I ventured through the cold mist of Surry Hills on a gloomy Thursday night to see Perth’s Schvendes play an intimate gig at the Hopetoun. Having released several EPs and live albums over the past couple of years, the Perth five-piece has risen from gothic performance artists to a band known for their layers of rich instrumentation and haunting melodies. Their sound has seen them support the likes of The Drones and Augie March along the way too.

On board with Schvendes were the Hairy Young Strangers from Sydney, complete with lagerphone. In my opinion, they were the mismatch of the night. They started the night off in colonial fashion, playing their convict-rock songs about bushrangers and a rendition of the sea shanty Bound For South Australia. Instead of feeling like I was at one of Sydney’s most beloved music venues, I felt as though I should have a ticket in my hand for the meat tray giveaway at some pub in the never-never or attending some bush dance in the local community hall.

Up next were Clinkerfield, complete with Jim Morrison wannabe lead man, whose stage antics included clambering over fall-back speakers and tangling himself in guitar leads. Starting off a little disorganised, they progressed to playing a tight set of blues-driven and soulful rock, with no lack of soloing from lead Jimmy Stewart’s Maton. These blues-tinged boys from Melbourne certainly knew how to entertain, although a little clichéd in their attempt to emulate a Doors sound. The songs were well arranged, with the lead singer’s brooding and at times screeching vocals, the adhesive which made for a solid set.

Having arrived from Perth on the day of the gig, a swollen collection of instrument cases lay strewn in a dark corner off stage, alongside suitcases busting at the zips: the true essence of life on the road. Having launched their debut full-length release Sweet Talk Your Enemies in Perth a couple of months back, Schvendes get their first taste of the reality of tour life – a poor showing at the Hopetoun. After a considerable amount of tuning and amp cracks and pops, Schvendes got under way.

To say it was an intimate gig, is to say the least, with only a handful of punters scattered down the length of the bar and around the room. This may be disheartening to some bands, but Schvendes saw it as a challenge. They started the set with great gusto, diving head first into a sea of howling vocals, amidst haunting cello and atmospheric Rhodes keyboard.

Lead singer Rachel Dease engaged with the crowd, jokingly announcing the tracks from the new album, groaning: “Spot the songwriter going through emotional heartbreak.” With tracks from their latest album, Schvendes’ ability to write songs of both great heartache and painstaking adversity was on show.

Their new track Mockingbird takes the haunting lullaby Hush Little Baby and turns it on its head, with morbid lyrics, “Run rabbit run, run, run the fox is on its way.” Dease infuses the song with torment and darkness. Her languid vocals in this live setting were almost mesmerising and for a while she had the audience in the palm of her hand, her mouth fixed on the mic as she swayed her body from side to side.

There was a certain menacing undertone as they played Bring Out Your Dead, a cello-drenched requiem, nostalgic and infused with a wistfulness in memory of those who have passed. There were no Monty Python antics here, but a soulful, beautiful song that was amongst their strongest of the night.

Finishing their set, the band seemed deflated and cries from the audience for an encore went unnoticed. For a band so talented it was a shame that the crowd hadn’t shown up. Perhaps the onset of the Sydney cold snap was already too much for some people’s souls to bear, without the need for the melancholy of Schvendes?