UK music critics are fickle, notoriously hard to please creatures who can curtail a band’s career quicker than you can say, ‘what are the chances of Jet having a record deal this time next year’. So what is it about The Howling Bells that has left a trail of misty-eyed writers, dribbling gooey epithets all over Britain? It could be something to do with the heavyish country/blues styled rock that flirts ever so slightly with the darker side of life. Or it could be down to the fact they all have a serious crush on Juanita Stein. In any event the Howling Bells have successfully wooed the Brits, recently supported The Killers on tour, and are now returning to Australia to see if the folk back home are equally as smitten.

To date, however, Australians’ affair with the Howling Bells has been lukewarm. Whilst their first national tour should be a triumphant home coming of sorts, the fact the Metro Theatre resorted to some very last minute promotion of tonight’s (extremely well priced) gig meant that it is hardly a sell-out. Nonetheless, there are still a respectable number of people here who have turned up to see what all the fuss is about.

It’s well documented that The Howling Bells are a product of London’s wet streets, dark days and dirty gutters. As if to propagate the band’s moody reputation, the stage is cast in darkness with a single, sickly orange light striking a thin beam like a street lamp in a rough part of town. As the band arrive, creamy fairy lights draped over amps alight to provide slightly more illumination, albeit one that casts their faces mostly in shadow.

The space and mood is fitting for the opening numbers that include the lovely, understated tone of The Bell Hit. Juanita Stein wraps her steel strong vocal lovingly around its gentle melody, careful not to suffocate the delicate work of her band members. It has to be said that a lot of the fuss surrounding the Bells, understandably, rests on Juanita Stein’s shoulders. She’s a diminuative vision in a short metallic dress and mounds of teased black hair. Replete with easy self-deprecating charm, the first four rows all appear to swoon in harmony under her gaze.

Naturally the rest of the band sit very much in the background and it’s hard to know exactly how they feel about this dynamic. The spell of the opening numbers appears to come undone during Wishing Stone. Although Joel Stein’s sharply defined guitar work is worth acknowledging it tramples all over Juanita’s vocal like an attention seeking child. Likewise the ethereal Velvet Girl loses its seductive subtleties through some seriously heavy-handed drumming. If this is a display of some inter-band power struggle, it’s quickly quashed by the exotic rhythms of Across the Avenue that allow Juanita to restore order with dreamy, breathy command.

Although the Bells dabble in Blues and Rock, there seems to be a natural affinity with Country influences. Juanita’s voice is right at home when its allowed to stretch out, long and languid, under the branches of I’m Not Afraid, a song penned by Joel and Juanita’s father (and who joins them on stage for a family affair). Their signature sign-off, Low Happening, however is less sun burnt country than the sound of a city’s grit and guts. It’s the Bells most straightforward rock song and closes the evening to a warm reception from an enthused crowd. The Howling Bells don’t return for an encore, and quite frankly the crowd seem happy enough to head home without one. This may not be love at first sight for the Sydney audience, but give it time and it definitely has the potential to grow into something quite lovely.