The whole R. Kelly/Fashion Meets Music dustup started when electro-pop duo Damn the Witch Siren spoke up about the controversial R&B singer's headlining selection, so it made sense the band would close out the final night of Femmefest, a grassroots event launched by a tightknit group of locals who wanted to sow some good from the lingering unrest.

The whole R. Kelly/Fashion Meets Music dustup started when electro-pop duo Damn the Witch Siren spoke up about the controversial R&B singer’s headlining selection, so it made sense the band would close out the final night of Femmefest, a grassroots event launched by a tightknit group of locals who wanted to sow some good from the lingering unrest.

The inaugural fest, staged at a smattering of city-wide locales (Ace of Cups, Strongwater, Kafe Kerouac and so on) over Labor Day weekend, raised in excess of $8,000 for the Ohio Alliance to End Sexual Violence, according to the charity’s executive director Katie Hanna, who introduced Damn the Witch Siren at Little Rock on Sunday. Fittingly, the duo’s late-night, headlining turn took on a largely celebratory feel — despite the fact a new lighting rig the group hoped to debut decided to malfunction.

Z Wolf, appearing here minus his usual wolf mask, and Bobbi Kitten, her eyes streaked with glittering smears of makeup, opened with “Imagination,” a percolating, digitized jam colored with electronic drums, hypnotic washes of synthesizer, terse, propulsive guitar riffs, and Kitten’s vocals, which built from a breathy whisper to a full-throated roar.

In many ways, the two presented a study in contrast onstage. Wolf generally kept a low profile, hunching his lanky frame over banks of equipment and disappearing into the groove on pep-rally-worthy songs like “Honey Honey.” On those few tunes he provided backing vocals, his voice tended to be distorted into a computerized croak, like a kidnapper disguising him or herself while phoning in the ransom. Kitten, in turn, whipped her brightly colored hair freely, stomped on the venue’s floor as though it were a runway and more or less exhibited the same lack of inhibition as a teenager singing into a hairbrush in the bedroom.

The characters in her songs were similarly brazen, save for the shattered soul on the set-closing “Life Like Movies,” a sweet, eggshell-fragile tune the two dedicated to late Girls! guitarist Joey Blackheart.

Lyrics touched on heady issues like growing older without growing up, self-empowerment and the follies of vanity, but the music itself never felt studious or labored, and the freedoms the two sang of — freedom from pride, oppression and expectation — reverberated in the beat-heavy backdrop, which had a good chunk of the audience dancing along from start to finish.