I was surprised when I saw local electronic-jazz madam Inga Liljestrom’s name attached to a gig at The Annandale. The iconic pub is much better known for its rowdy, noisy crowds and hard rock, punk or metal gigs. Her soulful voice and spare instrumentation seemed like a better fit for venues like Newtown’s Vanguard (which she’s played several times) or Circular Quay’s musician’s club, The Basement. So, I had some sense of trepidation about the whole thing. However, Inga and Co. took where they were playing and made it their own – a musician’s club for an evening.

I waltzed into the slowly filling room to the fragile, sparse sounds of harpist and singer Heidi Elva, accompanied by simple drums. There was an impressive emotional intensity to Ms. Elva’s performance which held the audience enraptured. Again I felt the strangeness of the setting; even the bar staff were out of their depth, commenting about how they had to, ‘Actually be quiet when serving people!’ Me, I wish I could have settled into a plush lounge, sipping a nice red and letting it all waft over. I didn’t get my wish, but Heidi’s magnetic appeal and stirring tunes kept me rooted to the spot nonetheless.

By contrast, guitar /vocals soloist Brian Campeau’s set had the audience on their collective feet. With a rowdy, rough ‘round the edges vocal technique (somewhat reminiscent of Tim Buckley’s) and a charm immediately evident, he won the room over early. No accompaniment was needed, as he did the duties quite well himself, providing rhythmic guitar, stomps and tapping to keep the beat. The icing on the musical cake? When he managed to get the blokes and sheilas of Ye Olde Annandale to sing in harmony. Now that’s one for the record books.

In spite of the show’s short notice, the venue was well packed by the time Ms. Liljestrom took to the stage. Despite her e-jazz tag, Inga went acoustic for the set. She was accompanied by two cellists and a percussionist (who alternated between using a snare and a strange kind of home-made-looking contraption which he sat on and thumped with his hands, producing differing sounds depending on where he hit it), immediately sliding into a gorgeous rendition of Bullet, Inga’s signature soulful, airy alto wafting through the musical arrangement like incense.

Several unusual instruments made their debut; of particular interest was the telephone mic, a bright red 1950’s model. It produces a distant, distorted vocal, and appeared in several tracks, including the gorgeous, shiver-inducing Knotted. Another highlight was Inga’s use of a tiny toy piano; surprisingly effective on the eerie Drowning Song. Mr. Campeau also returned to the stage, lending his guitar prowess to a new track. The lush, deep cellos on single Phoenix were transcendental. Inga closed (far too early, in my opinion) with a cover of Nina Simone’s Black is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair - stripped back, heart worn-on-sleeve.

I’m sorry, Ms. Liljestrom – I take it back. I’ll go see you anywhere. Even if you hold a gig in a carpark. And, by the looks of things, I wouldn’t be alone.