The floor was scattered with men in business attire, wives in evening dresses, lovey-dovey couples enjoying an intimate evening and even young folk-rock lovers with their parents. Then there was me – walking around like a fool, wondering what all the fuss was about. I was soon to find out.

Onto the stage walk Krista Polvere and her accomplice Matt, armed with acoustics. A chord is struck. The crowd suddenly turns around as if they were students giving a teacher their full attention. It’s going to be an easy night for the bouncers with this lot.

The first few chords and verses reflect the mood for the rest of the night. Krista’s angelic voice delivers thoughtful, wistful songs laid with elegant, sentimental folk rock guitar. Noteworthy songs include the heartbroken lullaby Loveless, the slightly more up-tempo Let’s Go and the final number Crying Out Loud, where the heavy picking of strings sat nicely against Krista’s soft, sensitive vocals.

Nothing is rushed, and it’s an easy-going night. Krista’s off at 9:15, which leaves half an hour of anticipation among fans (she could easily have played for longer, no one would have minded). The vibe only adds to the expectations. Around me are people comparing notes on Ron Sexsmith, while others show off their guitar expertise or their kid’s recent high school accomplishments.

The youthful looking Sexsmith appears, sporting his signature white frilled shirt and evening jacket. “All hail St Ron of Sexsmith,” they might as well have shouted. He is looked upon like a minister revered by followers.

This time round a bass player and drummer accompany him, which is unusual, a fan tells me. They begin to play, and immediately I think the music style to be quintessentially Canadian: ‘60s folk rock that sits well in tune with bittersweet lyrics and frequent contradictions, sung by an amiable and unassuming fellow, never wanting to offend.

His sombre words are thrown together with uplifting melodies and soothing voice. So what is all the fuss about? After carrying his fans through tunes like the gentle Pretty Little Cemetery, the bluesy Jazz in the Bookstore, the innocent Imaginary Friends and the popular Strawberry Blonde, it finally becomes clear.

It is the heartfelt impact of every note that hits home with the crowd. The songs are short, there’s no big band and there is nothing complicated. No tricks. From the lyrics to the music, Sexsmith has cut out any bullshit. His distinct warm voice compliments the honesty and quality in the lyrics to round off the songs nicely.

It’s nice to have an evening without all the useless trimmings, showcasing quality music and earnest lyrics cut back to the bare bone. Admittedly, the formula became too familiar at times. Some sort of shifts in mood would have been refreshing, as Sexsmith obviously has the talent to experiment with other styles.

Sexsmith proved that good-natured music is still present, and that a true romantic can exist in modern times. When the show is over, patrons leave quietly and respectfully. They have had their blessing, until next time.