typical to form, before Dro Carey proved an amazing late inclusion. He's 19 years old and makes superb music for Sydney's own Templar Sound. Witnessing him string together sound in the flesh was aural pleasure.

Out in the Auditorium, the intimate lo-fi Japanese pop of Tenniscoats couldn't have been better suited to the natural surroundings and broken shards of light between the pines. Every festival should unearth a surprise, and for many Tenniscoats were just that. Their finale, which saw the pair descend into the audience to play unamplified, was one of those unexpected, liberating moments that makes life worth cherishing. Quebecois (a sometimes separatist province of Canada – it's complicated) alt-electronica solo artist D'Eon did not really suit what was going on inside Dolphin. When he worked his big Korg synthesizer it sounded wonderful; but when he started singing words it was always kinda weird – okay, his routine is about alienation and sincerity or whatever, but hearing an adult man yell “The pussies, they fuck each other in the throat” over mellow synth-pop felt like watching awkward high school performance art in motion.

The entrance of the Bank Holidays unfortunately coincided with the arrival of rain, but undaunted fans were treated to a fine collection of sharp songs with reassuringly familiar wit and self-depreciation. Meanwhile on Jackson Court, Chris Coblis followed Rachel Dease's Casio-accompanied tales of misfortune with a daring set of seemingly improvised music that ranged between acoustic strums and white noise. In the dryer Dolphin Theatre Ikonika occupied the stage for almost 70 minutes; working tracks from Contact Love Want Hate, I Make Lists, and Edits into what was for the most part a relentless 4/4 tech-house tempo from a time past. The intensity wasn't quite anticipated; her records are often more introspective combinations of UK garage, post-dubstep and residual house, but immersed in the Dolphin Theatre's warm innards, Sara Abdul-Hamed's manic pace summoned all the sweat and dilated pupils it warranted. And if Ikonika was the '90s disco biscuit, then Slugabed was a return to '90s hip hop – still post-dubstep, still electronic, but with a hypnotic shift down in tempo – applying hip hop and soul sounds liberally, saturating his already squelching interpretation of dubstep with an organic shift in focus. Slugabed generally signs off on his remixes with 'ruined by Slugabed', but his live reinterpretations of Gritsalt and Sex were so totally the opposite of ruined, it felt like living a version of that video he made where he turns a mixtape into juice and we were all drinking it.

Having started life as a fairly bog-standard doom band, tonight was an appreciation of how far Grails have advanced, as the six-piece tackled expansive prog epics brimming with scorched, desert sounds and the occasional pedal steel climax. Part of the fun of Xiu Xiu is watching the sound-check, as whilst Angel Seo set up her exotic gazillion -piece percussion set, Jamie Stewart angrily gesticulated that the levels were nowhere near cranked enough. Not easy listening by any measure; Stewart's singing delivery often sounds like Scott Walker committing suicide, leaving onlookers stunned by a memorable – if brief – performance of rare intensity. Back in Dolphin town Warp star Jimmy Edgar tied up the dancing feet of the evening with the clanking synthesis of electronic and funk, before it was back out to for many the most anticipated act of the day.

With so many acts on the bill influenced, directly or indirectly, by Tortoise, it seemed appropriate to finish with the real thing. The intricate genius of the quintet's compositions was laid bare as each member worked out complex roles in idiosyncratic mini-sagas. Prepare Your Coffin laid the way with a double-drum assault, Gamera beguiled and In Sarah... transported revelers to a luscious jazz-rock nirvana. This may be nowhere, but where else would you rather be?