Live Review: A Moment In Time

Billed as "a musical love letter," A Moment In Time was something like a closing party for the Western Australian Museum as it prepares to undergo four years' worth of major redevelopment. To honour the state's musical heritage, the Perth Symphony Orchestra together with guest singers David Craft, Rachael Dease, Odette Mercy, Timothy Nelson and Mei Saraswati tackled some of WA's most iconic songs. There weren't so much highlights, just different types of high, as in among a tender take on The Panics' Don't Fight It, The Drones' Shark Fin Blues and Abbe May's Karmageddon, which was worked over by Mei Saraswati and some James Bond-style orchestral drama, an impossibly bouncy take of Tame Impala's Elephant warped minds and moved feet.

It wasn't a competition, but possibly the night's most euphoric moment may have come during Odette Mercy's rendition of Eurogliders' Heaven (Must Be There). Mercy's affection for the song shone through as she described discovering it as a child while wandering through Fremantle Markets, underlining how this unique performance brought together different strands of WA's collective musical history, both past and present.

Next was a sight that no one had seen before as Meg Travers unveiled her Trautonium, a legendary German synthesizer from the '20s. Positioned high up in the rafters her mysterious contraption produced phantasmagorical tones that could've come from Dr Who's worst nightmares, as two nearby ghouls in trenchcoats recited apocalyptic German poetry from the 18th century. It certainly made for a dynamic contrast with Soukouss Internationale, whose skippy afro-grooves radiated nothing but positivity. Meanwhile, down in the Discovery Room, Dr Adam Trainer had curated a curious collection of innovative DIY instruments and early electronic oddities, some of which were demoed, while across the floor, via the absinthe bar, revellers at the silent disco seized their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to dance in a museum.

The Kill Devil Hills seem to have become more evil over the years and their country gothic set made for a dynamite closer. There may have been six of them on stage, but their economy made for lean, tension-filled passages in between cataclysmic crescendos, with a sparse layer of violin adding a gut-wrenching layer of melancholic doom. As nights at the museum go it whipped the pants off anything Ben Stiller's ever given us.