Goosebumps: not the thing you would normally expect of a mid-January evening in the heart of Melbourne. Nevertheless, the shivers were mine to keep, as my limbs promptly chilled and my umbrella threatened to tornado away from my grip. The forecast for the evening became ever more dim as each minute passed, as dark skies birthed smatterings of rain and chilling winds lightly swept over the Curtain House rooftop – a cause for concern amongst the few punters huddled beneath limited shelter.

With tiny puddles forming at the foot of the stage, and the sound systems covered with garbage bags, the sold-out gig was in jeopardy. In typical Melbourne fashion, however, a brief respite from the conditions arrived, and the show, although tentatively, proceeded as planned.

Darren Sylvester was charged with the task of warming up the crowd, his repertoire of songs often executed without additional musicians. Wielding an electric guitar, fingers on his Korg and melodies pumping from the speakers, Sylvester did his best to entertain an obviously apprehensive audience.

His music is at times strikingly reminiscent of decades past, often straddling the familiar 80s, whilst keen to maintain a indie-pop aesthetic throughout. Although he failed to stir much excitement and claimed the unfortunate and all-too-common mantle of ‘nice enough’. Put simply, it was a welcomed spot of entertainment before the headline act, but little was inspired.

The Swedish-born local Jens Lekman arrived on stage just in time. With conditions faltering in spits and gusts, Curtain House showed they were more than happy to see Lekman, who soon – both pleasantly and predictably – went about charming every individual with stunning ease.

Lekman frequently utilized a single guitar in his pop-styings, accompanied by an energetic bongo player and an array of necessary samples to complete his landscape. All were soon in voice for A Sweet Summer’s Night On Hammer Hill, and It Was A Strange Time In My Life made a smooth transition into the melancholia of Black Cab.

The power and beauty of Lekman’s voice is immediate and works well to compliment his songwriting: one part wit, one part romanticism, each heartwarming sentiment evokes the feeling of a warm, familiar hug. And that’s the crux of it: his appeal lies somewhere beyond pure musicianship, as he appears truly genuine in every expression, his charisma undeniable.

The Opposite Of Hallelujah proved a fan-favorite, as the entire Curtain House kept the beat with enthusiasm. A Postcard To Nina was similarly memorable, detailing Jens’ struggles with a friend’s Catholic father. Sipping On The Sweet Nectar joyously shifted feet across the turf, but the highlight was without a doubt Maple Leaves, and it seemed that whatever happened next, Lekman could do no wrong. The performance after two encores had to end, but a tentative invitation to a ‘park somewhere’ for more of the same ignited the fantasies of the adoring crowd.

By the end of the night, I wasn’t so cold anymore. In fact, I had completely forgotten the daft decision I had made earlier to wear merely a shirt and jeans out. Hell, as far as I was concerned, I was off to the nearest park, unwilling to entertain how legitimate the possibility was of Jens Lekman actually being there.

So there you go: this night was a real treat for the few who scored tickets, and it was even better that their resillience in Melbourne’s so-called summer was rewarded.